Final Fantasy IV 100 Themes
4: Change
One million galaxies swirled above and below, close enough to touch but beyond reach, captured in glass, frozen in time. A mirror, the length of the room, ran along the northernmost wall, crystalline panels nearly seamless, barely distinguishable from one another through the inky darkness. It was an altar, rising up to the heavens, extending to the moon, a sort of lunar bridge to another world beyond this mortal one. Frozen in eternal silence, the room likened the depths of space, ethereal, lonely, and immortal.
Light that would have been blinding had it not been so gentle flooded the space all at once as four silhouettes shone against the golden backdrop of moonbeams. As the light died away it became clear that these folk were not the normal sort; they had clearly braved unspeakable dangers to reach this Sanctuary. For what had they faced death? Why had they scaled mountain and fought fiend to reach this secluded place, so far from prying eyes?
The answer was different for each of them, as different as they were from one another, in fact. The two children, no more than ten, had come to serve as scouts, not for the region but for a man and his and his intentions, but also they had come for themselves. To ascend this mountain, terrible enough to be called Ordeals was a task that had surely sharpened their skills beyond their previous capabilities. Indeed, in a few days they had learned more than in all of their years. The elder, eyebrows as white as the snow that dusted the peak of this very mountain, had come to seek a tool for revenge. The letting of his dearest daughter's blood had led him to desperately search for imaginary spells on terrible mountains and hope to prevail.
Had they climbed this mountain alone this sacred altar would not have permitted them entrance, their reasons were far too selfish, but they had been granted permission by the Great Light because of the final form; who now stood uncertainly in their midst.
Indeed, the young man at first appeared a demon, clad in armor of blackest night, his face hidden behind a grizzly, horned, helmet. Yet as he lifted his visor and lowered the grate that hid his mouth from view he was revealed to be a man of heroic countenance. The darkness he was clad in did not seem to fit one who had the sort of face painted on the stained glass windows of cathedrals, and the Great Light knew this, for he could look into the heart of the man.
He had ascended this cursed peak to reach this hallowed chamber in order to be granted a power great enough to stave off the darkness. His greatest desire, one he thought selfish, was to save the woman he loved from the sinister clutches of his sworn enemy and stop the kingdom he adored from conquering an undeserving world (also under the control of this monstrous man – this Golbez).
My son… How long have I waited for you to come to me…How long…
A sonorous voice called to the man, and an invisible hand reached up to gently pull him forward into the bright light that now swelled in front of the mirrors. The man, feeling wary but knowing this was the only way to save the woman he cared for, allowed the Great Light to herd him. As he neared the light solidified, drawn into a single beam and then into a staff, at last manifesting itself as a gleaming blade.
Your soul… the pain you are in…the Great Light muttered as it guided the man's hand to the blade, seeming to clear its head after a moment and beginning again. The tragedy that unfolds now causes my heart to ache so, but there is nothing to be done, except… Except to infuse within you a last piece of my soul.
"Wha-what?"
Light, like a blanket, engulfed the man. A feeling unlike any other welled up within him for a brief moment, a feeling that almost made him cry it was so terribly lonely and derelict, but then it was expelled from him. He found himself staring at a man who looked very much like him, he only knew it was not because the eyes were not green and the hair was much too long. He was wearing armored that seemed fashioned from starlight, the same sword he himself now held gripped in his right hand.
Take sword in hand, my son, and bid farewell to the blood and pain that so stains your past…
The light faded and gasps uttered by his companions caused him to stare at himself, recoiling at the sight. He was garbed in the same starlight armor as that unusual man, swathed in a cape as light as gossamer, as soft as the breath of the wind. His hair, usually tied in a messy bun atop his head so it stayed well out of his way, now flowed freely about his face, falling well past his shoulder blades.
His eyes lighted on his own reflection, curious, but he found the Dark Knight still facing him. At once, given a mind of its own, it stepped through the glass as if stepping through a waterfall, materializing in front of him. Raising its head to stare at him, it crouched into a pose of attack.
Instinctually, he side stepped what would have been a killing blow, parrying the attack and causing the Dark Knight, himself, to stumble backward. Somehow, he knew fighting back would not avail him, and so he continued to dodge and parry, though he did not remain unscathed for long. The Dark Knight fought with a skill that most opponents did not possess, and he realized with a start that it was because he was truly that skilled himself.
A light shone brightly once more as the Dark Knight stumbled backwards, shattering into one million shards of radiance, flying every which way, much like a shattering mirror.
Yes. There are battles more worthy than Vengeance or even Justice. A Paladin's greatest allies are his Compassion and his Mercy. Remember this, my son.
Embraced by light, he closed his eyes as half-remembered warmth filled him, the parting words of the Great Light whispered in his ears, soft as a childhood memory.
May this Light be your strength, though it is the last of mine.
Left alone, the man stared at his blade, feeling suddenly more prepared for what was ahead of him, but still longing for answers.