Act Seven: The Fiend of Earth

Cecil didn't know how long he had been lying in the road, but when he next opened his eyes, the sun had moved noticeably higher in the sky behind the cloud cover, and he realized that he couldn't remember a thing after collapsing. He drew a deep breath, hoisting himself off the ground and promptly stumbling forward when his injured foot reminded him of just how long the walk to the distant village was actually going to be.

One thing at a time…first, to find a place I can properly recover. Then I can figure out what the hell I'm going to do next…

By the time he reached the village gates, every part of him had started aching all over again with the exception of perhaps his eyelashes. He blinked warily as he took in the crowded huddle of look-alike cottages and tall, skinny businesses crammed between them on the narrow but tidy limestone-laid streets. A couple in matching white mage apprentice robes exited a shop to his right, laughing bawdily about a private joke as they turned up the main drag, swinging a shopping bag between them. Cecil momentarily entertained the thought of following them to ask for help, but felt an icy tendril of panic ensnare his heart as his eyes silently trailed their retreating forms to their next destination.

They were heading straight for a soaring tower at the end of the promenade, ivory white that melted against the dreary gray of the sky like a spill of clouds in a watercolor. It looked as if it had been lifted straight from the pages of a fairytale; it was also unsettlingly very familiar. Cecil could easily recall dashing through that same promenade, flanked by soldiers, the village a blur of nameless people and drab, inoffensive brick dwellings.

The gods cannot possibly despise me this much…

The village nameplate fastened on the wall nearest to him was entombed in a tightly-woven thatch of wild grape vines that were studded with clusters of blooming white flowers. With one forceful swipe, Cecil tore away a tangle of vines, the tissue-thin petals scattering in the wind.

Mysidia

He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again, and read the name plate once more, just to be sure he wasn't hallucinating from the potent combination of pain and dehydration that was ravaging both his body and his sanity. Even so, the letters on the plate had not magically rearranged themselves into a new location.

Oh gods… Cecil hadn't realized he had stopped breathing until his throat had cracked so loudly, desperate for air, that a nearby villager spun around to stare at him from the garden bed she was tending. As if he were observing a collision of airships in the yard back home in Baron, helpless to intervene from his position on the overlook, he watched the woman's eyes slowly fade to black and her lips disappear into a thin line, her gaze drifting from his sea-ravaged face to his darkened armor. She recognizes me, he thought, his pulse quickening. And why wouldn't she? It was only a week ago that I led the Red Wings here to steal the Crystal of Water. When the Red Wings had made their way through town, Cecil had ordered for them to keep their eyes on the prize and not terrorize the village itself, but it hadn't meant that people weren't confused by their presence. Cecil was sure it had been easy for the villagers to put two and two together after the outpouring of screams from the tower – when he and the others had made their escape with the crystal, there had been no one left in the streets to gawk at them like there had been when they had arrived – everyone had fled for their lives.

How could I possibly ask for help from any of these people after what I've done…?

But he already knew he would suffer whatever shame he was fated to endure, no matter the extent – he would make the choice to march onward into disgrace and readily accept the consequences for the horrors he had inflicted.

He knew this because kind, innocent people like Rydia, Edward and Yang were no longer able to make any choices of their own ever again – burdensome or otherwise – because of the danger he had brought to their lives.

He knew because the only reason he had left to draw breath, what had ultimately convinced him not to let himself expire on that beach, was the desperate, insatiable need to free Rosa from Golbez's clutches before his inadequacies destroyed her too.

Rydia…Edward…Yang! You gave your lives to save the crystals, Rosa and I… I owe you all far greater a penance than I'll ever be able to pay in this lifetime…

He finally allowed himself a deep, shaking breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, the gardening woman had fled, probably to warn her friends that Calamity Cecil was back to finish what he had started. Cecil's gaze scrutinized the northeastern end of the village that was nestled in the shadows of the Tower of Prayer, spotting a small house with tightly-drawn blinds covering the two gaping windows that looked like a pair of perpetually sleepy eyes. There was at least one silver lining to him washing up in Mysidia, of all places…he had been unexpectedly blessed with a direct route to Baron.

All I need to do is gain access to the Devil's Road – then I can go home. I'll find Cid, and then… He lowered his head, swallowing back the acid that had risen in his throat.

The gods only know how long it has been since Leviathan attacked – between nearly drowning and the blackouts in Fabul, my memory now has more holes than a moth-eaten garment locked in an attic. Cid, Amelia…you both have to be all right!

Cecil kept his eyes low to the ground as he crossed into the village proper, mentally churning through every possible scenario that would get him in decent enough condition to traverse the Devil's Road. He had had it drilled into him since he was a child that the Devil's Road was not akin to a shortcut one could easily take to hop between Baron and Mysidia at will. The stamina and spiritual fortitude it took to withstand the tug of the infinite warped dimensions that shaped the passage were intense enough for those blessed with those qualities in abundance (typically mages, who could call upon their mana reserves to safely cross), let alone a half-drowned dark knight with nary a drop of magical blood in his body.

So, if he wanted to have even half a chance of not being lost between dimensions forever (at best) or having his limbs and/or organs crushed into oblivion (at worst), he had to first get himself thoroughly healed.

Perhaps the inn? Cecil thought, pausing at a four-way convergence of roads. The inn was the largest building in the village second to the Tower of Prayer, which might mean it housed a kind soul or two that would be willing to help him – although he didn't have a cute little girl like Rydia by his side like he had in Kaipo to make helping him seem more appealing. If at all possible, he didn't want to stand even in a stone-throw's distance of the Tower of Prayer – he had a sneaking suspicion that if the Elder spotted him crawling around Mysidia like the cockroach that he was, someone would be sent sooner rather than later to exterminate him. Cecil could only pray that the woman who had run away earlier hadn't bolted straight for the tower to report him, but that seemed extremely optimistic, even for him.

He turned right, letting himself get swept away in a crowd of mages that were pouring out of another building across the way and were all heading straight for the business district – they looked like students of all ages that had been released for their afternoon break. While many splintered off into their own cliques and began to flock toward nearby houses or green space with their packed lunches, a good amount of the students continued toward the inn, some of them desperately sorting through every last piece of lint in their robe pockets to scrounge up enough gil so that they didn't have to turn tail and head home for a boring bowl of handcrafted gruel.

There must be a pub within. Surely there is at least one traveler who would be willing to help me.

The bell hanging above the doorframe was jangling cheerily as the door kept swinging open to let in each cluster of students, all of them tromping upstairs where a mouth-watering aroma of stewed meat was hanging temptingly in the air. As Cecil left the stairwell to make his way to the less-crowded bar top, a poster with a harried sketch of several dead, bloodied bodies had been posted along with a caption scrawled underneath:

NEVER FORGET!

The atrocities that occurred in our hallowed tower.

The blood spilled by our Baronian brothers.

The lives of the brave who fell before their swords in defense of the Crystal.

Cecil averted his gaze and covered his mouth, the acid now rising ever higher in the back of his mouth. I can't turn back – Rosa's life depends on it. As he stepped inside the pub, slipping between the throngs of seated, oblivious students who were already heads-down into very intense conversations about everything other than their lessons, the few non-student patrons that were lounging at the bar turned in unison to stare at him, as if just his presence had alerted them to something foul. Cecil steeled his courage and forced himself to take a spot at the end of the bar, lifting his chin and trying to soften his jaw, which was clenching through the persistent throb of his injuries. Without his helmet, he had to be even more conscientious of how he came off to strangers. For a fleeting moment, when he blinked, he could see Rydia staring up at him from the floor of the Kaipo inn, holding his helmet between tiny white hands.

"You look much better without it. People can see your eyes this way."

"What do you think you're doing back here, dark knight of Baron? And where are your little friends this time?"

Cecil flinched, snapping out of it as he noticed one of the men at the bar narrowing his eyes. He began to drum his fingers against his glass, frosted with an opaque spray of ice that obscured the milky orange liquid within. It was obvious by his manner of dress and pointed accusation that he was a local – a black mage, most likely – and now that Cecil took a better look at the others surrounding him, his heart sank with the realization that there were no benevolent travelers to be found here. It was disconcerting, knowing that every stranger in a room knew who you were, all while you were utterly vexed…

"I have need of the Devil's Road," Cecil began, but the mage unleashed a bark of laughter before he could finish, shaking his head.

"Are you delusional? It was sealed to keep Baronian scum out. Did you really think we'd be stupid enough to leave the pathway open for more of you to come here?"

Sealed!? They…they can do that?

The black mage tilted his head, his growing smile giving away the pure pleasure he was getting from seeing Cecil stymied by this news.

"How can it be unsealed?" Cecil finally choked out. The mage tugged his straw hat down over his eyes, clicking his tongue against the roof his mouth.

"Only the Elder has the power to open the Devil's Road again. But know that he will never do so as long as the bodies of our friends rot beneath the planet's surface. It's nary been enough time for the soil of their graves to settle, yet here you are, back for more. When will you be done torturing us?"

"Please," Cecil gasped, bowing his head as he clasped his hands together. "It's not my intention to inflict any more pain upon you – my arrival was a calamitous accident. All I want is…" But before he could finish, the mage muttered a quick spell and disappeared in a plume of purple smoke. The men who had been on either side of him followed suit, the billowing exhaust rushing over Cecil. He coughed and fanned the smoke way from his face, clenching his stinging eyes shut. Well, that went as well as expected.

For a few beats, the noise in the room seemed to completely cease – the students were staring at Cecil's hunched figure in the dissipating smoke, hands filled with food paused half-way to their mouths. But when it became apparent that nothing too dramatic had happened, the volume in the room began to quickly rise again, and dozens of eyes tore themselves away from the pathetic spectacle to go back to their lunches.

"Don't worry dear, not all of us are like that," a soft voice drifted through the smoke. Cecil turned and saw a perky woman that had materialized behind the counter, cherry-red lips as shiny as the polished bar top gleaming welcomingly as she spoke. Her pink hair was tied back from her face in a half-ponytail, and she wore a cropped lace-up top and low-hanging leather skirt that left very little to the imagination between the stretch of her almond-toasted navel and chest. She was holding a bottle of hi-potion that was sweating profusely in her ring-adorned grip – it looked as if she had just relieved it from an icebox. "I rushed to the kitchen to get you something when you walked in, and now I come back to all this – gods, you look terrible!" She shoved the bottle across the counter, and Cecil grabbed it gratefully, practically tearing the cork in two as he popped it out. She folded her arms under her chest as she gingerly bit down on her lip, eyeing the circles etched beneath his eyes and the hollow curve of his bruised jaw. "It's on the house."

She must be the barkeep – thank the gods!

"Thank you," Cecil replied, hardly able to get the last syllable out before greedily downing the drink in one long gulp. When he finished, he dropped the empty bottle on the counter, inhaling deeply. His lungs felt as if they were on fire, and something strange was tingling behind his skull – maybe he had drunk the medicine too fast? If what that man said about the Devil's Road is true…then I have no choice…I'll have to see the Elder before I can go anywhere. He peered up at the woman, clutching the counter when he felt a rush of numbness suddenly seize his feet. "I…ugh…!"

"Are you alright?" the woman gasped, and Cecil nodded, despite the starlight exploding in his eyes.

"Y-Yes…I think my body is just reacting to the potion – maybe I was doing worse than I thought." He shook his head, peering up at her. "The Elder – can he still be found in the Tower of Prayer?"

"Oh yes," she replied, the curve of her stomach muscles jutting teasingly as she leaned against the wall, arching her back. "The Elder has been locked up in there for an interminable time, praying for the souls of those you unjustly murdered."

"Huh?" Cecil blinked, not sure he was hearing her quite right. The tingling had transformed into full-fledged static in his ears, and he felt as if his eyes had weights tied to his lashes.

"What did you think would happen if you came back, hellion?" She cooed in a sickeningly-sweet voice, pushing herself off of the wall and leaning over the counter so closely that her nose nearly brushed Cecil's. Even though she seemed to be going in slow motion, his eyes couldn't keep up with her movements, and he nearly screamed in shock when his trembling reflection suddenly filled her eyes, wide and unblinking as she hissed in his face. "You will pay for your sins!"

"W-Wait…" Cecil mumbled, tripping over his own words as the numbness that had claimed his feet now climbed its way toward his chest and throat, the sensation draining from his lips and tongue as he tried to choke out the rest of his plea. The last thing he heard was the sound of the empty bottle crashing to the ground as his hands thrashed to grab hold of something – anything – that would keep him upright as the pub melted into a glistening pool of cherry red sludge.

The sound of splashing water greeted Cecil when he next opened his eyes. He was sprawled across a stretch of stinging-hot elevated concrete, with nary a patch of shade to protect him from the sun, which had finally broken through the clouds and was shining on him like a scorching spotlight. Below, he could make out a few younger mages gathered around a little pond to his left, sitting on logs and fishing – one of them had just caught a fish, and was reeling it in excitedly as the poor thing flopped about on the surface of the water, fruitlessly wasting its last gasps of breath – Cecil found that he could relate with the fish on a level he was not entirely comfortable admitting.

When he tried to get up, his legs and hands buckled from underneath him, and he fell back to the ground, dizzily wondering why his limbs suddenly felt several feet too short to properly lift his weight. As he lowered his head to regain his bearings, a flash of downy pink caught his eye where there should have been the ink-like spill of black from his armor. Wondering if he was still dreaming, Cecil stretched his hand forward, a strangled gasp escaping his throat. His fingers had been replaced by cloven pig's feet, and his subsequent cry of surprise brought about a loud snort through his newly-acquired pig nose.

"Wheeeek wheee!"

(What the hell just happened to me?)

"Anja…what on heavens did you do?"

Cecil heard the sound of footsteps approaching, but realized he couldn't turn his newly-zoomorphic head all the way toward the direction of the voice. A lilting giggle erupted, and Cecil felt a small hand on his…ugh, haunches, patting him eagerly like a piece of prize meat.

"I learned "Pig", Momma! Isn't that good?"

"It is, I suppose, but is it too much to ask that you not experiment the five minutes I have my back turned?"

"I don't understand."

"…Of course, you don't."

Cecil knew enough about black magic to understand that "Pig" was a spell – fairly innocuous when used among children to tease each other, but far more debilitating when cast by one of the few known monsters of the world that could use it in the field if you did not have a white or black mage for backup.

I've been cursed!? But it sounds like I'm still in Mysidia, at least… Two lambskin flats emerged in his line of sight, a pink-threaded robe swishing as their owner came to a halt. The children at the pond had lost interest in their fish once "Momma" had started lecturing Anja, and Cecil could hear them laughing and slinging insults his way that would have made Kain blush – he wondered if they had been the ones to put the little girl up to cursing him.

He heard the low murmuring of an Esuna spell, and moments later, felt a tingling sensation at the ends of his new limbs, watching with a mix of fascination and horror as the cleft between his claws widened and began to split cleanly back into five trembling digits. The bones in his face felt as if they were being melted by molten lava, with invisible hands reaching through his flesh and fashioning him a new skull like an artesian perched at a potter's wheel. His back spasmed and popped, and before he knew it, he found himself flopped flat on his back in a pool of his own sweat, his newly-formed hands immediately reaching for his chest and stomach to ensure he was once-again fully clothed – his knowledge of the spell didn't reach deep enough for him to recall that minor, but oh-so-very important detail.

Luckily, his hands struck gold – or iron, as it were, and he released an unabashed sigh of relief. His face was stained red with humiliation as it was – perhaps the gods realized he had been degraded enough for the day.

"Momma" leaned over Cecil, her lips pursed. He couldn't make out her features very well beneath the cat-ear hood she had slung over her head, but a stray lock of curly black hair was poking out of the collar of her robe. She was joined by whom he could only assume was Anja, a tiny thing in dragging apprentice black mage robes with a straw hat slung over her back, waist-length black hair hanging in tangled knots over her shoulders. Her grin indicated that she was still very pleased with herself, even if her mother had undone her hard work within seconds. Before Cecil could even flinch, the woman planted her foot into his sternum, reaching down and relieving him of the Deathbringer in one clean sweep of her hand.

"Do you know where you are?" the woman asked, and Cecil shook his head slowly, wondering if it was all right to attempt to sit up, or if that would be seen as a threatening action even though he was now weaponless. He decided to err on the side of caution and remain as vulnerable as possible. The woman appeared to be a white mage, and her magic was far more potent than Cecil was expecting – he could feel the Esuna spell hard at work mending his body's wounds beyond the Pig spell – he suspected now, far too late, that he had been poisoned by the barkeep. Once again, he found himself amazed by his naïveté – he couldn't help but speculate that Rydia or Yang would have never let this happen (Edward, he was not so sure…).

"You've been taken to the portico of the Tower of Prayer," she answered. "I serve under our Elder, and had gone to fetch him after you were…escorted here. Imagine my surprise when he informed me that he's been expecting you and wanted you to be brought inside right away."

"W-What?" Cecil croaked. "He wants to see me? Why?"

"It's none of my concern," she snapped. "Are you getting up, or not? It's rude to keep him waiting. Either follow me, or begone from this place."

I have no choice, Cecil thought, gingerly climbing to his feet as Anja smirked up at him. If he's the only one who can unseal the Devil's Road… The woman turned to her daughter, ordering her to go back to her friends, and turned on her heel, gesturing for Cecil to follow her up the remainder of the stairs to the tower that he could now clearly make out rising over them. Unlike his last visit here, today the tower gates were thrown wide-open, as if beckoning him to come inside, and there were no mages standing guard. Once Cecil and the white mage had stepped inside, the double doors shut behind them silently, even though there had been no one standing there to close them.

At the end of the corridor in the tower's atrium stood another black mage, a man with short-cropped blonde hair that nodded at the woman as they came closer. He was guarding the open staircase that Cecil knew led to the crystal room, and Cecil halted in place as the woman broke away from him to return to the black mage's side, holding the Deathbringer in her hands away from her body like one would a satchel of refuse.

"Is he the one Marissa left behind?" the black mage asked the white mage, and her eyes flashed in the affirmative. Cecil supposed "Marissa" was the barkeep. He turned back to Cecil, one eyebrow cocked as he tipped his emerald-topped silver rod threateningly.

"He is coming now. I don't think I have to warn you of what will happen if you show any disrespect."

Before Cecil could indicate he was in total agreement, a third figure draped in flickering shadows from the infinite sconces of candles that lined the stairwell rose behind the mages, right on cue. Cecil lowered his eyes as the echo of bare feet slapping against stone rang out in the atrium, and the two mages stepped aside, the white mage handing the new arrival Cecil's sword with nary an introductory word. He took hold of the Deathbringer without even looking at it, the sword's weight noticeably tugging his stooped shoulders down as his gaze swept over Cecil's frozen form.

It was indeed the Elder, who appeared to have aged one-hundred years since Cecil saw him last. He was bald at the crown of his head, but had brown hair speckled with gray and white growing out at the sides that reached his shoulders, pulled back into a modest ponytail. His beard reached well past his chest and hung over his gray and red robes – it had transformed into a blanket of snow white, no longer holding any of the pigment that was lingering in his hair. Both his eyes and mouth were creased with deep lines that looked as if ditches had been dug in his face, and there was no sign of light in his green eyes despite the brilliant crystal chandelier dangling above them.

"So, the whisperings are true – you are the dark knight who came before," the Elder said by way of introduction. "Why have you returned to this hallowed hall?"

Cecil raised his eyes to meet the Elder's, silently praying that the white mage's healing magic was enough to keep him standing while he made his plea – his heart was about to burst out of his chest from hammering so fast. He knew he was one aberration away from certain death – he was weaponless, powerless, friendless, and standing before one of the most powerful mages in the world – if the rumors were to be believed.

"My name is Cecil Harvey, and until recently, I served as Lord Captain of Baron's airship fleet. When I came before, I did so at the orders of my king – orders which I lacked the courage to disobey."

The Elder raised his eyebrows.

"You've come to apologize, then? Words do not heal wounds, dark knight, nor do they restore life's flame to those whose candles you have doused."

Cecil lowered his head. He didn't think it was possible, but he felt even more ashamed by the Elder's mild tone. There had been no malice or hatred when he spoke – only deep, unrelenting despair. In the eyes of the Mysidians, I am nothing more than a terrorist – I'm no better than Golbez.

Still, if the road to Baron did not open to him, Cecil knew he deserved this. But more so, what he needed to feel the Mysidians' rage, their anger, their hatred – so that he could feel something remotely human again after Kain and Leviathan had crushed the little spirit he had had left. Why couldn't the Elder at least give him that?

Instead, the Elder stepped forward, offering Cecil the Deathbringer insistently, as if he couldn't stand to be touching it any longer. Cecil blinked, taking the sword back and sheathing it quickly before anyone could get the wrong idea about his intentions. The Elder then reached out, cupping Cecil's chin in his hands and lifting his head with the tenderness of a mother's caress. Cecil shrank under his touch, surprised. The Elder was staring straight into his eyes, and as much as Cecil wanted to look away, he forced himself to stare forward, sliding his hands behind his back to hide their trembling. Finally, the Elder released him, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"I do see a glimmer of light in you that did not show itself before," the Elder murmured. "So, I will hear your words." Cecil swallowed the lump that had been forming in his throat and nodded – this might be his only chance to plead his case and get the road unsealed.

"I seek to stop a man named Golbez who has taken control of Baron. I was on my way to rescue a friend he holds captive when Leviathan came and struck our ship. I…I do not know what became of my companions. I fear they are…" But he couldn't bring himself to finish, the dreaded word wilting on his lips as he looked away. The Elder merely nodded and turned to the mages behind him, his wrist turning slightly beneath the sleeve of his robe toward the stairwell. They nodded in unison and retreated up the stairs, silently disappearing from sight. The Elder then turned back to Cecil, folding his fingers together as he spoke.

"That was no doubt a part of the test that has been ordained for you. But as long as you lean upon that dark sword for strength, you have no hope of defeating the evil foe you face. You hunt a monster, but in so doing you become one. Slowly but surely, the darkness will taint your soul as well, until one day nothing else remains."

"Become a…monster?" Cecil whispered. It was as if the Elder could read every fear he had etched in his heart. He knew that everything the Elder spoke was true, but to hear it said aloud, by a total stranger who didn't know him from Adam, shook him to his core. Had his body not been weakening, and his very soul fading into nothingness, with each subsequent cast of the Dark Wave?

"In just our short time apart, I can already see a drastic retrogression," the Elder frowned, eyeing the Deathbringer. "Make no mistake, Cecil Harvey – if you continue down this path, it will only be a matter of time – by the next full moon, I would wager – that the darkness' hold will claim you forevermore."

"I…I won't let that happen!" Cecil cried. The next full moon? That could only be a matter of weeks…by that time, Rosa could be... "I swore to myself when I was gifted this blade that I would conquer the darkness – I need only borrow its strength long enough to help my friends. After that…"

"You'll be doing nothing save for borrowing against your blood debt and hastening your inevitable demise. If you truly wish to cleanse yourself of darkness and face this man of whom you speak, then your only chance is to venture to Mount Ordeals in the east. I have seen it in my dreams – destiny awaits you there."

Mount Ordeals? But I have to be in Baron! I have to get an airship, and…

"But my friend…she is in grave danger," Cecil protested. "My time is limited – I couldn't possibly risk her life for a pilgrimage out east."

"This friend means much to you, doesn't she? But you must not let fear drive you to haste."

"Fear?" Cecil shook his head. "I'm not afraid…I'm…"

"What you are, is blind," the Elder muttered. "You are blind to that which is right in front of you – blind to what your heart tells you to be true above all else, and blind to the real danger you find yourself. Unless you lift the veil of darkness from your eyes, no matter how fervently you seek the light, you will forever only find shadows."

Cecil's back teeth were grinding to dust; he could only stare at the Elder in disbelief, the blood draining from his face. I'm…blind? Where have I heard something like that before…?

The Elder lowered his gaze, concerned about how pale the knight before him had become in a matter of seconds. "Forgive my harsh words – I only mean to help you understand. The fate that hangs about your shoulders is one far greater than you know – and I assure you it is tied intricately to your friend's, as well. First, you must ascend Mount Ordeals, and trade your dark sword for one of light. Should the hallowed light deem you worthy, you will be made a paladin – a warrior of virtue. But know it will be no easy trial. Many are the men who have scaled the mountain, but not one has returned. Will you try where all others have failed?"

A paladin…? Cecil lowered his eyes. A warrior of virtue. One that doesn't have to turn to the dark sword. Is this really the only chance I have to save Rosa…and myself? The answer to my long-unanswered prayers? But without the darkness as my crutch…do I really have the strength to conquer such a trial?

But if I do nothing… He clenched his fists, suddenly feeling as if he had swallowed sand. …It sounds like a matter of "when", not "if", I'll succumb to the darkness…and when that happens…

Rosa's tear-stained face filled his vision, her terror-filled screams from the Fabulian crystal chamber echoing in his skull with each frenzied beat of his heart.

"…I will."

"Good," the Elder nodded. "But you will have little chance with that dark sword alone. So, I will provide two mages to accompany you." He clapped his hands together. "Palom! Porom!"

Cecil heard hurried, feather-light footsteps and turned to his left. A young girl was rushing in from a corridor that lead from a classroom, her cherubic cheeks even rounder than Rydia's. She had light brown hair pulled up in a short ponytail that hardly consisted of more than a nub, the rest of it tumbling loose just below her ears, pierced with emerald studs. A matching emerald and gold pendant hung from her neck, bouncing against the chest of her red and white striped jumpsuit, with a green cape-length vest slung over it. She bowed when she approached the Elder and Cecil, pretty chestnut eyes that were framed with unusually long lashes lowering toward the floor.

"Did you need something?" she asked. Her voice was naturally squeaky, despite her attempt to lower it to a respectable level as she panted for breath.

"Where is Palom?" the Elder frowned, raising an eyebrow. The girl lifted her gaze, looking around frantically as she pouted.

"Oh, that brother of mine…I thought he was right behind me!" She put her fingers between her lips and whistled loudly. "PALOM!"

Suddenly, in a burst of yellow smoke, another small figure appeared behind the girl, making horrid faces at the back of her head. He was her mirror image right down to the dimple in both of their right cheeks – he too had a ponytail, albeit braided and slightly longer than the girl's, and matching chestnut eyes that shone with a mischievous glint. He wore ruby earrings that matched a ruby and gold pendant, and a green and white jumpsuit with a red vest-cape. He sauntered up to Cecil and smirked wickedly, offering him a one-fingered salute in greeting. Cecil noticed that the boy had tilted his body just at the right angle so that the Elder couldn't see what he was doing through the dissipating smoke.

"So, you're that filthy dark knight from Baron! I'm only helping you because the Elder told me to. You'd better be thankful!"

Cecil pressed his lips together, resisting the urge to knock this little brat upside the head – it wasn't what he had said more so than the way he had said it that raised Cecil's hackles. His eyes darted from the boy back to the girl, who at least had the grace to blush with embarrassment at his outburst, back to the Elder, who was staring at him patiently, wearing absolutely no emotion on his face. When Cecil realized no one else was coming, he cleared his throat, trying to keep his tone as neutral and inoffensive as possible.

"These are the two mages?"

"Yes. Twins," the Elder replied calmly. "Palom…" the boy's smirk deepened, "…And Porom." The girl bowed her head again. "They are young, and still in their apprenticeship, but I can vouch for their abilities." Cecil opened his mouth, but words failed him. "Young" was the understatement of the century.

"What he means is that I'm Mysidia's most esteemed magical prodigy," Palom crowed, "And you're incredibly lucky to have me along!"

"Palom!" the Elder boomed, "This is for your training as much as it is for him! Remember that."

"Your name is Cecil, right?" Porom asked sweetly. "Pleased to meet you." She glared at her brother and smacked him in the back of his head, which Cecil couldn't help but vicariously relish. "Palom!"

"Right… Nice to meet you," Palom yawned. "Can we go now?" Still stunned, Cecil turned to the Elder, who was shaking his head.

"All three of you will need to prepare yourselves well before you leave," he frowned. "The trials of the mountain can wait 'til morn. I will excuse you two from lessons for the rest of the day so that you may gather provisions for your journey. Cecil, as for yourself…" the Elder raised a brow as he took in Cecil's battered form. "…I see that further healing is needed. You'll have no hope of surviving much of anything in that state, even with Palom and Porom's help. The black mage you met earlier is preparing a soak for you now. He'll fetch you when it's ready." But before Cecil could protest – he really, really didn't have time to waste now, especially to take a bath, of all things, Palom and Porom had already bolted out the door, arguing which one of them got to hold the gil the Elder had covertly slipped Porom for shopping. Without his "aides", he supposed he wasn't going anywhere.

"Elder…" Cecil trailed off once he had heard the tower doors slam shut behind them. Something else was bothering him, though he didn't quite know how to articulate it. "You said that Leviathan was a test that had been ordained for me…that in your dreams, you saw it was my destiny to go to Mount Ordeals. The white mage that brought me to you also said you were expecting me. How…"

"How do I know?" the Elder interrupted, folding his hands. "I don't – not for sure, at any rate. But as a servant to the Crystal of Water, I have been prone to premonitions. They most frequently come to me during my prayers. But sometimes, there are dreams. More often than not, they mean nothing to me – but this one…this was different."

"What did you see?" Cecil asked, but the Elder shook his head immediately.

"If you are wondering if I know whether you'll succeed or fail, I cannot say. I'm afraid I forget most of my dreams as soon as I wake up, and this was no exception. I am only human, after all."

"But…that's normal, isn't it?" Cecil choked out a pained laugh, pressing his hand to his mouth. "I used to forget my dreams when I woke as well. But lately – ever since I abducted the Crystal of Water, it seems – I've had strange dreams where I can remember every detail and nuance. I'm hyper-aware of my every action, and sometimes I fall back into a memory that my mind tries to re-write, and I'll know something is wrong while I am asleep. There are stretches of time I can no longer recall from just these past few days, but yet I can remember the exact timbre of my friend's voice in a dream after an earthquake that nearly killed me." He shook his head, his stomach tightening into a twisted knot. "Is it that the darkness transforming me into something…not human? Is it already too late for me?"

The Elder pressed his lips together, bowing his head in thought.

This young man…there is a deeper pain within than even I could have imagined. He's thrived on the strength borne from his suffering for so long, that he can no longer distinguish light and shadow. He says he's not afraid…but his spirit had been tempered in terror for the entirety of his existence.

"…You must believe me when I tell you that the glimmer of light I saw is very real. Perhaps you are having premonitions of your own – I am not the one to say one way or the other. Rather than transformation, perhaps it's more evolution…an awakening, if you will. All I can offer is that you must have faith that you have been sent here for a reason. If one cannot believe in hope, what reason is there to go on for any of us after tragedy has struck?"

Hope… Cecil closed his eyes, shivering. I do still hold some hope in my heart, don't I? Hope that Rosa is safe…hope that Kain will return to my side…hope that I can somehow remedy the pain my sins have caused all those I love…

Maybe that is the light the Elder sees inside of me...the one thing the darkness has not yet been able to cast out…

"Gimme some of yours, Porom."

"No! I'm not the idiot who demolished my ice cream in one bite," Porom pouted, instantly swinging her legs away on the massive rock she was sharing with her twin brother so that her treat was protected from his grabby hands. "Besides, you were just complaining about a brain freeze!"

"Something you don't have to worry about," Palom huffed, and Porom responded with a snarl and a defiant chomp into her cone.

A pair of canvas sacks stuffed with potions, phoenix downs, remedies, and other odds and ends were slumped between them on the ground, the results of their shopping efforts that afternoon. Even though Porom had been diligent about accounting for all the gil the Elder had given them, it seemed that he had still given them a bit too much for what they could realistically carry with them out east, and Palom had been the one to come up with the brilliant idea of what they should do with the remainder. They had then tucked themselves away at the little pond to the west of the tower, not exactly anxious to return home even though they were off the hook from what would have been four more tedious hours of spell transcription before dinner.

"Maybe we should have brought Cecil some, too," Porom frowned, watching as a drip from her cone splashed on the ground. "He looked as if he could use some cheering up."

"Forget about him," Palom snapped. "You heard same as I from the Elder what his deal was before he showed up here. We've got one job to do, and it ain't cheering him up."

"Erg…" Porom mumbled under her breath, suddenly not very hungry anymore. Yes, of course she hadn't forgotten what the Elder had asked of them – but it didn't mean she liked thinking about it. She shoved the cone toward Palom without comment, closing her eyes as she propped her cheek against her palm.

"Heh, thanks!" Palom grinned, snatching it away before she could change her mind. But when he caught a glance at his twin's solemn twist in her lips, he lowered the ice cream, sighing. "Come on, Porom…it's not as bad as you're making it out to be."

"It's deceit, no matter how you cut it," Porom murmured. "I know the Elder means well, but...two wrongs don't make a right."

"If you don't want to come, you don't have to," Palom frowned. "I can handle things by myself!"

"N-No way," Porom gasped, her eyes snapping open. "Mount Ordeals is dangerous enough as-is – you've heard the tales. To go without a white mage would be a death wish."

"Then stop worrying so much," Palom's smile didn't match the glint in his eyes. "If things get ugly, we know what we have to do."

"I-I know," Porom gulped. "That's what I'm afraid of…"

Six Years Prior

"Cecil!" A thirteen-year-old Rosa flipped the page in the massive book she held in her lap, her legs dangling off of the tall, cushioned window bench that she had insisted taking for her own since it offered the best light in the entirety of the royal library. Cecil peered up from the airship blueprints that he had been pouring over on the floor, blinking through the dust motes that were dancing around Rosa like fireflies in the grasslands at night. She had begged Cecil and Kain to come with her to help pick out baby names for one of her teachers, who had recently announced she was expecting a girl. Rosa's white magic class had derived a contest out of the event, deciding that whoever guessed what the baby's name would be would have her classroom chores picked up by the rest of the class for a full month. And because Rosa was as competitive as she was stubborn, this innocent diversion had now become a full-fledged crash course in etymology. When Kain dryly pointed this out, he was rewarded with a punch in the arm and a disgusted snort.

"I've always been interested in names! Now shut up and help me!"

"Did you find a suitable name?" Cecil asked, releasing the blueprints so that they instantly curled back up into a tidy scroll. Kain had wandered off – Cecil was secretly hoping he was stealing some cookies for them from the parlor. He didn't mind spending a beautiful Sunday afternoon trapped inside a stuffy library with Rosa – in fact, he relished it perhaps a bit too much for a young man that was supposed to be getting serious about his burgeoning career in the military – but a delicious distraction would have been helpful for keeping him awake. If she hadn't had just called his name, he would have been five seconds away from using those same blueprints as a pillow.

"Not quite yet – I'm still torn between Aria and Sarah – both are family names for her and her husband, apparently…but I found the entry for 'Cecil'!"

"Don't keep me in suspense," Cecil smiled slightly, stifling a yawn behind his hand.

"Mmm…well, according to this book, it means 'blind'," Rosa blinked, lifting her head and shrugging in his direction. "Oh well…I guess not every name can have a romantic, flowery backstory like mine."

"Thanks," Cecil groaned. "Why don't you look up 'Kain' while you are in there?"

"Already did!" Rosa chirped. "'Kain' means 'acquired' or 'possession'. That's kind of alluring, don't you think?"

"…I don't ever have 'Kain' and 'alluring' in any cohesive thought that runs through my mind," Cecil raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you should read a proper book instead of those trashy romances I know you steal from your mother."

"Y-You are rude!" Rosa reddened, slamming the name dictionary shut with a deafening "thump" that made another cloud of dust explode over her head.

But Cecil knew she couldn't be too mad at him, because her grin was widening even as she yelled.

"If you think for even a moment that a mournful prayer coming from the likes of you actually means anything to me – then you're even blinder than I thought."

"You are blind to that which is right in front of you – blind to what your heart tells you to be true above all else, and blind to the true danger you find yourself. Unless you lift the veil of darkness from your eyes, no matter how fervently you seek the light, you will forever only find shadows."

Cecil blinked, his heart skipping a beat when he momentarily forgot where he was. He was staring at a pure-white tiled ceiling, the reflection of the bathwater below causing it to shimmer exquisitely like the surface of the ocean at dawn's first light. A wall that consisted of one massive picture window was filling with streaks of piercing gold and brilliant pink as the sun settled into the western horizon – from where Cecil was slumped, he could see nothing but the infinite churn of the ocean's waves, making it look as if the sun was melting into a giant, rose-tinged pool that was being absorbed back into the sea. And beyond that, somewhere impossibly far from him now, were Baron's shores…

I must have fallen asleep again, Cecil thought, rising higher in the bath as he shivered and wrapped his arms around the taut, alabaster flesh that had become exposed to the open air. He had been drifting in and out of slumber nearly as soon as his body had first sunk into the herb and magic-infused water, simultaneously overwhelmed by the pure relief that coursed through his veins and by the day's confusing and heartbreaking events.

The black mage that had escorted him to the bathhouse tucked away on one of the higher levels of the tower had explained to Cecil just what exact healing properties were fused into the imported spring waters of the Mysidian baths that made experiencing one akin to swimming in a giant vat of elixir, but Cecil admittedly had not been paying that much attention. The shock of the outcome of his conversation with the Elder had only started to sink in once he and the black mage had silently drifted through the permanently dimmed, now-empty crystal chamber, and had sent him spiraling into a full-blown panic attack once they had reached the bathhouse. He briefly recalled being shoved into a room to undress and being advised where to go next before being left alone to take care of business, but for the life of him, couldn't remember any of the details between actually getting his clothes off and waking up now.

But this time, he felt more awake than he could remember feeling in days, and the chill of the now-cold water was starting to make staying in the bath much longer an uncomfortable proposition. Holding his breath and closing his eyes, Cecil forced himself to sink below the surface one last time, combing his fingers through his hair to slide it away from his face before popping back up above for air, his breathy gasp gently echoing across the abandoned chambers. A few feet away, he spotted a low bench that had been piled with cotton-woven towels.

A trail of wet footprints followed Cecil's effortless stride as he pulled himself out of the bath, his face flushing at the sight of his sinewy, bruise-mottled, water-streaked, very-much naked reflection in the massive windows, even though he knew no one else could possibly see him. He quickly yanked one of the towels out of the pile, wrapping it around his waist and instantly feeling the heat escape from his cheeks as his modesty was somewhat restored.

As he made his way back to the changing room, hoping he had actually left his clothes there in his stunned-dream state, he passed by a broken mirror that had been shoved into a corner of the chamber, several large shards missing from the bottom as increasingly convoluted cracks spidered out of the gash made in the top left corner. A dozen eyes blinked confusedly at him as he paused, one hand still clasping the towel dipping just below his hipbones.

It might have been subtle to anyone else, yet he had noticed it right away – the pooling sable that seemed to spill over from his dilated pupils, despite all of the light that was pouring into the chamber. Like a soiled paintbrush dipped into water, the dusky sheen stained the cerulean flecks in the center of his eyes an inky black – and when the sunset's rays hit his gaze at just the right angle, he could make out an outline of piercing gold over the cracks the shadows had begun to etch in his stare.

"Kain…" Cecil breathed, his throat clenching as he reached out with his free hand, gingerly brushing his fingertips over one of his many fractured reflections. "It was you. You were the first to notice…I am blind. And now the Elder, too... I knew I was changing – knew that something…unsavory…was growing within me. But I thought I had more time. I thought…"

"Lord Cecil? Are you still in there?"

Cecil winced and withdrew his hand, turning away from the mirror. The voice was muffled – it had to have been someone checking on him from the hallway. He quickly crossed to the dressing room, parting the curtain that acted as the entrance to the baths. He was shocked to find his clothes neatly folded and his armor buffed, although the effort had done much to actually make it shine – Leviathan's attack, and however long Cecil had spent drifting in the ocean's currents, had done irrevocable damage to the protective finish, and veins of rust were now exploding along the chest plate. The Deathbringer was laying across his belongings, otherwise untouched.

"I'm here," Cecil called back, clenching the towel tighter just in case someone took that as an invitation to enter.

For now.

The next morning, Cecil rose with the dawn and kneeled on his bed to part the blackout curtains that had been installed in the room he had been escorted to without ceremony after he had emerged from the bath. The same black mage that had originally assisted him was the one who had also picked him up, and it was evident by the grimace on his face and his monotone as he explained the evening protocol – Cecil would have his meal delivered and was not to wander the tower for the remainder of the evening – that he had officially been assigned the role of Cecil's wrangler until further notice. The black mage's parting words to Cecil when he had cleared away his prisoner's dishes was a throwaway comment about Mount Ordeals being visible from his room on a clear day.

He was right, Cecil thought, narrowing his eyes to account for the sudden spill of sunlight that had assaulted his senses once the curtains had been shoved away. He had studied the Mysidian region in full when he had originally been briefed on his mission to obtain the Crystal of Water, and knew that the tract of land the village sat upon was a long-winding peninsula that eventually spilled into a larger island that was mostly occupied by forest and mountains. Cecil had never paid much care to the solitary peak that rose in the island's center – it hadn't even been marked on the map he had carried for his mission – but there was no doubt that it was the Mount Ordeals everyone here seemed to hold in such high esteem.

The Elder said this is a place from which no man has ever returned…

In the atrium, Palom and Porom were animatedly chatting with the Elder as Cecil descended the stairs, the room falling into a sudden, stony silence as soon as his footsteps were close enough for them to pick up on. The Elder calmly turned to face Cecil, offering a slight nod.

"You look well-rested. I trust everything went all right last evening?"

"It was better than I deserved," Cecil admitted, and Palom snorted.

"You can say that again."

"Palom…" Porom hissed, stomping on his foot. "Watch your tongue – and give Cecil his share of the supplies!"

"Yeah, yeah," Palom pouted, slinging a tiny backpack off his shoulder and tossing it recklessly in Cecil's direction. Cecil dashed forward and scooped it up just before it went crashing into the floor, the jingle of glass vials bouncing against each other assuring him he had made the right choice. Palom puffed out his chest, giggling. "Nice catch! Guess you're not as out of it as I thought."

"Thank you," Cecil sighed, eying the clearly child-sized bag and wondering how the hell he was going to get it on. He finally settled on untying the straps and slinging it around his waist to create a makeshift belt bag to replace the one he had lost at sea.

"Palom, Porom…I trust that you will not fail in this task," the Elder said, patting each of their heads. "Remember to do everything in your power to help Cecil."

"Yes, Elder!" Porom nodded, turning her gaze upon the dark knight. "Are you ready to depart?"

I've been ready since I washed up here, Cecil thought, but merely nodded. No need to take his nerves out on a child, for god's sake.

"I will pray for you all," the Elder bowed, and with that, left them to climb back up the stairs from which Cecil had arrived. Palom and Porom didn't skip a beat, instantly turning on their heels and gesturing for Cecil to follow them out of the tower. Despite the early hour, several townspeople were already starting their days, many of them calling out to the twins and waving eagerly. Every single one of them made it a point to ignore his presence, but he found he was just fine with that after the type of attention he was now used to getting from Mysidians.

"Everyone here seems to know you," Cecil observed aloud as they turned onto the main boulevard that would take them out of the village proper. "Are you the only twins in Mysidia? That must make you stand out in a village as tiny as this."

"Yes!" Porom nodded. "We're one of a kind! Well, I guess in this instance, two of a kind."

"And how old are you?" Cecil hadn't wanted to ask the Elder or even inquire in front of him, for fear that it would look like he was judging his "guides" that he had been generously given the use of.

"Five," Porom and Palom responded in unison.

"Well…all right," Cecil smiled weakly, nearly tripping right there in the street in shock. Five? FIVE!? The Elder has sent a pair of schoolchildren to a place where no man has ever returned…? Palom smirked at Cecil, daring him with his wily eyes to say something – and that was when Cecil realized they were probably used to being underestimated by strangers if their abilities were really as extraordinary as the Elder had implied. Cecil could relate a little – he would certainly never proclaim to be a genius at much of anything, but he was used to being labeled as the orphan who had merely gotten by on his luck and not through any of his own accomplishments – and it never hurt any less each time it happened, even as an adult.

"You're very mature for your age," Cecil offered instead, and Palom's face fell when he realized he wasn't going to get his fight, while his sister broke out into a toothy, proud smile.

Once they left town, Cecil had to rely on the twins to be his guide to the mountain – after digging through his supplies, he realized he had not been given a map. The further away they got from the shoreline and Mysidia, the quicker the level of danger rose. Cecil had been morbidly curious about how he had managed not to get attacked while he had been at his most vulnerable after he had washed up on the beach, but he quickly realized that it was because this region's monsters were keener to hide in the sprawling protection of the forest. Giant black birds named Zuu that preyed on the carcasses of dead monsters had high-hanging nests that would cast massive, circle-shaped shadows on the overgrown road Palom and Porom had stumbled upon, and were, as the party would soon find out, prone to dive-bombing any kind of intruder.

The first time one of them attacked, an ear-piercing screech erupted in the air as a flurry of molting black feathers and dead leaves rained upon them from above. The twins shrieked as they raised their weapons, Porom summoning a Protect spell to shield them as Palom spun around in dizzying circles, trying to track the beast as it launched from its nest. Cecil felt a warning chill run down his spine, and pivoted in one fluid motion, unsheathing the Deathbringer and bringing it down upon the Zuu's scraggly neck as a blast of putrid breath that stunk of decay drowned his senses. The Zuu's flapping, gawking beak attached to its now-disconnected head rolled into a bank of bushes without harm, the rest of its seizing body crashing to the ground and bursting into an explosion of dust before their eyes.

This blade…it really is as powerful as the king of Fabul said, Cecil gasped, his eyes wide as he tilted it toward the failing light filtering through the canopy of leaves above them to inspect the extent of the blood spill. His blow had been so astonishingly swift that nary a drop had beaded upon the hematite. And my own strength – it seems to be keeping steady, just like before all this madness started…! If only I had had this kind of control in Fabul…oh god, would everything have turned out differently?

The regret of what could have been – how there could have been a fool's chance that he could have stopped his friends from suffering Leviathan's wrath, stopped Rosa from being stolen away, and knocked some sense into Kain…it made him feel as if he were drowning on that cursed ship all over again.

The twins were stunned into silence, staring at Cecil with their mouths agape. All of a sudden, it seemed far more feasible that the fading young man they had been introduced to yesterday really was capable of something as onerous as stealing their village's crystal right from under their Elder's nose – and that suddenly made their mission seem a lot scarier.

"I think I'm going to let you take care of those from now on," Palom guffawed nervously, anxious to fill the silence with something. "I can't be doing all the work before we even get to the mountain."

"Um…but…" Porom looked down sheepishly, dragging the end of her staff in the dirt. "Just be careful. The Elder told us it wasn't good for you to use the dark sword…that's why you're going to Mount Ordeals in the first place, right?"

"I'll use caution," Cecil smiled slightly, sheathing the blade as if to punctuate his point. "But if you two are in danger, I'm not going to stand by and watch you come to harm. We're not going to get very far together if that's the case, right?"

He wants to protect us? Porom thought, her throat clenching. Is this a trick?

"J-Just be careful," Porom gulped. "Please…" Cecil's smile faded when he noticed that the poor girl's fingers were trembling, his heart sinking yet deeper under the weight of all of those failures that had led him to this very moment.

She…she's afraid of me. What do I become when I take hold of that sword…?

When they finally made their way through the remainder of the forest path, the island now down several fewer Zuus and their ilk, Porom pointed ahead across a clearing toward the same lone, periwinkle-stained landmass Cecil had spotted from his window earlier that morning. The grass-strewn path that had greeted them upon their exit from the forest was gradually turning rocky and rough underneath their feet.

"That's Mount Ordeals," Porom announced. "Rumor has it that it's full of the undead – spirits and souls of the men who have climbed the mountain for their desired purpose and failed."

"That may not be entirely a rumor," Cecil mused, thinking back to the state of Mount Hobs when he, Rydia, Edward and Rosa had made their way to Fabul. "The people who have attempted to scale the mountain before – were they all trying to become a paladin?"

"Maybe not all of them, but they wanted to seek spiritual redemption or something," Palom shrugged. "But if you have any ill intentions, the mountain knows…and ZAP!" He laughed manically as he cast a Thunder spell that struck inches away from Cecil, making him jump in the air. "Then it's zombie city for you!"

Great, Cecil sighed, silently trying to convince his heart to stop hammering inside of his chest from Palom's little stunt. So, the fiendish twin is the one with black magic – this is going to bode well for the rest of our journey…if I manage to survive it.

"Well, if I do become a zombie, I'm coming after you first," Cecil muttered, side-stepping the smoking pit in the grass where Palom's spell had struck as he continued to make his way toward the mountain's base. "So, I hope you can run fast."

"Porom will just Teleport us," Palom chortled as he scrambled to keep up to Cecil's long strides, and Porom crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head.

"Uh-huh…I will not! You're on your own, brother."

"You traitor!"

Cecil tried to block out their arguing as he hurried forward, lowering his head as a shockingly frigid gale of wind swept over them in the meadowlands. The unmistakable scent of smoke made the back of his throat sting, and when Cecil lifted his gaze, he was startled to see that the closer they got to Mount Ordeals, the murkier the sky surrounding them seemed to grow. A few moments later, another punishing gust collided with the party, and this time even the twins ceased their shouting and hair-pulling as they both paused in place, their noses twitching. Cecil coughed and made haste to cover his face with his arm, just barely making out the trail of smoke that was twisting in the air like a flailing ribbon beneath the haze.

The wind chills to the bone, yet the air is rife with feverish decay – this…cannot be good.

"Is something on fire?" Palom gulped. "It smells nasty! Did one of those dumb survivalists that like to hang out down here forget to put out their campfire or something?"

"Oh dear," Porom paled, running to Cecil and leaping up to grab his arm. "I-I think I know what's going on! We have to hurry to the mountainside!"

"But that's the direction the smoke is coming from," Cecil frowned. "If the meadow is on fire, we need to be running in the opposite way – like right now."

"Just trust me," Porom begged. "If we don't act, we may not be able to climb Mount Ordeals at all."

Something in Cecil's gut told him to hear her out – she was technically his guide, after all – and he allowed himself to be pulled along as Porom snatched his hand and led them head-first into the opaque shroud that was quickly spreading outward from the mountain's base. The incline of their path began to inch ever-higher as the road grew more rigid and grass gave way to gravel, and soon the three of them were greeted by a wildfire raging along a row of rotting and petrified trees that blocked them from climbing any higher.

"I knew it – it looks like the monsters weren't happy today," Porom sighed. Cecil could only stare at her confusedly as she gestured toward a collapsing tree that had succumbed to the hungry flames, waiting for it to crash to the ground before continuing. "I did some research last night. There are documented accounts of the creatures that live here lighting portions of the mountain on fire when they are restless – they all have the ability to cast Fire magic."

"What would have made the monsters restless?" Cecil asked, and Porom shook her head.

"Hard to say." She then turned to Palom, planting her hands on her hips. "Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your hat on!" Palom huffed, pushing his way past Cecil and Porom as he rolled up his sleeves and made a show out of cracking his knuckles above his head. Just as Cecil was about to warn him about getting too close, the boy closed his eyes and cast a Blizzara spell faster than Cecil had ever witnessed in person – and he had watched a lot of magic duels go wrong in the halls of Baron Castle on rum-soaked holiday evenings. A twisting maelstrom of ice crystals and snow erupted out of thin air in front of Palom, who then guided it forward with a twist of his fingers over the growing fire, his brows knitted in concentration as the piercing white of the storm drowned his gaze. Once he thrust his palms downward, dousing the flames in a blanket of snow, the fires died in a chorus of shrieking steam that evaporated away in seconds.

Palom pumped his fist in the air, spinning around and waggling his bottom toward the remains of the decimated trees.

"Ha-ha-ha! Too easy!"

"Palom!" Porom groaned, kicking Palom square in the rear and glowering as he fell forward into a pile of gravel and ash. "The elder taught us not to submit to arrogance!" She turned back to Cecil, blushing. "Please forgive him for his antics."

"Um…yes, all is forgiven," Cecil said quickly, not wanting anymore twin-on-twin violence to break out before they had even made it to the first crossing. It had already become evident that the Elder had been on to something sending these two with him – perhaps he had no way of knowing about the fire, but there would have been no way Cecil would have been able to cross without being burned to a crisp – he needed all the help he could get, and that meant keeping the siblings from killing each other for as long as possible.

Even so… Cecil turned toward the spiraling path before them, his fingers twitching as they hovered precariously over the hilt of the Deathbringer. …Something got these monsters riled up right in time for our arrival…and I can no longer hold faith that such an act is mere coincidence.

Another bone-chilling current enveloped the party, and Cecil couldn't help but notice the brief flicker of fear in Palom and Porom's eyes as they turned to each other, their fingers silently entwining as Porom knelt down to help her brother up.

He somehow knew they were thinking the same as him…

…That they might not be as alone on this dread mountain as they had anticipated.

Meanwhile…

"Scarmiglione! To me, at once!"

A glass door vertically slid open, and Kain sauntered in, a hooded figure hunched over and hobbling behind him with great effort. Nothing could be seen of him beneath his burlap cloak save for glowing crimson eyes and the black, gnarled claws that were clicking on the brightly-polished tiles as made his approach.

Golbez was staring at a floating, watery illusion that was projecting against one of the many milk-white acrylic panels that surrounded them, the image pulsing in and out of focus like a beating heart as glaring azureous lights embedded between each panel faded on and off. With a disgusted laugh, he curled his fingers into a fist, the apparition fading to nothingness just as a familiar cerulean gaze filled the panel, a towering peak fractured by hairline fissures of shadow reflected back in searching, enlarged pupils. He turned as Kain marched up the small flight of steps to the elevated platform he was occupying, immediately resuming his post at the northernmost wall. The hooded visitor, however, continued to slowly shuffle forward until he reached those same steps, stopping at last and bending at the waist into a bow that didn't account for much thanks to his twisted, crippled stature.

"Ever at your ssservice, my lord," Scarmiglione slurred, his eyes flashing as he lifted his head. Golbez crossed his arms, his lips tugging into a crooked smile.

"This…Cecil. I fear we can ignore him no longer. Let us clip his wings, before he flies beyond our reach. The young man is a dark knight – his blade will be all but useless against your legion of the undead – at least for now. He ascends Mount Ordeals even as we speak."

Scarmiglione's eyes narrowed into two bloodied slits.

"He meansss to become a paladin?"

"Yes. And I mean to see that he does not. The manner of his passing, I leave to you."

Scarmiglione chuckled, an unpalatable rattling expelling itself from his fluttering cloak that sounded like dice rolling around in a hollowed-out skull.

"Worry not. It shall be as you wish."

"Then go!" Golbez dismissed Scarmiglione with a tepid wave of his hand, and the figured bowed once more, another chuckle escaping his lips.

"My lord."

With that, he disappeared in a plume of red smoke as Golbez turned back to Kain, who had been waiting boredly for Scarmiglione to finish sucking up, his fingers lightly drumming against his hips. Next to him hung Rosa, who was struggling desperately against her binds, though to no avail. Her hands were dangling helplessly in the air, tied to a metal hook that was secured against the cold, glass-like wall that made her arch her back in shock whenever her skin brushed over it. Hanging above her head and twitching ominously with a warning groan was a guillotine blade that glinted in the harsh, artificial light of the surrounding chamber. Occasionally, the purring grind of metal would erupt in the walls, causing the wire that held the guillotine aloft to sway hard enough that she would catch its narrow shadow gliding over her torn, lace-patterned tights.

"Things have grown interesting, haven't they, Kain?" Golbez sneered. Kain tore his stare away from Rosa, offering Golbez a curt nod.

"Yes, my lord. But you had best not underestimate Cecil's strength."

"I understand your respect for him. He was once your friend. And that is precisely why I sent Scarmiglione instead of you. He is one of my four elemental archfiends, after all – such a match would provide more than ample entertainment." Golbez looked up at their captive, smirking. "Would you not agree, Rosa?"

Rosa hissed between her teeth, her throat crackling as she summoned the breath to tell Golbez what she really thought about his idea of entertainment, but Kain swiftly clamped his hand over her mouth, resulting in a muffled scream as she shook her head back and forth to try to shake him off. Golbez could only watch on with amusement as Kain glared up at him, keeping his fingers pressed to Rosa's lips.

"I should be the one to slay him!"

"As you so skillfully did before?" Golbez shook his head. "No, your place is here, guarding her."

Guarding her from what? You? Cecil will never find this place – and that's even if he lives to see the dawn of another day!

Kain's jaw clenched as he looked away, slowly lowering his hand from Rosa's face – she seemed to have gotten the hint about shutting the hell up. "Yes, my lord."

Golbez dismissed himself with an agitated grunt, summoning a portal and disappearing from sight before he had to be subjected to any more of either Kain's or Rosa's whining. Rosa unleashed an ear-piercing scream as she jerked harder against the hook, ignoring the shooting pains that were now racing up her shoulder blades. Kain spun around to face her, grasping her chin between his fingers.

"Don't be a little fool – he wants to get a rise out of you. If you do anything to warrant his attention, you may end up regretting it. Just keep quiet when he's around, do you understand me?"

"Kain…don't do this!" Rosa gasped, her eyes desperately searching his for something – anything at all – that could assure her that her dearest, oldest friend was still somewhere inside this hollow shell of a man. "Please – we can escape together…we have to find Cecil and warn him…!"

"Cecil?" Kain nearly doubled over in laughter, trailing his fingers along the delicate curve of her jaw to a limp lock of hair that had fallen over her eyes, gingerly twisting it around his finger. "What do you think of your precious Cecil now? You saw same as I – he doesn't really seem to be in a hurry to find you if he's too busy playing with a bunch of kids on a mountain, right?" He laughed again as Rosa jerked away, willing herself with everything she had left not to cry in front of him, even as the tears pooled infinitely behind her eyes.

Cecil… Be careful!

"Cecil…!"

Cecil's head jolted upright, causing both Palom and Porom to flinch in surprise, a cascade of crumbs spilling from their bread-stuffed mouths. He hadn't realized how intensely they had been watching him until that moment and quickly turned away, his face reddening. It was moments like these where he realized he had gotten far too used to his face always being hidden, and didn't actually know what to do when he was expected to emote in front of strangers.

"Sorry…for a moment, I thought I heard someone calling my name."

"Huh?" Porom blinked, finally swallowing her mushy lump of food. They had been climbing for hours, but eerily enough, hadn't come across a single monster or beast – at least, none that were currently alive. There had been plenty of scattered remains – some of them fresh enough that there was no mistaken that they had once been human – but other than the mournful wail of the increasingly biting winds blasting from the cloud-entombed summit, there had certainly been no other voices save for their own. Even the twins' chattering had quieted considerably when it had become apparent to them that Cecil was not in the mood for idle talk.

"It must have been my imagination," Cecil said softly, pulling his knees tighter against his chest. The food Porom had handed to him remained untouched at his side – he hadn't had much of an appetite between the nerves ravaging his stomach and the persistent paranoia that now accompanied every strange voice in his head, every erratic beat of his heart, and every new ache in his body. He had felt such an incredible high back in the forest when he had been able to effortlessly cut down the monsters that had attacked, but one glance at Porom's worried face had been like yanking the plug from a water-logged basin, and all of that abundant energy had drained away from him as easily as it had come.

Both Palom and Porom had now ceased eating and were staring at him as if he had grown a third arm, so he decided a change of subject was in quick order – and what more did little kids love than talking about themselves?

"So, were you two born in Mysidia?"

"Yes," Porom replied, not skipping a beat, for which Cecil was very grateful. "When we were babies, our parents placed us in the care of the Elder. Neither of our parents were mages, so they were pretty ill-prepared when they had magical twins – but everyone said it would give us the best chance of developing to our full potential."

"We see them, once in a while…" Palom mumbled, and for once, Cecil could detect something in his voice that wasn't just boastful anger. "But the grown-ups agreed it was best that we focus on our studies. Our parents moved away shortly after the Elder took us in, and we stayed behind. Mysidia was becoming a town that was more and more exclusive to magic families, so…"

"…I see," Cecil winced. "Do you know where they live now?"

Palom and Porom shook their heads in unison. "No."

They've been all but abandoned, Cecil frowned. No wonder Porom tries to be the perfect, temperate child, and her brother acts out for attention. They act so oddly for such young children because they've been forced to grow up far too quickly – I suppose it was the same for me as well, wasn't it?

He decided to try another path before he said anything else stupid. "What do you know about paladins?"

"Not much," Porom sighed. "I always thought they were fairy tales – legends. They are warriors blessed with the purifying power of light. And supposedly, they can wield magic, too."

"I can't cast a Cure spell to save my own life," Cecil cracked a slight smile. "Hopefully that doesn't mean I'm out of the running quite yet."

But the joke didn't land with either of the twins, who both stared up at him as if to say "Are you really that dense?" Cecil could feel the blood rushing back to his face, and made a show of picking up his bread and suddenly becoming very interested in tearing off just the right amount to shove into his face so that he would just shut up already. How had he gotten it in his head that he was actually any good at comforting anyone, let alone small children?

Scritch. Scritch. Tap. Scritch. Scritch. Tap…

Porom sucked on her lower lip, suddenly smacking the rest of Palom's bread out of his hands just as he was about to take a big bite. He screeched and turned to grab her ponytail, but she slammed her hand over his mouth, hissing. "Did you two hear that?"

Cecil paused, setting his lunch aside as the twins' eyes darted back and forth, though neither dared to turn around. When they had searched for a place to rest, they had ultimately positioned themselves next to a steep slope where Cecil could sit with his back to the mountain wall and keep a watchful eye on the crossing, and the twins had taken their places in front of him. After a few moments, the scratching started up again – but this time, it sounded even closer. And if Cecil wasn't mistaken, the strange sounds were being carried down the slope of the mountain thanks to the unrelenting wind – which meant whatever it was, they were going to be running into it up above sooner or later.

"I want you two to hide against the slope," Cecil ordered, standing up and withdrawing his sword. "Don't come out unless I call for you."

"Cecil…" Porom began, but Palom, being the sensible one for once, grabbed Porom's hand and gladly dragged her over to where Cecil had been sitting. Cecil then crept back to the crossing where the southern road they had taken for the first half of their climb met the new road they had yet to scale that twisted to the northeast. Cecil could see well enough from his elevated height that the southern road was empty – the only sign of life he could make out was the occasional wilted, fleshy, overgrown succulent that would emerge from the deep fissures that tore across their path. To the north, the path eventually ended at the mouth of a cavern they would be forced through if they wanted to continue.

Scritch. Scritch. Tap…

There was something strikingly familiar about all of this, but Cecil could hardly think straight – his heart had started racing nearly as soon as his fingers had brushed over the handle of the Deathbringer, the exhilarating rush of adrenaline taking hold once more.

The sword…it wants me to use it, Cecil frowned, starting up the northern path while Palom and Porom stared after him anxiously. Why…?

"Something odd is in the air…" Palom whispered, and Porom nodded, pressing her hands together worriedly as Cecil disappeared from their sights.

"But it doesn't smell like a monster…does it?"

Leaning flush against the wall to the cave entrance, Cecil waited. The clamor was now so loud that he could tell whatever was causing it was only a few feet away on the other side of the tunnel. The Deathbringer was growing warm in his clutched fingers, and he could hardly keep a steady hold on it as his palms grew slick with sweat and his mind began to drift into a serene, complacent haze – he suddenly felt as if he were rising out of his body, hovering over the cavern entrance to watch the encounter unfold from the safety of the sky.

What…what's wrong with me!?

"Confound it all…now, where did I drop that ether…?"

Cecil blinked, the sword's sway over his senses shattering when the unexpected voice made him flinch and lose his grip. The Deathbringer clattered to the ground as Cecil spun around and came face-to-face with a familiar cloud of white, frizzy hair, a pair of thick purple glass lenses flashing beneath as a billow of clashing pink and purple robes whipped against an oncoming gale that made the cave erupt into a howl akin to that of an injured animal.

"Tellah!" Cecil gasped. "Is that really you?"

"Cecil?" the old man blinked, lowering his glasses and revealing a pair of watery, hazel eyes that were lined with transparent, ghostly crinkled folds. "So, you came seeking Meteor, too."

"Meteor…?" Cecil shook his head, confused. "What's 'Meteor'?"

"You know about Meteor?" Both Cecil and Tellah jumped as Porom's voice burst out behind them, the two men staring in disbelief as she and Palom came skidding to a halt by Cecil's side. "Then you must be –"

"I told you two to stay put!" Cecil groaned. Every damn time…!

"Meteor?" Palom spat, and nearly keeled over laughing. "Old man, there's no way you can handle Meteor! Just give it up and go back to the retirement home, will ya?" Porom shrieked and gave Palom a hard smack in the back of his head with her staff that nearly sent him careening into a stunned Cecil.

"Palom!" she cried. "Did you not hear what Cecil called that man? He said 'Tellah'!"

"Tellah…?" Palom snorted through another fit of laughter, Porom crossing her arms over her chest impatiently as his eyes suddenly glazed over – the wheels had begun to turn in that otherwise empty head of his. He drew in a sharp breath and let out a shriek of his own, turning toward Tellah sheepishly. "Uh…wait. As in Tellah the great sage?"

"Well, that's what I used to be called," Tellah's beard twitched, indicating that he was smiling slightly, and Palom's jaw dropped to the ground. Cecil tilted his head, pressing his hand to his mouth to mask his shock. Tellah was a sage? This was…new information. Cecil knew that a sage was a person who had the exceptional ability to proficiently cast both black and white magic – typically, those blessed with magical powers could only master one or the other in a lifetime. It wasn't atypical for children like Rydia to be able to use both low-level white and black magic spells, but eventually, one talent would take dominance over the other. But Tellah…he hadn't exactly shown expertise in either field, as far as Cecil could tell – the man couldn't even remember a vast majority of his spells. And the title "Sage" was not one that was granted lightly, even if the magical aptitude was there. He didn't know the details, but it seemed only the most legendary of mages, both in ability and deeds, were considered for it.

It seems as though I was not the only one keeping my past a secret…but what's his excuse?

Palom and Porom started whispering excitedly to each other as Tellah turned back to Cecil – he had to admit that seeing the normally stoic and serious young man shaken by the twins' revelation was a little amusing. "So, what are you and your companions doing here, if not to seek out Meteor?"

But before Cecil could answer, Porom immediately jumped in, seemingly falling over herself for another excuse to talk to Tellah. "We've come here at the request of the Elder of Mysidia."

"Yeah!" Palom nodded. "To keep an eye on –"

Porom swung her foot into Palom's shin, her brother letting out a howl that could have woken up the dead – which in a place like this, may not have been the best idea.

What the hell has gotten into her all of a sudden? Cecil blanched.

"Pardon me, I must have slipped," Porom cleared her throat. "As I was saying, we've come to guide Cecil to the top of the mountain. My name is Porom."

"I'm…Palom!" Palom groaned through clenched teeth, and Cecil could tell it was taking everything the boy had not to throw his sister over the side of the cliff – he was actually quite impressed by Palom's restraint. "So, you really are that old wizard! You're famous in Mysidia, you know. Never thought I'd meet you in a place like this!"

"So, you're Mysidian children…I see," Tellah nodded, stroking his beard, trying once again to address Cecil. "And where have Edward and Rydia gone?"

Cecil had been dreading that very question – his gaze drifted toward his feet as he inhaled deeply. "Our ship was attacked by Leviathan as we sailed for Baron. They were…they were lost to the sea, along with a Fabulian monk we had met on Mount Hobs." Palom and Porom snuck horrified glances at each other as Cecil clutched his arm. "I washed up on Mysidia's shores alone."

"So, they're all dead," Tellah shook his head and groaned, massaging his temples with shaking fingers. "I was sorry to have left you, Rydia and Edward the way I did – I was overtaken by rage about what had happened to Anna, and I simply didn't know what else to do. If I had known what I do now…" He shook his head, sighing.

"My god…" Porom whispered in Palom's ear, her eyes watering. "All of Cecil's friends were killed…?"

"Jeeze…" Palom grimaced, turning away to hide his reddening face. Maybe I could have been a little nicer to him…but I…I didn't know!

"Not only that, but Rosa – the girl for whom I was traveling to Damcyan to save – has now fallen into Golbez's hands," Cecil added morosely.

"That must be his girlfriend!" Palom tittered quietly, trying to shake off the overwhelming shroud of guilt that had wrapped itself around his bony shoulders. Porom rolled her eyes, shoving her finger against his lips.

"Hush, for the love of the gods!"

Tellah grunted as he crossed his arms, and Cecil peered up at him curiously. "Weren't you planning to go after Golbez after you left Damcyan?"

"Yes, but I've come to realize that my magic is no match for a man of his strength. I've been searching for the legendary magic of Meteor – it's the only spell that could possibly end a demon like him. It has long lain sealed away, and I know not where – the only evidence that it even exists is in the legends of old. But I feel a powerful aura radiating from this place – the entire Mysidian continent is stepped in ancient magic the likes of which man may never fully comprehend. I believe the spell I seek may well rest within this mountain."

Porom clutched her hands to her chest. "But that spell is dangerous! If a man of your age were to cast it –" Tellah spun around to face her, his lips disappearing into thin line.

"Young lady, I am well aware of my age, and of the dangers! But what you must understand is that I would gladly lay aside my own life, if it meant the end of his. I will defeat Golbez!"

"Hmph!" Palom shrugged. "Grownups… Always have to be so pigheaded!"

Porom snorted. "Well, you're certainly not in danger of growing up any time soon, so why don't you just keep quiet?"

"You're the one who just told him he was too old to use the spell! Maybe you should keep your nose out of other people's business too!"

Tellah and Cecil shot each other a shared, tired look as the twins' argument began to escalate, the two of them lost in their own little world. Tellah tilted his head. "Why have you come here, Cecil? What is the Elder of Mysidia's request that you are striving to fulfill with the aid of these children?"

"I'm here to become a paladin," Cecil eyed his abandoned sword on the ground and bent down to fetch it, hurriedly sheathing it before anything else bizarre could happen to him – if Tellah's voice hadn't shaken him awake, what might he have done? What if Palom and Porom had joined him just a few moments earlier as he had felt his control slipping away…? It sent a shudder tearing through him just thinking about the grim possibilities.

Tellah's mouth twitched – Cecil could tell he was taken aback by his answer. "A paladin, you say? For what purpose?"

"A dark sword cannot slay Golbez, and I've no love of the loathsome thing as it is – I'll be glad to be rid of it. I once swore a blood oath to the King of Baron that I would serve as dark knight of the realm forevermore, but the unspeakable horrors he has inflicted upon the world, with both Golbez's and my help…I can no longer stand by and play the role of executioner in his perversion of justice."

Tellah nodded – the pieces were falling into place now. "Ah…I suspected you might have hailed from Baron when we met, but it seemed to be no matter at the time – we had both shared the same goal, after all. And having learned more about the state of Mist after I escaped from Damcyan…I came to realize you were keeping your silence for Rydia's sake. So, the rumors were true – Baron was behind Mist's destruction, and not that earthquake."

Cecil's voice cracked as his lips parted to apologize, but Tellah held up his hand, shaking his head. "As I just said, where you were from didn't matter then, and as far as I'm concerned, it is no matter now. You've been nothing but a friend to me, Cecil – you and Golbez may have once served the same king, but that's where your similarities end."

"Thank you…" Cecil murmured, bowing his head. Tellah…if only that were true…! If you had seen the depthless darkness Golbez held sway over in Fabul, I wonder if you would still feel that we were really so different?

"Wait, who's Golbez?" Palom bleated, and Porom threw her hands in the air, hissing between her teeth.

"You really don't know anything, do you? He's the one manipulating Baron!"

"Yes, the root of all this foul madness!" Tellah nodded. "Hmmm, here to become a paladin… It seems my hunch was not mistaken – there is more to this mountain than appearances betray. Why don't we continue on together?"

It would seem there is no bad blood between Tellah and I from the incident in Damcyan, Cecil sighed in relief. I am grateful for small miracles…

But I do worry…if what the twins say about Meteor is correct…should I really be helping him find it?

But of course, neither of the twins were going to object to Sage Tellah accompanying them – the chance encounter with a Mysidian hero was a dream come true. As for Cecil – despite his burgeoning fear that Tellah had hardly come to his senses and had merely traded one dangerous task for another – it was truly a salve to his deteriorating spirits to reunite with a familiar face, especially one that didn't hate him for everything he already hated about himself – unlike a certain dragoon.

As they climbed higher toward an ever-darkening sky and the shining silver of the looming summit, Cecil caught Tellah up on all that had happened between Damcyan and his unforeseen landing in Mysidia, including the theft of the Crystal of Wind. Palom and Porom were trying their hardest to not make it so obvious that they were eavesdropping on Cecil's every word, but subtlety was not either twin's strength, particularly when they kept trying to creep closer and closer to hear more and would end up crashing into Cecil's legs. All Cecil could do was shake his head and pretend for the sake of peace that he wasn't on to them. It wasn't as if he were intentionally hiding anything, but he did feel a little guilty sharing such violent tales in the presence of little ears – even if they were attached to abnormally perceptive little people.

"And now all that remains is the Crystal of Earth…" Tellah sighed. "There is no easy way to reach Troia, if I am remembering correctly."

"An airship is our only hope," Cecil lamented. "But the truth is, the final crystal has been far from my mind…"

"Of course," Tellah said quickly. "If we are being honest, I should say the same."

"Now what are they going on about?" Palom grunted under his breath. "Girls? Boring."

I have to agree. Porom crossed her arms, peering at the last crossing they had to take before they would officially be elevated to the series of rather brittle-looking rope bridges that would take them across the staggering gap to the final peak. The sky had grown so harshly overcast that it was as if they were trying to navigate during a moonless midnight – yet on the very far ledge of the summit, Porom swore she could make out an ethereal, hazy glow clinging to an altar of immaculate white. When she turned back to Cecil, she saw that he had noticed it as well – his eyes had transformed into translucent shards of crystal, and an empyrean aura had settled into his features that flooded her chest with a warm, floaty sensation that almost made her feel strangely…nostalgic. Tellah was going on about something, but Cecil didn't seem to be comprehending a word.

What…is this? Porom gulped, folding her hands against her chest. Why does looking at Cecil suddenly make me feel so sad…like I'm homesick?

"Hiiiiisssss."

Porom winced as a gust of wind struck her face, her eyes stinging as the pungent musk of rotting meat filled her mouth. She spun around to punch her brother in the arm while she scraped the surface of her tongue with her upper teeth in an effort to wash the nasty taste away. "Palom, stop making such rude noises!"

Palom pouted as he tore his gaze away from the rock he had been concentrating on kicking every few feet ahead of them. With an inadvertent swipe of his foot, the rock suddenly flew over the ledge of the cliffside, disappearing from sight as he glared up at Porom. "It wasn't me!"

"Those two are certainly are full of vigor," Tellah commented. Cecil finally snapped out of his trance when they hit the first bridge, his heart leaping into his throat as his foot suddenly slid precariously beneath his weight on the unstable, nearly-rotten board.

"W-whoa," he gasped, grabbing hold of the nearest post. "With the way the wind is picking up, maybe we should only go one at a time."

"It wasn't supposed to storm today, was it?" Palom whined. "Porom, cast Float on everyone so we don't have to worry about falling to our death."

"Oh, good idea," Porom nodded, retrieving her staff from the holster on her backpack. Her eyes suddenly ignited when she remembered who was standing only feet away from her, and smiled up at Tellah, pointing at him eagerly with the head of her staff. "On second thought, let us have Sage Tellah cast the spell! It will be far more powerful than mine – I'd like to observe your technique, sir!"

"Float, eh?" Tellah tilted his head as he stroked his beard. "Float…Float…now how did that one go again?"

"…Huh?" Porom blinked, her smile faltering. "What do you mean?"

"HIIIIISSSSS…"

She raised her fist as she muttered between clenched teeth. "Palom! I told you to stop that!"

"I'm not doing anything!" Palom protested.

What is this feeling coming over me? Cecil shivered, the bridge suddenly twisting bizarrely beneath his feet as the surrounding mountain began to spin dizzily around him. The shining altar that was only a sprint away became engulfed in a film of murk, and the smell of something both stomach-turningly putrescent and strikingly sweet invaded his lungs, causing his breath to seize in his throat. Against his thigh, he could feel the Deathbringer seething inside its scabbard, and the hollow, mocking voice that had enthralled him in Fabul echoed once more in the unseen chambers of his heart.

He smells death on you…it is you who lured him here…!

"Palom speaks the truth!" Tellah gasped, silencing them both as he grasped one twin in each hand and dragged them away from the bridge and Cecil. "An evil presence is drawing near!" Cecil's legs failed to obey his mind's screams to escape, the darkness warping into a contorted spiral in the center of the bridge and expelling from within the form of a hunched-over creature in filthy, tattered robes. Mummified claws dragged across the wooden planks as the monster drew closer, two flashing red eyes buried within its hood narrowing into razor-thin slits, the rest of its face shrouded in shadow. The spell of paralysis that had taken hold of Cecil shattered when another scourge of syrupy, putrid breath assaulted his senses, sending him stumbling backwards to blessedly solid land. The creature paused at the end of the bridge, tilting its head at a sickening ninety-degree angle that was simply not possible for someone with a properly functioning spinal cord.

"Such pleasure I will take in delivering you four to the gatesss of hell!"

"Who are you?" Cecil demanded, waving the rot away from his stinging eyes.

"I am the oarsman who will ferry you beyond the veil. The Blighted Despot, Scarmiglione – archfiend of earth, and first of Golbez's circle of four!"

A-Archfiends…? Cecil shook his head in disbelief. Golbez has minions that serve him even outside of Baron?

"Golbez, eh?" Tellah growled, brandishing his staff as he stepped ahead of a stunned Palom and Porom. "Too cowardly to show himself in this sacred place, so he had to send his pet? And where are the rest of your fellow archfiends – or did you draw the short straw?"

Scarmiglione gargled out a half-laugh, dragging himself closer and waving his hand, revealing that half of his fingers were only hanging on by strings of fraying ligament. "You need not concern yourself with them – they've other duties to attend to on behalf of our master. But how amusing of you to assume I am alone – for all of my undead children hunger to feassst upon your flesh!"

"Cecil, HELP!" Porom suddenly shrieked. Cecil whirled around and saw that an army of braying, staggering figures clad in fraying clothes and rusted-through armor had appeared behind them, clambering up the mountain path and trapping them in a pincer attack. Their skulls had thin patches of wan and rancid green flesh stretched upon them like the strained rubber on an overfilled balloon, two gaping sockets beneath their oozing foreheads where eyes had once been. Their cavernous, depthless maws were creaking as they wordlessly slid open and shut, maggot-invested hands outstretched toward the twins as they made their descent.

"Z-Z-Zombies!" Palom gulped, ducking just in time as one of the monsters lunged forward to grab him. His arms grasping nothing but empty air, the zombie ended up splayed across the ground at Tellah's feet, twitching and moaning.

"Do not fear, children! We must use fire and curative spells against the undead!" Tellah lectured. "Watch!" He cast a Cura spell that swirled around the fallen zombie in a vortex of glittering green light, and moments later it unleashed a final shriek and burst into a cloud of dust. The light seemed to snap on in Palom's eyes thanks to Tellah's encouragement, and he immediately thrust his rod forward, lighting another pair of zombies on aflame with a Fira spell. As much as it pained him to do so, Cecil turned back to Scarmiglione, reaching for the Deathbringer. He had to take advantage of Tellah's and the twins' attacks for cover, or else…

It's your fault they're in danger… The voice inside him hissed. You'll get Tellah and the kids killed – just like you killed Rydia, Edward and Yang!

"Argh, shut up!" Cecil screamed into the wind, gritting his teeth as he withdrew his sword and brought it down upon Scarmiglione with a swiftness of which he had thought he was no longer capable. Scarmiglione rose on his haunches and tried to defend himself with his hands, but the Deathbringer sliced through them as easily as butter and the rotting appendages flopped onto the ground, yellow pus spraying from the wounds beneath his billowing sleeves.

"AHHH…Ugh!" Scarmiglione hissed. "My beautiful handsss! You will pay for that with your life!" Before Cecil could strike the finishing blow, the two severed appendages sprung from the ground like giant leaping spiders, wrapping themselves around Cecil's neck and forcing him to his knees as he howled, letting the Deathbringer drop from his grip so that he could try to pry away the phantom fingers. The backpack he had haphazardly tied around his waist crashed to the ground, the sound of shattering glass piercing the air as he desperately gasped for breath against the increasing pressure on his windpipe. Behind him, he could hear Tellah and the twins still had their hands full with the undead army – they probably hadn't even heard him scream over the zombies' wails and the bluster of Palom's flames decimating the mountainside.

He called himself an elemental archfiend…there must be some sort of weakness I can exploit…! Cecil tried to blink away the stars that were exploding in his eyes as he slumped further to the ground, his left hand blindly canvasing the now soaking-wet bag of supplies that had been ruined while his right feebly tried to fight off Scarmiglione. All the while, the detached despot laughed madly as he rose to his full height over Cecil, draping the knight in a blanket of decaying shadow. Cecil felt a shiver run down his spine as the hand on his throat jabbed its bony thumb into his larynx. If only I had magic of my own…

Suddenly, he felt his fingers brush over the only glass that had not yet shattered. His eyes watered as he made out a slender green bottle that looked exactly like the bottle of poison the barkeep had offered him in Mysidia.

A hi-potion…? Scarmiglione rules the undead. Does that mean he is also…? Before Cecil could let the doubt of what he was about to attempt creep too deeply into his quickly-declining conscious, he pressed his palm to the Deathbringer's curved edge that was now crackling with erratic violet light, praying that the jolt of darkness into his bloodstream would give him the boost he needed. He felt a line of fire race up his spine, and before he could even blink, he had bounced back to his feet, rearing back with his left hand and smashing the hi-potion over Scarmiglione's head. As the quicksilver liquid seeped into his hood, Scarmiglione unleashed an agonized shriek, his dismembered hands releasing themselves from the red imprints branded upon Cecil's neck and crumbling to dust before they could even hit the ground.

"AHHH! NOOOOO!" Scarmiglione grimaced, flailing about as he tried to shrug out of his off his stained cloak that was absorbing the remainder of the bottle's contents and causing whatever was beneath to erupt into a smoky mess of burning flesh and shattered glass. Cecil could see the fiend's eyes flashing in raw fear as he pivoted on his heel and smashed his foot into Scarmiglione's chest, sending him into a somersault over the railing of the bridge. With a final, fading scream, Scarmiglione plummeted through the soupy darkness below, disappearing from sight within moments.

Cecil could only bring himself to sigh in relief as he sank against one of the posts, burying his throbbing head in his arms. In the distance, he heard Porom call "Cura!" Moments later, the warm green light of her spell washed over him, slowly infusing his lungs with fresh, healing oxygen and dancing over his battered throat like a soothing balm.

"Are you ok, Cecil?" Tellah asked as he, Palom and Porom rushed to his side.

"When Scarmiglione bit the dust, the rest of his army went as well!" Palom exclaimed. "…But I could have handled them all by myself, just so you know."

Well, obviously Palom is doing just fine, Cecil thought, smiling slightly as he lifted his head. "I'm all right now, thanks."

"I thought it was odd that we hadn't seen any monsters on the mountain after that awful fire had been started," Porom frowned as she glanced over her shoulder. "But I suppose now we know why. Scarmiglione didn't want us picking them off one by one as we climbed – he called upon them to ambush us on purpose!" She lowered her head, smiling sadly. "There is no doubt…I need further training. That was nothing like reciting a spell in a classroom."

Tellah patted her on the shoulder, beaming. "My dear girl, it is one thing to know a spell, but quite another to know the right time to use it, and under immense pressure, no less! But that is something that simply comes with experience and time. You two did a fine job!"

"Really?" Porom squeaked, and Palom's eyes filled with glimmering stars that almost made him look like a regular kid.

"Yes, thank you everyone," Cecil smiled. "I couldn't have done this without you."

"Then let us head to the altar!" she said excitedly, pointing to the elusive ivory panel that was drifting in and out of their sight thanks to the decay-ridden darkness in the air that still had not cleared even after Scarmiglione's hasty exit. "I know Scarmiglione was sent by Golbez, but he must have been Mount Ordeal's trial for us – why else would he be guarding this place?"

She has a point… Cecil frowned, his fingers twitching as he quickly grabbed the Deathbringer and sheathed it. How would Golbez know about such a place? How did he know we were here to begin with? Suddenly, a tremendous clap of thunder boomed from above, and with no further warning, rain began to pour down upon them in harried sheets. The twins squealed and covered their heads with their capes as they bolted across the bridge, already forgetting their idea earlier to cast Float as a precaution. Cecil and Tellah fell behind them single-file as they followed, not wanting to strain the bridge any further. The storm-ridden skies above were tinged with a strange yellow film that reminded Cecil of the blossoming bruises all over his body in the Tower of Prayer.

"There's something not right about this storm," Cecil muttered, and Tellah nodded, wiping the fog from his glasses.

"Yes, I feel it too…"

Suddenly, they felt an immense weight pulling down on the other end of the bridge behind them, but when they turned, nothing was there. Another bolt of lightning splintered across the sky, striking a towering, rotten tree across the way that had managed to escape Palom's magic. The tree ignited into a pillar of flames, the explosion loud enough to catch the twins' attention and causing them to freeze in place before the altar. Cecil and Tellah turned back to the children, shouting for them to stay put.

"Impressssive... But my true ssstrength lies in death! And now, you shall join me in it!"

"What was that?" Palom gulped.

"Look out!" Porom screamed, the whites of her eyes the only unyielding light in the thickening darkness that was swallowing the altar whole.

An immense arm knotted with twisting muscle swung out and struck both Cecil and Tellah from behind, knocking them off their feet. The bridge rattled harder beneath their fallen bodies as Cecil struggled to lift his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he could make out a hulking, fur-covered demon stalking them, its invisibility spell wearing off in dissolving patches and revealing a half-rotting skull for a face. Its lower jaw was completely comprised of long, dripping fangs, and two towering ivory horns curled out from the monster's shoulder blades all the way around to the front of its chest. Each of its hands and feet were as big as Cecil's head, with blackened, blood-stained, overgrown fingernails and toenails curled up at the end of each appendage. The overpowering scent of decay filled the air once more, and as another flash of lightning illuminated the sky, Cecil could make out a trail of newly-risen pink, burned flesh splashed across the creature's chest, shards of broken green glass plastered in the swell.

"Scarmiglione!" Cecil glowered. "Missed us already?"

"Those who see this face mussst die!" Scarmiglione hissed, acid-tinged spittle spraying with each word and burning tiny holes in the already-compromised bridge. "I'll sssmite your ruin upon the mountainside!"

"Tellah, protect the twins!" Cecil growled, pulling himself up and immediately diving forward, plunging the Deathbringer into Scarmiglione's chest. A flickering jaundice ignited in Scarmiglione's eye sockets, boring into Cecil's strained crystalline stare as he clenched his jaw and drove the blade in deeper. But as oil-like blood began to gush out of the wound, Scarmiglione could only laugh, clasping his behemoth claws over Cecil's hands and helping him by pressing down on the Deathbringer so violently that the hilt breeched his chest. Cecil's eyes widened in shock, all of his unasked questions dying on his lips as a painful tremor suddenly ripped through his body, his vision exploding in white as violet light ignited in his veins, the blood rushing to his paralyzed hands still clutching the Deathbringer's handle. Scarmiglione's jagged nails were piercing his flesh, and Cecil could feel beads of blood dripping down his fingers as the lacerations burst open, diluting beneath the rain that was relentlessly pounding from above.

"Your dark blade meansss nothing to I, the essence of true death!" Scarmiglione seethed, the venom from his fangs spraying Cecil's face as the knight slumped forward. "I'll harvest the darkness inside of you for myself, and offer your empty husk to Master Golbez as a trophy!"

"Ugh…!" Cecil gasped, his eyes rolling in the back of his head. Any semblance of control he had over his body was failing as his energy was siphoned away through the pulsing blade. A cold, seeping numbness was dripping from his chest into his stomach, each subsequent, straining beat of his heart growing softer and softer.

I can't move…even just breathing makes my heart feel like it's about to explode…!

Tellah…Teleport with the twins and run away, before I lose all control…!

"Fire!"

A spiral of flame smashed Scarmiglione in the face and sent him reeling, his claws retracting from their grip on Cecil. Scarmiglione glared at the interloper, Tellah, who had escaped to the other side of the bridge and was preparing a follow-up attack. Snarling, Scarmiglione hoisted the limp Cecil up by his chest and tossed him away effortlessly, sending him careening into Tellah. The two men crashed into the ivory altar where the twins had been hiding, Tellah's staff flying near the summit's ledge and Cecil collapsing at the altar's base. He could feel the poison that had been injected under his palms taking hold of the last of his seizing tendons, finishing off what the Deathbringer's drain had started. Palom and Porom screeched in unison, looking at each other while Scarmiglione chortled and leapt forward on all fours to close the distance between them.

"We've got to try it…" Porom gulped, and Palom nodded, his fingers interlacing with hers.

"Yeah…it's our last chance…"

Cecil watched in muted horror as the twins closed their eyes, starting to glow an ominous red as their mutterings in a foreign tongue grew louder and louder. Scarmiglione lumbered off of the bridge and propelled himself forward with another jump, now just feet away from the twins with the Deathbringer still sticking out of his chest.

"What are they doing?" Cecil rasped. He struggled to lift himself off the ground, but it was a totally worthless effort – he could hardly summon the strength to keep his eyes open, let alone throw himself in front of the twins. "Palom, Porom, get out of here!"

"They can't hear us any longer," Tellah wheezed from somewhere behind him – he could barely make out the man's voice in the roar of the rain. "They are in the throes of a powerful incantation!"

Is this really the end? Cecil wanted to scream. How many more of my allies do I have to watch die because of my incompetence? The Elder warned me not to lean upon the dark sword…but what else could I have done to protect them!?

Scarmiglione ripped the Deathbringer from his chest, raising it over the twins' heads with a final burst of gurgling laughter. Palom and Porom's eyes snapped open, their palms jutting forward as their eyes shone with a dangerous, scintillating ember that rivaled the mountainside fires in their intensity.

"Pyroblast!"

There came a series of rapid-fire popping noises that made Cecil inwardly cringe – each one sounded exactly the same as the time Kain's shoulder had dislocated in a sparring session Cecil had been observing from the veranda, and it had been heard from across the entirety of the courtyard. Scarmiglione paused mid-step, tilting his head confusedly and hissing. The popping escalated in frequency and volume, and the fiend suddenly gasped and clutched at his abdomen with the Deathbringer still locked in his grip, falling backwards with a terrific crash that shook the mountainside. Rocking back and forth on his ivory horns, bubbling spurts of liquid fire began to burst from his stomach, launching into the air like a volcano. More glowing cracks spread across his body until his entire form was covered in pulsating, boil-like flares.

Porom followed-up the attack with a Protect spell that wrapped the party in transparent yellow ribbons that formed a shield and slowly faded into the ether. Scarmiglione's screams were deafening, and the popping blurred into a steady, churning hum until his entire body exploded in a column of flame. Tiny flecks of fur and bone flew into the air, absorbing harmlessly into Porom's spell. When it was all over, all that remained where Scarmiglione had been standing was a smoking black pit – even the Deathbringer had disappeared.

"We did it!" Palom cheered, jumping up and down with a mile-wide grin. With a low groan, Cecil fully slumped to the ground, finally letting his eyes slide shut. He could hear Porom shouting a series of Cura and Esuna spells, but even as the mollifying magic sank into his form and the poison was neutralized in his veins, he found that he wasn't quite ready enough to join the real world yet.

Scarmiglione may have been finished for good now, but it didn't undo the damage the Deathbringer had done when the fiend had turned Cecil's own power against him. More so than the pain of his decimated body was the strange, hollow sensation he could feel in his chest with every intake of breath – like his very soul had been shredded to ribbons by razor blades – and not even the most powerful of white magic healing spells could restore that.

"Cecil?" He could hear the quiver in Palom's voice as the boy's delicate footfalls made their approach. "Are you OK?"

"I will be," Cecil lied, not looking up. "Just give me a moment."

"What in the world was that spell you two cast?" Tellah gasped, finally able to lift himself from where he had smashed into the altar thanks to Porom's healing spells. "That's some of the most powerful magic I've ever witnessed."

Happy to have an opportunity to brag, Palom tore his gaze away from Cecil and flashed a peace sign. "It's a special kind of magic that Porom and I have been working on together. We call it Twincasting!"

"We've never gotten to try it out on a real enemy until now," Porom added. "How invigorating!"

"You were amazing," Cecil mumbled, though he did so with a smile they could not see. The truth was, he too had never seen magic so powerful, and he had been in far more battles than his three companions combined. He realized that even with the children's odd quirks, the Elder really had entrusted him with the very best guides that Mysidia had to offer, and he felt humbled by it.

"But enough about us," Porom said, kneeling down and grabbing Cecil's hand. "You've gotta get up, Cecil – I'm getting a weird feeling from this place. Don't you want to investigate?"

"Y-Yes," Cecil nodded, clenching his jaw as he allowed Porom to "help" him up stand. Once he wasn't swaying on his own two feet, he swallowed, suddenly realizing he was very nervous – he was ashamed to admit out that Palom's joke about the unworthy being turned into a zombie was now hitting a little closer to home than he would have liked – the Deathbringer had quite nearly taken care of that for him.

Scarmiglione had tossed him to the bottom of a short flight of four steps, each a pristine swirl of white marble that led to an ivory tablet that towered over the four of them. Cecil didn't notice that the four crystals surrounding the altar had begun to glow faintly as soon as his foot connected with the first step, igniting his eyes with a pale sheen not unlike moonlight.

This seems more like a memorial or a shrine, Cecil thought, kneeling down to try to make out the inscription carved into the stone. But the words were totally illegible – had they not been so weather-worn, he still suspected based on the curves of the characters he could trace that it was an entirely foreign language of which he had no knowledge. He reached up, suddenly feeling an odd impulse to brush away the accumulated filth that had resulted from their battle with Scarmiglione – a flood of guilt was swirling in his stomach for disrespecting, however inadvertently, what might have been someone's final resting place. As his fingers brushed over the soothing cool of the stone, he heard a soft voice whisper in his ear – but this time, the mysterious voice was the antithesis of the hateful glower that had been haunting him ever since he had turned traitor to his homeland. Where percolating rage had frozen the very blood in his veins, wistful anguish instead ushered a surge of unbidden tears to his eyes. Gone was the sting of the relentless hatred in each clipped syllable, replaced by a soothing lilt of a breathless devotion.

W-What…? Cecil closed his eyes, pressing his palms and his forehead to the blessedly chilled memorial, the rain trailing down the curve of his neck as his hair fell over his shoulders. Who's there…? Tellah and the twins' confused chatter fell away as if someone had cast a Silence spell upon the summit, and for a brief moment, Cecil felt as if he were being embraced by an ethereal shroud, a fluttering heartbeat bursting to life inside his hollow chest.

"My son…at last, you have arrived."