Chapter 3: The Child of Angels
The rain relentlessly poured straight down onto a weary Gabe. The priest had traveled non-stop for an entire day from lands afar back to his place of residence. He trudged up the stairs of Fanatics Tower as fast as he could, avoiding the downpour as much as possible by running close to wall. The stairs had become rusted over time and creaked with his every step. He had stopped noticing the sound long ago, but it was a great way to alert everyone in the tower that somebody was climbing the steps. Another priest in white robes passed him going down the stairs, blood staining the cloth that lay over his chest. This wasn't a good sign . . . damn, he needed to hurry now. Gabe neared the top of the building and a solitary bulb at the top outlined a small abode sitting atop the monument to Kefka. Its weak light cast subtle shadows down the stairs and flickered with the wind and poor weather. Someone screamed from inside and Gabe took the last remaining stairs at one time and darted through the door.
It was mass hysteria inside the small bedroom. A place that had once been occupied by the mighty Kefka as his temporary throne was now flooded with the people from all levels of the tower. Priests and priestesses scurried like little ants through the doors, grabbing cloth and hot water for the person they were trying to help. Another scream rang out and Gabe dashed around a corner and into the main bedroom.
"Am I too late?" Gabe asked a doctor, his chest heaving in exhaustion.
"No, not yet. She is due in another minute or so." The doctor told him impatiently, trying to get everything he needed for the delivery.
Gabe grabbed a sterile white robe from a post on the wall and slipped into it as he approached the bed. The burgundy sheets of velvet from the bed had been flung around wildly and the pillows had been ripped to shreds. Anybody working close to the bed had to be cautious not to slip on the chocobo feathers that had fallen and now littered the floor. The proud farther walked closer to the crowded bed, seeing two priests grabbing their hands in pain as they walked away from the bedside.
"GET RID OF THIS PAIN!" the woman sprawled on the bed cried in agony. It was the high priestess of Fanatics Tower and she was finally going to have her baby. Gabe immediately rushed over to her side and began to comfort her, placing another pillow behind her back to ease her discomfort.
"Cirra," he calmly said as he became lost in her deep green eyes, "I'm sorry that I'm late, but it couldn't be helped. I only just recently obtained the news on my travels."
"It's alright," she breathed faster as the contractions grew closer together. Gabe laid her hand in his and ran his other hand through Cirra's smooth, blonde hair. He did it in a soothing motion to try and relax her in this trying and stressful moment, then kissed her gently on the forehead after a priest wet it down with a cool cloth. Gabe saw that his presence was helping his wife and so he continued to play with her hair, causing Cirra to close her eyes and relax.
"You're doing great Cirra, keep it together!" Gabe encouraged her, watching tears drop from her eyes as she pushed even harder.
"Take deep breaths," a doctor instructed as he watched over her body for signs of the imminent child.
Cirra grabbed Gabe's hand hard but he never flinched. He remained steadfast and loyal, offering his warmth and words of praise. She had both power and great strength for someone in her position, which was why she had been chosen to lead after Kefka's untimely death. Gabe had been courting her since he was a lowly priest himself a few years ago, and she a high priestess in training. They both gazed compassionately into each other's soulful eyes, Cirra grabbing his neck and bringing him closer to kiss as another contraction came on. His blue eyes reflected into hers as she painfully showed him a smile to thank him for his support.
"It's coming!" A priestess announced joyfully, "I can see a head!"
"You hear that? You're doing great!" Gabe whispered closely into Cirra's ear. She graciously accepted the compliment and began to push as hard as she could manage without passing out.
"I'm going to need you to push harder," the doctor yelled over her screams of pain.
She gritted her teeth and pushed harder. Every muscle in her body straining as she continued to push and breathe, push and breathe. Just as she was about to pass out, a baby whined.
"Congratulations!" a priestess exclaimed, "It's a GIRL!"
Cirra and Gabe were both overwhelmed with this miracle of life and wept tears of joy. They had brought such a beautiful little person into the world . . . The baby girl, wrapped in a blanket, was handed to her mother for her to cradle and love for the time being.
"She looks just like her mother," Gabe pointed out, smirking as he did so, "That cute little nose, those beautiful eyes . . ." Cirra cried and held Gabe close to her, putting her forehead tightly against his.
"So, what name have you been thinking of? I know that we were still deciding the other day but-"
"Phoebe," Cirra said, "lovely little Phoebe."
A priest draped in red robes and sashes came in the room after Cirra had a couple minutes with her child and took the baby away to be cleaned and christened. Unknown to the baby, she would become the next high priestess after her mother's term was up. It was how Cirra had come by her position and it was the same for her mother before her. The tower had always been a site for some type of cult at one time or another, and lately the religion had been switched over to Kefka-ism. It was tradition to be carried on for all eternity as long people believed in worshipping deities. They would always need somebody to lead them, somebody to bring the weak-willed together in their faith.
Everyone had left the room once the christening priest had departed, leaving Gabe and Cirra by themselves. They stared into each others eyes, the window to their souls . . . Gabe rested his head on Cirra's breast to listen to her fast beating heart slow, and her right hand stroked his burnt sienna colored hair. They gazed one last time at each other and he kissed her.
"You did wonderfully," Gabe commented Cirra. She looked at him lovingly and pulled him closer to her. Her hand grasped his and they passionately kissed for what seemed like forever. Gabe laid her head back onto a pillow delicately, knowing that Cirra would need to get some sleep. She needed much rest after this stressful ordeal.
"Gabe . . . I'm sorry," Cirra mouthed quietly, her blonde hair wet from sweet and strewn about the velvet pillow she lay on.
"For what?" he asked, kissing her on the lips once more as she rested. The soon to be high priest pulled away from his wife's lips as slow as he could, making a puckering sound as he did so. The whole time he never looked away from her and she closed her eyes. They then loosened their grip and Gabe expected for Cirra to slowly let her hand fall to the soft and waiting sheets below. Instead, her hand fell like a leaf in fall, gracefully and gently to the bed but dead in appearance. At the same moment that occurred Cirra's husband glanced at her face and noticed that it had lost all of its color. In the dire moment that proceeded, her body laid totally still on the bed. Worried, Gabe checked her breathing, only to hear nothing. The blood in her veins grew cold and her lips faded to a bluish hue. He checked her pulse, but not a single beat could be felt.
"No, Noooo!!!!" Gabe yelled frantically, "This can't be happening! NO! Someone help me!! Doctors come quick!" He got into the bed with Cirra and raised her body so he could hold her tightly in his arms.
Two doctors quickly ran into the room and noticed Cirra's unresponsive condition. After ripping Gabe's arms from around her, they laid her down once again in the bed. The first doctor jumped quickly up onto the bed and tried CPR on the unresponsive priestess. He tried for a couple minutes, blowing into her mouth while holding her nose, and when he became winded, the other took over. They tried for ten minutes, stimulating her heart and putting their entire breaths into her lungs, but to no change in her condition. As a foreshadowing of her future, the baby cried uncontrollably in the other room as though it knew what had just happened, leading Gabe to bow his head in mourning and silence. A single tear trickled down his cheek. Why? Why did this have to happen? She was so young . . .
One of the doctors went over to the bed and pulled a sheet over her cold, limp body. Cirra was dead.
The rain relentlessly poured straight down onto a weary Gabe. The priest had traveled non-stop for an entire day from lands afar back to his place of residence. He trudged up the stairs of Fanatics Tower as fast as he could, avoiding the downpour as much as possible by running close to wall. The stairs had become rusted over time and creaked with his every step. He had stopped noticing the sound long ago, but it was a great way to alert everyone in the tower that somebody was climbing the steps. Another priest in white robes passed him going down the stairs, blood staining the cloth that lay over his chest. This wasn't a good sign . . . damn, he needed to hurry now. Gabe neared the top of the building and a solitary bulb at the top outlined a small abode sitting atop the monument to Kefka. Its weak light cast subtle shadows down the stairs and flickered with the wind and poor weather. Someone screamed from inside and Gabe took the last remaining stairs at one time and darted through the door.
It was mass hysteria inside the small bedroom. A place that had once been occupied by the mighty Kefka as his temporary throne was now flooded with the people from all levels of the tower. Priests and priestesses scurried like little ants through the doors, grabbing cloth and hot water for the person they were trying to help. Another scream rang out and Gabe dashed around a corner and into the main bedroom.
"Am I too late?" Gabe asked a doctor, his chest heaving in exhaustion.
"No, not yet. She is due in another minute or so." The doctor told him impatiently, trying to get everything he needed for the delivery.
Gabe grabbed a sterile white robe from a post on the wall and slipped into it as he approached the bed. The burgundy sheets of velvet from the bed had been flung around wildly and the pillows had been ripped to shreds. Anybody working close to the bed had to be cautious not to slip on the chocobo feathers that had fallen and now littered the floor. The proud farther walked closer to the crowded bed, seeing two priests grabbing their hands in pain as they walked away from the bedside.
"GET RID OF THIS PAIN!" the woman sprawled on the bed cried in agony. It was the high priestess of Fanatics Tower and she was finally going to have her baby. Gabe immediately rushed over to her side and began to comfort her, placing another pillow behind her back to ease her discomfort.
"Cirra," he calmly said as he became lost in her deep green eyes, "I'm sorry that I'm late, but it couldn't be helped. I only just recently obtained the news on my travels."
"It's alright," she breathed faster as the contractions grew closer together. Gabe laid her hand in his and ran his other hand through Cirra's smooth, blonde hair. He did it in a soothing motion to try and relax her in this trying and stressful moment, then kissed her gently on the forehead after a priest wet it down with a cool cloth. Gabe saw that his presence was helping his wife and so he continued to play with her hair, causing Cirra to close her eyes and relax.
"You're doing great Cirra, keep it together!" Gabe encouraged her, watching tears drop from her eyes as she pushed even harder.
"Take deep breaths," a doctor instructed as he watched over her body for signs of the imminent child.
Cirra grabbed Gabe's hand hard but he never flinched. He remained steadfast and loyal, offering his warmth and words of praise. She had both power and great strength for someone in her position, which was why she had been chosen to lead after Kefka's untimely death. Gabe had been courting her since he was a lowly priest himself a few years ago, and she a high priestess in training. They both gazed compassionately into each other's soulful eyes, Cirra grabbing his neck and bringing him closer to kiss as another contraction came on. His blue eyes reflected into hers as she painfully showed him a smile to thank him for his support.
"It's coming!" A priestess announced joyfully, "I can see a head!"
"You hear that? You're doing great!" Gabe whispered closely into Cirra's ear. She graciously accepted the compliment and began to push as hard as she could manage without passing out.
"I'm going to need you to push harder," the doctor yelled over her screams of pain.
She gritted her teeth and pushed harder. Every muscle in her body straining as she continued to push and breathe, push and breathe. Just as she was about to pass out, a baby whined.
"Congratulations!" a priestess exclaimed, "It's a GIRL!"
Cirra and Gabe were both overwhelmed with this miracle of life and wept tears of joy. They had brought such a beautiful little person into the world . . . The baby girl, wrapped in a blanket, was handed to her mother for her to cradle and love for the time being.
"She looks just like her mother," Gabe pointed out, smirking as he did so, "That cute little nose, those beautiful eyes . . ." Cirra cried and held Gabe close to her, putting her forehead tightly against his.
"So, what name have you been thinking of? I know that we were still deciding the other day but-"
"Phoebe," Cirra said, "lovely little Phoebe."
A priest draped in red robes and sashes came in the room after Cirra had a couple minutes with her child and took the baby away to be cleaned and christened. Unknown to the baby, she would become the next high priestess after her mother's term was up. It was how Cirra had come by her position and it was the same for her mother before her. The tower had always been a site for some type of cult at one time or another, and lately the religion had been switched over to Kefka-ism. It was tradition to be carried on for all eternity as long people believed in worshipping deities. They would always need somebody to lead them, somebody to bring the weak-willed together in their faith.
Everyone had left the room once the christening priest had departed, leaving Gabe and Cirra by themselves. They stared into each others eyes, the window to their souls . . . Gabe rested his head on Cirra's breast to listen to her fast beating heart slow, and her right hand stroked his burnt sienna colored hair. They gazed one last time at each other and he kissed her.
"You did wonderfully," Gabe commented Cirra. She looked at him lovingly and pulled him closer to her. Her hand grasped his and they passionately kissed for what seemed like forever. Gabe laid her head back onto a pillow delicately, knowing that Cirra would need to get some sleep. She needed much rest after this stressful ordeal.
"Gabe . . . I'm sorry," Cirra mouthed quietly, her blonde hair wet from sweet and strewn about the velvet pillow she lay on.
"For what?" he asked, kissing her on the lips once more as she rested. The soon to be high priest pulled away from his wife's lips as slow as he could, making a puckering sound as he did so. The whole time he never looked away from her and she closed her eyes. They then loosened their grip and Gabe expected for Cirra to slowly let her hand fall to the soft and waiting sheets below. Instead, her hand fell like a leaf in fall, gracefully and gently to the bed but dead in appearance. At the same moment that occurred Cirra's husband glanced at her face and noticed that it had lost all of its color. In the dire moment that proceeded, her body laid totally still on the bed. Worried, Gabe checked her breathing, only to hear nothing. The blood in her veins grew cold and her lips faded to a bluish hue. He checked her pulse, but not a single beat could be felt.
"No, Noooo!!!!" Gabe yelled frantically, "This can't be happening! NO! Someone help me!! Doctors come quick!" He got into the bed with Cirra and raised her body so he could hold her tightly in his arms.
Two doctors quickly ran into the room and noticed Cirra's unresponsive condition. After ripping Gabe's arms from around her, they laid her down once again in the bed. The first doctor jumped quickly up onto the bed and tried CPR on the unresponsive priestess. He tried for a couple minutes, blowing into her mouth while holding her nose, and when he became winded, the other took over. They tried for ten minutes, stimulating her heart and putting their entire breaths into her lungs, but to no change in her condition. As a foreshadowing of her future, the baby cried uncontrollably in the other room as though it knew what had just happened, leading Gabe to bow his head in mourning and silence. A single tear trickled down his cheek. Why? Why did this have to happen? She was so young . . .
One of the doctors went over to the bed and pulled a sheet over her cold, limp body. Cirra was dead.