Chapter 23: Ancient Forces Stir: 5 of 5

The origin of Giruvegan

A war, ordained was a war.

Named it would be, the Thousand Year war. Fought out would it be, by proxies of the higher beings.

But all out, and blatant not, was the first fire of the consuming wrath.

In silence, Xabaam readied the Espers. Felt not, still did the Gods, the failure of the Espers. For send not, had they there Seraphs holy. For thought they, that in no harm were their lesser creations.

Grow did the Strength of the feral Espers, powerful had they become. Battle ready were they always. IN constant darkness their hearts thrived. Doomed were they, to carry on the dark legacy of Xabaam. Should they not pass the test of strength, or should they emerge triumphant against their master of former.

They would be Feral for as long as Xabaam's hold was true and fast.

But doubt did Xabaam, the absolute victory of his newfound lackeys. Zodiark, that of which was the stongest, against its own ilk or even Ahnas, was bound permanently to a fetter he did not fashion. Do nothing could Xabaam, to lighten Zodiark's burden, or hasten his growth, for he did not create Zodiark nor the contrivances that bind him, vitually weakened.

Shun aside did Xabaam the thoughts of defeat and eternal wrath of the Gods.

Once was he punished, no more deemed he fit to suffer. He now, was determined to become, the punisher.

Seem did it, that should Zodiark be sent into battle, he would be slain, defend himself quickly, he could not. Blessed with unmatched mobility, was he not. For he lacked only the speed to assail and crush the gods.

For fresh was the fetter, and he had not been able to harness or surmount his handicap.

The Gigas

The Corrupt

The Whisper

The Bringer of Order

The Wroth God

The Darkening Cloud

The Impure

The Walker of the Wheel

The Condemner

The Death Seraph

The Judge Sal

The High Seraph

All would charge into battle.

All except the Keeper of Precepts.

And when at last, a full moon, that night was. But the moon did not emanate the radiant gold and yellow.

Loom did a Crimson moon. Against a pitch-black sky.

And know then did the Gods, know then did the Seraphs, that failed had their adherents.

A whorl, a whorl of Cloud mist and flame, of gold and white, appeared amidst the darkening sky and the red color of the Moon.

The Gods, and the Seraphs, standing proud.

Amiss, were many things.

Left alive was no Hume. Tainted had been the water and the land, corruption, or hunger had been the death of the Humes.

For Humes lay, sprawled were they upon the barren earth. Billions of them, far as the Gods could lay eye upon.

The crimson Moon. Fashion not did the Gods a Moon of Crimson.

The sable sky. Remember not did the Gods of contriving a sky that blackened the land.

Enraged were they.

And in their rage, conjure did their hate, whips of lightning which scarred the black sky. Foreboding bellows of deep rolling thunder. Fissures which snaked across the land. Waves of tidal scale which drowned the barren earth.

Yet none was changed. The Sky remained of black, the Moon of deep Crimson.

Appear did suddenly, ten whorls of crimson flame and black cloud and tainted mist. Subside did then the whorls subside and reveal the Espers. Feral hearts as clear to the gods as the thousands of Humes falling into the Abyss.

In Roars, in sudden gusts of sacred wind, in eruptions of tainted flame, in rabid stomps the battle did start.

Espers tore at the Seraphs and the Gods. The Espers outnumbered two to one.

And for one millennia, did they engage in epic combat.

And when at last, struck was the final blow, and the Espers were banished in eternal punishment. Destined where they to lie in wait, in wait for the next beings who would free them.

But, the battle, taken its toll it had. And too terrible a toll was it.

For Ivalice was obliterated. In the void, did fragments of the once proud bastion of the Gods, was now drifting silently in the void.

No Hume was left. All Seraphs were pushed to passiveness. The Gods were distraught.

Only one solution did they deem fit, only one for the Salvation of Ivalice.

Together did they take several of the drifting continents, meld did they these lands together, and on its soil did the build a grand city. Seraphs and Gods, build did they this City hand in hand. And when at last, the metropolis was complete.

Now did the gods divulge their resolution to the horrendous problem at hand. Sacrifice would they their physical energies for the land. Channel would they their strength to the reformation of Ivalice.

A final order did the Gods give to the Seraphs. To safeguard Ivalice whilst they regenerated it.

And so did the Gods enter the Halls of their great city. And at the very heart of their grand creation, they focused their powers. Their Mist, along with the stellar energies they possessed intussuscepted into a great Crystal. And brilliant light glowed from the Crystal.

And through time, the fragments did piece together. They formed into a sphere slowly. The light growing more powerful by the Eon.

The Seraphs watched in awe upon the void.

And at last, Ivalice was reborn from the ahes of the flame which had purged it.

Xabaam was no more than mere wisps which was too weak to imbibe all the new denizens of Ivalice with Darkness.

Ascend did the weary essences of the Gods to the Higher void.

And that is how Giruvegan originated. For Giruvegan is the heart of Ivalice. All of the God's strength and energy had been funneled and have converged into the Grand crystal.

Thus the Origin of the Shadow, end with the Origin of the Light.

Mustapha Mond

Ordalian Historian