Of a sudden, several angels are tossed aside, and four men in brown suits enter what remains of the room. Demons. Earth elementals. We might have been prepared for them, had Gilgamesh not wasted our time.

"Lord Chaos has sent us to stop you, Brother Previa, from making a terrible decision. He has no further use for The Liar, you see, and would much rather The Scholar aide him in selecting a final champion."

"How did you get here?"

"We followed you, of course. The same way Gilgamesh got here. You left for the Sacred Nebula, and we followed you from there to here. Now please, say you won't come. We so wish to rip the wings from these Seraphim. It has been ever so long since we had a good war for our own."

"You must be Lich."

"I am, indeed, Lich," he says, his body becoming a skeleton, his suit a purple robe, tendrils of sickly yellow energy swarming about him. "Allow me to introduce my brothers to you: This is Scarmiglione,"

The demon to his right's face falls off even as his suit explodes in a mass of rotting muscles. His hair grows out and his eyes go white. The demon next to him sprouts a tail, and his skeleton, blood red, explodes from his flesh, reptilian in form.

"Flamerous Rex, of the Vile Four,"

The fourth demon, I notice, is in fact an emaciated woman. Her head lolls backward, and she eventually leans back the whole way, so that she stands upon her hands, As she does so, her suit falls off, leaving her naked, green, every bit as bony, and her tongue comes slithering out of her mouth.

"Echidna."

"Hey, Enkidu!" Gilgamesh says, turning to his companion, "what does the scouter say about his powar lebel?"

Enkidu clenches his fist and shouts, "It's over nine THOUSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND!!!"

Gilgamesh, Enkidu, Ultros, Gogo, Cactuar, and Tonberry rush the fiends, joined by The Seraphim and Cherubim. In the meantime, my companions and I stand by in sheer confusion. The Wanderer groans and says, "This happens every damn time. We haven't got time for this. Chaos knows that. It's all a ploy to slow us down."

"Yes, but The Messenger has prepared," I reply, "He has taken Bartz' name to Cosmos, and will bring us the next dockets. One war is not going to stop another."

I am The Messenger.

It is my duty to go between The Lady and The Scholar, and of the foreign angels in her castle, I am the only one permitted into her divine presence. I alone may stand before the exalted and not suffer a transfiguration. And yet I fear that I have.

Ere I served The Scholar, I was a man named Cid del Norte Marquez, unwed, alone, solitary as the island I lived upon all my days. Yet I have what some might call a grand daughter. Though she has two other grandfathers, I am also now a part of that family. That woman and her husband filled my final days with happiness.

But now, in the time beyond days, I have suffered some strange change. I can see ahead of where I am. Time is not linear, and yet it is. I am gifted or cursed with the power to see what might come- a sight normally given only to Prophets and Gods.

I call myself The Messenger for such was my role. When my granddaughter awoke, I delivered the message to her: that Kefka had slain our world, and it now was beginning to rot away. I can never forget, now seeing back with my power to see what might be, how things could have gone wrong. The damage I did to her was unforgivable, unpardonable, and I will not allow it to be washed out from my memory.

I am walking along the battlements now, away from The Lady, as seraphs and cherubs dash about. The Castle is under siege. Chaos has sent forth demons and fiends to delay our work. In a sense, The War we have been planning has finally begun. We are used to Gods trying to interfere with our work, but this is something so new.

I carry in my hands the dockets, of which there are three, and the sealed letter from Alexander. I know already who Chaos has chosen from Alexander's realms. Kefka. Who else could warrant a letter from my God? I dare not look, though, dare not see who has been sent to us.

Ah, and now I am surrounded. Four demons in red. Three men in red suits, and woman in a red dress suit.

"Well, hello, Brother Marquez," says the woman, "Why don't you just hand us those dockets and we'll be on our way, hmm?"

"I may have been fooled before," I answer, "but I am no fool. You aren't Kefka, madam, you aren't going to pull the wool over my eyes."

"Oh, what a pity," she says, unbuttoning her shirt, "but come, don't you prefer me to Kefka anyway?" She rips her shirt open to expose her breasts, but tears her skin at the same time. Her arms continue to rip, and then, as though someone is standing behind her, more arms emerge to aid in the rending of her clothing and skin. At last she leans forward and slithers out of her legs. "I am Kali Maliris of the Four Fiends of Fire, servant to Lord Chaos, and these are my brothers,"

One of the other demons lights a match and burns off his clothing, revealing a pale man in red, "Rubicante," The next grows two more heads as he falls down on all fours. His body burts, revealing a dog beneath, "Cerberus," and the last bloats until he pops, "and Dualhead Hydra."

"Fascinating," I reply, "If I am not mistaken, does not Cerberus hold Eidolon Status?"

"Yes," huffs one of his heads, "I am curious, how do you manage to aid Chaos and be an Eidolon?"

"Interesting development." huffs another head. "You should have chosen Rydia," says the third, "Summoned Monsters have been permitted access to this War."

"Well," I say, "I believe this is the part where I turn and run."

We've fled our chambers, leaving behind what little paper we can. Undoubtedly some small information about our decision will reach Chaos. Gilgamesh and his company continue to fight the earth fiends behind us. A pity, almost. Gilgamesh is entertaining, however foolish he might be.

We four are running down these halls now, seeking The Messenger. After that we will likely search for a room, barricade ourselves inside, and keep working. As you can tell, we are not unused to this. A God once set the tower we labored in on fire in an attempt to stop us. But we did not become the best by being deterred.

"This way fellows!" The Chronicler calls, making a sharp left. He pulls open a door and we run in, The Engineer tripping as he does so. Once safely inside we take a moment to catch our breaths. The Wanderer takes stock of our surroundings.

"Stairs," he says. Indeed there are. A long, terrible spiral, ascending into the shadows. It's unusual, really. Gods tend to keep their palaces well lit. It's possible, though, that Cosmos' palace is becoming a castle in defense, and the shadows are meant to trip up unwanted foes. Demons can see in the dark . . . but men on their way to becoming demons cannot. I shudder to think what Chaos has sent after us. "There is something in the air," The Wanderer says, "A feeling of dread, of importance."

"Nonsense," I say, "Chaos and Cosmos are fated to fight for Eternity. The Highest Himself has lain that fate upon them. This war is irrelevant. The victor is of no import. History's preservation is of no matter. If Cosmos loses, she can appeal, she can fight back. None of this matters."

"But ye cannae shake it . . ." The Engineer answers, "There be somethin' diffren this time. Somethin . . . wrong . . ."

"Don't be so superstitious. This war will not end without the authority of one greater than these two. There is no importance! These Gods are no different from any others we have ever ministered for."

"Oh, surely you don't believe that. Look around you, Scholar. We ourselves are tied up in this. Our homes are at stake. Yours, The Engineers, I have no doubt mine will be. It isn't even impossible that The Wanderer's is, despite Faram's powers."

"I am telling you! None of this is special! It's meaningless! There's NO POINT!"

"Oh . . . now that'sss jussst not fair," hisses a voice from behind me. Or is it all around? "This battle hasss great meaning for all of ussss. Don't asssssume that, becaussse you aren't fighting, otherssss don't care, Brother Previa."

A woman in a green dress suit emerges from the shadows. Ah, just what we were waiting for. More fiends. Someone out there is apparently not doing their job. Well, hmm. Can angels have Guardian Angels? I'll have to investigate that later . . .

Others emerge, another woman, and two men, one with a head band, the other with an eye patch.

"No need to introduce yourselves," I say, "We can take a guess."

"Oh, but introductionssss are part of the fun of being a Fiend . . ."

"Fiends of Wind," The Wanderer says, "Easily the least impressive of your rank."

"What did you say!" roars the other woman, her dress suit rending slight as she moves. It is apparently too small for her, but only just enough to accentuate the curves of her body. No, the tearing is something else.

"I'm afraid I must agree," says The Chronicler, "I've never read of a Wind Fiend who was as fearsome as their counterparts in other fields."

"Don't anger her," The Engineer says, "That's Barbariccia."

"So glad you remember," Barbariccia says, her shirt's buttons popping off, the skirt falling away, her hair whipping a tornado up to censure.

"Which makes you Tiamat," I say, pointing to the one with the lisp. "I've always wondered: how do you put on a hat?"

"And that makes the other two Pazuzu and Ahriman then? Pathetic. Chaos couldn't find anyone better?"

"Honestly," I add, rather enjoying the looks on these Fiends' faces, "What are you going to do, break wind over our heads?"

"Run if you can," Kali Maliris says, coiling to strike, "But know this, Brother Marquez: There are four of us, and one of you. Not every deer escapes the forest fire."

"True," I say, turning to run, "but I see no trees. A flame unfed will starve to death. My God feeds my soul. What does Chaos do for you?" and, with those words, I turn on my heels and sprint. These dockets must reach The Scholar. We must decide upon a champion to battle Kefka. And I will not, so long as I have wings and legs, be stopped from raising a blade against that madman.

Damn! Cerberus has caught up to me! Which way to go? Which way? Left? No, right! I have to make it, my legs are burning already, but I have to make it. God, oh my God, I am so out of shape! HURK! A stone . . . ow . . . Can't stay down, have to keep moving and BY THE MIGHTY CROWN OF ALEXANDER!! Kali's blade . . . she's right on top of me . . . can't look up . . . just roll, flip and YES! Right in the stomach!

I'm back on my feet now, but the Fire Fiends are all around, and the wall will soon be breached. The demons have Cosmos' palace besieged. Without aide, can we still win? Where is Cosmos? Why does she not defend her castle? Who in God's name is that?

A man in red armor. Silver hair, red ornaments within it. And that sword . . . it cannot be! Oh God, the guilt . . .

"Step away from the Cid," says the Warrior of Light, his shining sword brandished, "Return to your master, or face pain eternal."

"You?" Hisses Kali, "HA!"

"I am sorry," The Warrior says, "If you believe you know me. Let me assure you, madam, that I do not know you."

"Oh, of course," Rubicante says, "He can't remember."

"Run, Cid," says the Warrior, unperturbed by these vile four.

"You are-"

"My name is of no importance. I am a Seraph in the service of Lady Cosmos. In life I was her devoted Knight, in death, there is no difference. I will fight for my Goddess, now go! Ask no questions, This is a time for swords, not speeches. Now run!"

"How did you know I was a Cid?"

"Cosmos told us she had invited Cids to the Palace, I have never met you here before. Now please, Cid, run!"

And run I shall. I make my way away, not daring to see how the Warrior fares against the Fiends. As I dash into a tower, I cannot evade the fact that I have hurt the man who saved me. We have condemned him to fight another war with Chaos, and we will expose the truth to him. He does not remember this war against Chaos, that he himself ended it long ago . . . but when this all begins anew . . . Oh God, what have I done?

What right have I to do this? Am I not but a man? I have wings, a crown, a harp, I am a decorated angel, not the highest of choirs, to be sure, but still, I am a man. I am no God, to wield the souls of others. Oh God, I am trying to do the right thing, to preserve peace and safety, but how can I know what I am doing is right? This would not be the first time I had labored for what I believed was the greater good and instead created the greater evil.

Running. Running. Always running. All I'm good for, it seems, is running away. I'm no warrior. Cid Previa was an old man with a failing kidney by the time he even mattered to the world. Why should The Scholar prove any more powerful? Ah, well, at least running is healthy.

The Wind Fiends are chasing us up the stairs. If I remember correctly, this stair case leads to a large . . .

"The pool," I gasp.

"Damnation!" The Wanderer roars.

"Impossible! We'll be fine," The Chronicler says.

"Shut yer mouths and jes' keep runnin'!" The Engineer barks as Barbariccia's laughter grows. The world below and behind us is an infernal roar. A maelstrom of horror as the stairs, the bricks, the Palace itself is torn apart by these four. Incensed, the Wind Fiends are expending all their might to stop us.

We reach the pool chamber above. This is somewhere we are not normally allowed. It is the pool where Cosmos' attendants bathe. Recreational pools exist elsewhere for the normal Seraphs, Cherubim, unranked angels, and spirits not yet promoted to the choirs of angels. And, as we have guessed, a company waits for us in the pool.

Three demons in blue, and one female demon aside from them. Not a one says anything. The first merely bursts into tentacles, the second a turtle, the third rips his face off, revealing a skull of ice. The fourth screams and . . . Oh Gods, how does one describe the horror this child of heaven has become?

"Werr, herro, sho good of you to join ush, Shkarrer. I burreev you know what we are."

"Water Fiends?"

"Yesh. I am KRAKEN! The madnesh of the shea! Thish," he says, directing a tentacle toward the turtle, "Ish CAGNAZZO! Mightiesht of are number. Beshide him shtandsh ISHE GORREM! and farthesht from me ish SHYRRA! BUHORD HER TERROR!"

"If I may interject," The Chronicler says, "we've got company from downstairs as well."

The Wind Fiends arrive on the scene, and Tiamat wails in anger at the sight of Kraken. "Leave them to ussss!" she hisses, "We found them, we did, you shall not have them!!"

"BUREEV IT!" Kraken says, striking his stomach and puffing his cheek. Wait, do Octopi have stomachs or cheeks? "We found them, and we shall be taking the Shidsh."

"You certainly shall be taking the "shidsh,"" says Barbarricia, "but it'll be hard to do, I suppose. Can a piece of shid take a shid?"

"Watch your tongue, woman," Scylla cries, her horrible mouths shrieking the words in a round.

"If you don't mind my saying," The Wanderer says to me, "I almost miss Gilgamesh."

"Don't say that. He'll show up if you do."

"Did somebody ask for a miracle!?"

"Oh great, he's here."

"Behold! The glorious super soldier-"

"Gilgamesh! You just introduced yourself. WE DON'T CARE."

"GILGAMESH? Ha! Gilgamesh is a novice! I am the mighty swordsman, SIGFRIED!"

The sound of The Wanderer slapping his forehead is audible. Even the eight Fiends are stunned. Sigfried? Who the hell is Sigfried? He looks like a cheap Gilgamesh knock off to me, which is saying something, since Gilgamesh himself is some kind of cheap knock off of others. Seriously, who are these garish goofs?

"Shigfred," Kraken burbles, "Get back to the ship. The Shidsh are oursh."

"SSSSSILENCCCE!! THE SSSIDSSS ARE MINE!"

"Fools! I, the great Sigfried will capture them in the name of Chaos! Then the mightiest of swords shall be mine!"

As the villains argue, my companions and I manage to slip away. We climb the stairs as quickly as we can, for the villains have become aware of our absence. As we dash up the stairs we run into The Messenger, and the lot of us tumble out a doorway and out a window, landing unceremoniously on a ledge on the outer wall of the castle. Here we can see them: Chaos' legion. Only the Fiends seem to have made it in so far, which is excellent news for us. Between them, Gilgamesh, and Sigfried, I'd say we've filled our quota for cameos.

When at last I have managed to stop the spinning, I say "Well, there you are! Have you got the dockets?"

"I have." The Messenger says. "I was right, you know. Things did get worse."

"Predictably so. We'll survive."

"We always do, don't we fellows?" The Chronicler says, dusting off his shirt. "We really ought to write a book about the scrapes we've gotten out of. For a bunch of non-adventurers, we certainly do seem to have our fair share of adventure."

"So it would seem," The Wanderer says, "Let's get down to business. If Chaos invents a new element of Fiend to send after us, I'd like to have this off my mind. Although, I have to admit, there are a few who are easy on the eyes. That one . . . Valvalis, was it?"

"Barbarricia," The Engineer corrects, "horrible wind woman. She'll be a pain sooner than a blessin' to ye."

"Right, then," I interrupt. "Back to work then?"

Letter from Lord Alexander, God Inheritor of the realms formerly belonging to Goddess, Doom, and Poltergeist, lawfully wrested from the hands of God Kefka, Spec. Magic, to Goddes Cosmos, Spec. Order, and to Council of Cids #33.

Cosmos;

I am protective of these worlds, as you are no doubt aware. I have a difficult job, as both an Eidolon and a God, I am a busy man. My worlds are oft harder to maintain than those of many others' you have visited. This is because there is no Magic in my worlds at all. What Kefka never realized is that, in becoming God of Magic, he became God of Magic of all the worlds previously maintained by the Dancing Triad (hereafter known as the Warring Triad).

But I am not writing you to tell you my sob story. I am writing because I have heard your war has found Kefka. How . . . irresponsible can you be? Of all the worlds you have warred on, how can you have stirred up Kefka? You . . . know who he is, don't you? This isn't Sephiroth or Yevon or Xande or Kuja we're talking about, Cosmos. This is Kefka. He is among the few mere men to rise to Godhood and circumvent the choirs of angels entirely.

This is Kefka, Cosmos. The only mortal in history to become the God of a world that still had a God. Kefka is . . . disturbing . . . His voice is horror and terror, his face, oh his face . . . Kefka is beyond description Cosmos. He is an evil worse than Chaos. And you . . . you have woken up what was left of him . . .

I do not forgive your sin, Cosmos. I never will. I leave, even now, to speak with the Choir of the Elohim, that you may be cast down, that your light may be darkened, that your crown be rent. But I shall give you my warriors. I will not watch Kefka loosed upon Heaven because of your idiocy and carelessness. I make now this Judgment: If ever a God has sinned, Cosmos, you are that God. Your sins endanger us all.

Were I The One Above All, He Who Is God of the Gods of Gods, I would see that you suffer nothing less than eternal damnation. The punishment cast upon you by The Highest is too lenient. Your crimes before, however terrible, are exceeded by this.

May your Exaltation turn to ash, your angels to demons, your light to darkness, your songs to shrieks, your love to hate. As you have condemned us all, Cosmos, so, now, do we condemn you.

"Kefka." I say to the others. "I take back what I have said. They've found Kefka."

. . . Kefka . . .

No matter who you are, no matter where you are from, chances are, if you are dead, you have heard of Kefka. And . . . your morality, ethics, beliefs, whatever, aside, chances are you either love the guy or you hate him. And even your personal feelings toward him, you cannot deny that finding and waking Kefka is a crime beyond description.

Before Kefka, no one thought it was possible to skip being an Angel and go straight to being a God, no one thought you could be a God in a realm where there were Gods already, and . . . before Kefka, no one believed you could kill a God. To this day investigations surrounding Kefka's rise and fall are conducted. No one knows how he was slain, and no one knows how he usurped the Dancing Triad. It had been so long since they had contacted the Sacred Nebula, and then . . . one day . . . one day Heaven received word from them, only, it was not them, it was some new God. Kefka had declared Godhood, and all of Heaven shook.

Alexander is known for his harsh judgments. He has been especially hard on the world from whence Kefka was born, doing his best to sift the souls of men there, to separate the good and evil, and it has been hard on him. But I do not disagree with his judgment of Cosmos. Waking Kefka is dangerous. He changed the rules of Heaven itself . . . and that is . . . something even The Highest is bothered by. To do something which the All-Knowing cannot fully understand . . .

So the choice comes to us to stop Kefka before he can grow too powerful again. This is why Chaos attacked- if we stall, Kefka may grow in might. So of these three we must decide, and we must decide quickly. So, let us see the three we have been sent:

Locke Cole, Celes Chere, and . . . . Terra Branford . . .

"They've sent us the Godslayer . . ."

Name: Locke Cole
Age: 26
Sex: Male
Species: Hume

Locke Cole was once a mere young man with an interest in things which were rare. Raised in the city-state of Kohlingen, north of the nation of Jidoor, Locke spent his youth exploring Kohlingen's wilderness for rare treasures from the War of the Magi. Some said he did this because he sought his parents, others claimed it was because he was vain, and felt he was better than others. Regardless, though, it was a fact that that which was rare was beautiful in his eyes.

One day this young man saw a woman named Rachel. There was something about her he immediately associated with rarity, and, because of this, she had to be his. The courtship was a kind, sentimental thing, of no grand significance in the scope of things. At the age of 18, Locke Cole and this Rachel became an item. Southward, young Celes Chere was being taught to use her blade and skills in magic, and young Terra Branford, at the age of 10, was leading Emperor Gestahl's troops to victory over the pathetic resistance of the city-state of Tzen.

As Celes earned her first kill, Locke shared his first kiss, and Terra, at the request of Kefka, torched a woman and child alive. Two years later, Celes' feats in the invasion of Miranda, words which reached as far as Doma, earned her the rank of Gestahlian General. Terra lead the occupation of Albrook, and Locke lead his lover in search of their latest treasure.

But things went poorly for Locke. The cave he and Rachel explored was dangerous, a bridge collapsed beneath him, and Rachel pushed him to safety, falling into harm. Her memory was taken, and Locke was blamed. He was forced from Kohlingen, and not long after, Gestahl's empire conquered Kohlingen. Rachel died in that attack, only then recalling her memories.

From that point on, Locke became obsessed with all things rare. He had heard Gestahl held a treasure which could turn back death, and Locke hungered for this. Gestahl had killed his love, and now, after he killed Gestahl, he'd use his treasure to save her life.

Life was harsh, cruel, and unforgiving. Locke found himself needing the aide of the Returners, and he offered himself to them. From there he became entangled in the life of the Godslayer. This woman, an agent of that Empire he so loathed, and her life was in his hands. Had Locke known that this woman's very existence had enabled the death of his love, he might have taken her life, and yet . . . whether it was his ignorance or his kindness . . . Locke saved her.

Such a man was Cole. Seeing a woman in peril, he could not stand by. Always he seemed to see her face, and so he endeavored always to save her. It would not be until Locke met Celes that his heart could move on . . . a bitter irony, that women of the Empire should soothe the pains the Empire caused.

Team Work: 7/10. Locke, while hardly a leader in any sense (Considering he was more supportive than inspiring) was a fairly good team player. Though he resented groups when first he joined the Returners, by the time he met Terra, Locke had learned well enough the importance of having friends and allies. He would have no problem serving alongside Bartz, Cecil, or the others.

Lethality: 6/10. Locke was a member of the team which struck down Kefka while Kefka stood as a God. The reason behind this, though, is beyond our understanding. Not only did Locke take part in the destroying of Kefka, but he was also a member of the team which destroyed the Warring Triad. Yet I cannot know how or why, and am not prepared to bank on that. There is a reason we only refer to Terra as the Godslayer, and none of her companions. Locke was man, physical, mortal, utterly human.

Faith: 9/10. Interestingly, Locke ranks high on the list of serving the Lady Cosmos no matter the information she is fed. Cosmos is a beautiful woman in need of help, of the protection of Champions. Locke has a tendency to help women who appear distressed. His Hero Complex would aide well.

Opposition: 2/10. Oddly, Locke has no real history with Kefka. Though I don't doubt that he hated him strongly, he had no real reason to stand against Kefka which outshone his companions. And while Hate was enough to get Bartz in, the docket makes no such significance of Locke's hate for Kefka. He opposed the man, yes, and he fought him, yes, but his reasons were as insignificant as Relm or Mog's. Kefka was the man who destroyed the world. There were mere townsfolk who hated him that much.

I am trying to be fair, because I am not sure I feel it right to restore the Godslayer's powers. We must be careful in not making a knee-jerk decision here. Terra at full power could stop Kefka at full power . . . but the sword points both ways. Just as Kefka, with his power to break unbreakable rules is a major threat, so, too, is Terra.

\Name: Celes Chere
Age:18
Sex: Female
Species: Hume

I will say this now, and I will say this as completely and inarguably as I can. If we do not choose The Godslayer, we will choose Celes Chere. There is no debating this. There is no reason anyone could ever even HOPE to debate this. Celes is . . . the most powerful hume warrior to have ever lived in her world. Oh, sure, sure, there will be arguments that Leo Cristophe was greater, but do not be deceived. Remember that Kefka stabbed Leo, but Celes stabbed Kefka.

After discovering Terra, Gestahl's Empire was scrambling to replicate this child's might. A few tests had already been performed with Espers found prior to the assault on the Sealed Gate, and to that point, things had seemed successful. Kefka had become a powerful wizard in addition to the brightest tactician Vector had ever known. Soon, so very soon, Gestahl would establish order across the world, would unify all the tiny hamlets, city-states, and puny nations into one world. He would heal the planet.

Of the Magitek Knights, Celes was the first infant infused. She was raised, from that point onward, in the shadow of Terra, who, despite being her age, was already seeing military action. Inspired, rather than discouraged, Celes strove to be as good as the inhuman Magitek Queen, she pushed her body to the limit, to prove that any human could be as good as Terra. Encouraged by Leo, who had refused infusion, Celes labored on.

She was seen by some as one of the most extreme and zealous followers of Gestahl. One of his greatest warriors, to be sure, and she was favored in court as Kefka's protege. She was also loved by The Messenger, who cared for her as though she were his own. He used his status in the Empire to make certain she was always treated well.

In spite of this, she was not pampered, and the hardened woman who emerged from Celes' childhood was icy to the touch. She was hated by the rest of the military, for she drove her men harder than Leo. Of Gestahl's generals, only Kefka was hated more.

When Kefka ended the world, it was Celes who got on her feet and walked out her front door. Celes who could not rest knowing Kefka hovered above them. When the Godslayer had lost her will to fight, it was Celes who held the flame of hope for her until such time as she could return it.

Should we decide against Terra, we will take Celes. A dangerous choice lies before us now. Do we choose the woman who can end Kefka, but also end us? Or do we choose the woman who might end Kefka, but might as soon fail?

Terra was Kefka's opposite, she was everything he wanted to be, but Celes was everything Kefka was, and the temptation may prove stronger the second time.

Team Work: 10/10. Kefka destroyed Celes' world, left her with no reason to believe anyone she knew or loved had lived, and stranded her on a tiny island hundreds of miles from what remained of civilization. Despair consumed her. But this woman, recalling those she loved, set out once again to prove that a human could do what Terra did. She got to her feet, crossed the ocean, and set about restoring hope. Celes managed to convince her friends to abandon their despair and have hope again. Even Terra, the team's hope, had to be convinced. To that end, if the team suffered a great injury, Celes could be counted upon to help them.

Lethality: 8/10. A Magitek Knight, Celes was the foremost of soldiers in the company which slew Kefka. She was one among them who was more powerful, and she ultimately proved herself greater than members of the Warring Triad. The Gods who had given her might had become less than she. Celes is a force to fear, even if she is not the Godslayer.

Faith: 4/10. Celes is a strong-willed woman. She served the Empire only until she herself realized what Kefka was up to. In a similar vein, it is likely she would discover on her own what was happening, and at that point . . . I am unsure how she would view things. The Messenger thinks highly of her, but . . . can we trust her to aide Cosmos after seeing the truth in these things? Can we even believe she will buy the story about the Crystals?

Opposition: 8/10. Celes once served alongside Kefka in the Empire of Gestahl. Because they both were infused with Magitek by The Messenger, Celes may view herself as being like Kefka. She may fear that at any moment she may become him. In fact, Gestahl had banked on that on the floating continent, that Celes' similarities with Kefka would entice, rather than repulse her. Yet, given how much Celes strove to prove herself Terra's equal, it is also likely that she struggles often to prove herself Kefka's opposite. This is the side of her we would have to bank upon.

And this, of course, leaves the Godslayer.

Name: Terra Madeline Branford
Age: 18
Sex: Female
Species: Esper

Terra Branford is called The Godslayer. A title she resents strongly, but accepts nonetheless. Her whereabouts in Heaven are unknown. Rumors say that The Choir of Elohim sealed her away, while others claim she now works as an Eidolon. Others still claim Lord Alexander is actually Terra. None no for certain where she is.

Terra is a case unusual in the history of Eternity. As I said before, to become an Eidolon, an angel or demon has to apply, and that application must be reviewed. This is not the case with Terra. From birth her name was listed in the Hall of Summons, though no God has ever accepted responsibility for it. She is . . . an interesting woman.

Her entire childhood Terra was the most powerful weapon the Empire held. To keep her a secret, though, she was always disguised with the regular uniform of any Magitek Knight, and the vast majority of the world did not know who this woman was. This changed the day Kefka decided to perform a few "tests" on her. Rumors spread from the Southern Continent across the world. Gestahl had some kind of witch. A woman who could use magic in ways which no one else could. The Magitek Queen, some called her, The Magitek Witch, said most.

During a mission to Narche, Terra broke free of Kefka's manipulations, and, though her mind was still clouded, was able for the first time in her life to make her own was the beginning of something, the world seemed to know. The mightiest men in the world all turned to their counsels, and the world began to vie for Terra in secret.

But Gestahl paid the price for manipulation. Terra chose the Returners, chose the people who allowed her to choose, who showed her kindness instead of use. The end result was Terra opening the Sealed Gate and leveling Gestahl's Empire.

This was part of Kefka's ploy, of course, but in the end, no amount of scheming, no Light of Judgment, no force could save Kefka. No one is entirely sure how she did it, but the statements given by every member of Terra's party agree: She laid down her life, wagered her humanity, and remained in Trance longer than she ought to have.

Terra destroyed a member of the Warring Triad, marched past them, confronted Kefka, weathered his attacks, and still turned her blade on him. That she survived Kefka's might, even before Trancing . . .

Needless to say, if we restore the Godslayer for this war, we risk her escaping into Heaven, and if she does turn against the Gods . . . who can say? Terra is the only person to have ever challenged her God in battle and not be thrust down into hell. Even her friends, who were at this battle cannot claim such, for among them, none save she survived a direct hit from the Light of Judgment.

Team Work: 6/10- Terra works on teams . . . she loved her companions by the end. She was willing to lay down her life for the entire world. But . . . at the same time, how do you put it? I mean, she has military training, and is more than qualified to work in a team, but Terra in battle always took the fore. She was so aggressive in battles that her team would have to step out of the way at times, for her attacks were often much more destructive than one might imagine. It's hard to know if The Godslayer would bother waiting up for mere men like Squall and Bartz, or if she would not simply challenge Chaos' men on their own. She is not prideful, but in battle there are few men who can keep up.

Lethality: 10/10. Terra, Godslaying aside, is a power to reckon with. As an Esper, her body's capabilities in magic and flesh increase drastically. Even when she does not maintain this form, the woman is capable of conquering nations almost entirely on her own. Had Kefka taken control of her, Terra would have been his Light of Judgment. Every being has their limits, of course. Terra can handle one God at a time, several demigods, a handful of powerful foes, or legions of underlings. There is no doubt that, if we sent Terra, Kefka would fall.

Faith: 0/10. Terra loathes manipulation. It is one of the reasons she fought against Kefka. It is impossible that we can deceive her, as well. The woman is instinctively suspicious. She did not simply agree to aid Bannon off the bat. She spent a long time before deciding he was right. She might not discover our plans, I suppose, wrapped as she might be in defending the others, but if she were to find out . . . we would have a disaster. This woman has no love for Gods, nor love of being fooled. There are some who might fear for Cosmos' safety if Terra found out Cosmos was using her. Ha, what a hypocritical statement to make. "We can't fool Terra, but if we do, we might be okay!"

Opposition: 10/10. No one stands more opposed to Kefka than Terra. No one. She was everything he yearned to be, everything he was not. Terra was free of love, filled with lethal power, and held the future of the world in her hands. Kefka killed to reach that state, and in the end, as his crown rusted and fell, as his wings blackened and burned, as his voice cracked, his skin sloughed, and his light darkened, Kefka saw the shining form of Terra tower above him. Like a God, some say, was the Godslayer, and in that moment Heaven saw Kefka for what he was: a cheap imitation, an artificial attempt at becoming the miracle of the miraculous.

She is, without a doubt, the best and worst choice. Terra is a star of death, and we must wonder how to aim her brilliant rays. To wield the Godslayer against the God Usurper . . . do we have the right?

"Well," I say, looking up from the dockets. "Which will it be? The Lady, or the Tiger?"

The Chronicler and The Engineer exchange anxious looks. The Wanderer merely offers, "Chere is more attractive than Branford." Which brings us, of course, to the man who knew them best of us.

The Messenger breathes a heavy sigh and says, "Personally? I think we should use Terra. But I am absolutely biased in this. Celes and Locke are like my children, and I will protect them how I must. Professionally, I say it's safest to choose Locke. Celes could be turned to the darkness, and Terra could prove more terrible than Darkness itself."

"Terra it is, then." The others stare wildly at me. "Look around you, I answer their stares. See the plains beyond this Palace. See how they swarm with demons. Recall they who seek us within the Palace. Remember that this is Kefka we're talking about." I spare a rare, genuine smile for my team, "When have we ever been about safety? Terra is the most dangerous choice we can make, the greatest risk, and the greatest gamble. She will bring the greatest rewards."

"But if Terra goes wrong, The Gods will rend us limb from limb."

"If Terra goes wrong, there will be no Gods to rend us."

Another uneasy glance passes through them. They are mulling it over. It's good to see them questioning my sanity again. It adds a moment of normalcy to what has suddenly become our worst nightmare. We have just decided that, to combat the most unusual evil any fiend has ever dug up, we must unleash the most dangerous force The Gods have ever seen. If there is one thing The Fearless fear more than The Void, it is that which cannot be understood by the All-Knowing.