Final Fantasy IV: The Novel

by Celes Chere

Based on the storylines of Final Fantasy IV DS & FFIV: The After Years, this is the story of Cecil Harvey, a dark knight whose journey for redemption draws himself, his best friend Kain and his lover Rosa into a dangerous battle for their planet.

9. Act Nine: The Drowned King

Act Nine: The Drowned King

Cecil stood in front of the wrought-iron gate and drew a deep breath, the latch rattling beneath his hand as he slowly pushed it open. The sticky hinges unleashed a shrill screech that he couldn't help but take as a final warning to turn around and make his escape, the sound scaring off a flock of mourning doves holding court from the pin oak over the front garden a few feet away.

They've got the right idea, Cecil thought, watching the last of the birds disappear over the violet-streaked horizon. It had crossed his mind several times since he had woken up that this could very well end up being his last act in his short-lived career as a paladin…he wondered if he should have left a note with the others back at the inn that was longer than two quickly-scribbled sentences so that they would have something more substantial to eulogize him with at his non-state sanctioned funeral.

He crossed the flagstone walk behind the gate and all too soon found himself standing in front of the doorway to Joanna Farrell's house. Despite the early hour, smoke was already billowing from the chimney overhead. At any moment, Joanna would appear in the threshold to retrieve her newly-filled milk bottles from the stoop and find Cecil gawking like a simpleton, but even so, he couldn't quite convince his raised fist to make contact with the weathered mahogany door.

When was the last time I was here? Cecil's gaze drifted toward the eastern window that was protected by an overgrown hydrangea bush, sprigs of flowers the color of cotton candy rustling beneath a gathering of bumblebees. With Joanna's lack of approval of his relationship with Rosa – any type of relationship, mind you – Cecil had tried to remain scarce when it came to the Farrell property, although if Kain were around, it usually made visits much more pleasant. Joanna wasn't shy about her affection for Kain – coming from an exceptional bloodline and a regal legacy like the Dragoons was more than enough to prove his worth as a figure in her only daughter's life – and she seemed to enjoy pointing out to Cecil in as subtle a manner as possible that neither of those accomplishments were anything he could ever claim for himself. Cecil's latest memory of Joanna fawning over Kain reminded him of what had been his final visit to this house before everything had gone so horribly wrong.

It was Kain's twenty-first birthday.

That had only been a few months ago – Kain's birthday fell on the spring equinox, and he had wanted to celebrate with Cecil and Rosa by taking part in Baron's many festivities that were held in honor of the arrival of the new season. Rosa's mother had spotted them at one of the food stalls, and had cajoled Kain into coming over for tea... But now, there was no Kain or Rosa to shield him from Joanna's wrath. Cecil still wasn't quite sure how he was going to explain that not only had he let Rosa stay with him after rescuing her instead of escorting her home, but had then proceeded to let her fall into the hands one of the most dangerous men on the planet. But Amelia's letting it slip that Joanna had been worrying herself sick over Rosa's disappearance had permeated his nightmares once he had dragged himself away from those nostalgic moons and forced himself to sleep.

Cecil brought his fist forward with one awkward, loud knock. A few seconds later the door swung open, and Joanna was standing before him, her chocolate eyes instantly narrowing to slits when she took in her visitor. She was dressed in a deceptively simple purple silk dress that Cecil knew had cost more than what he made in a month, with an apron tied around front smudged with whatever she had been crafting for breakfast. Her golden blonde hair, the same rich shade as Rosa's, was pooling around her shoulders in lazy curls, half-pinned above her ears with lavender pearl barrettes. Pockets of deep pink lined her glare, and her pale red mouth, which had always been thinner and sterner than her daughter's, had disappeared into a thin line.

If Cecil didn't know any better, he would have easily mistaken Joanna for any average village widow – but he knew from years of cautious, quiet observation that it was the subtleties in the way she glided through her days that kept her elevated, noble status simmering just at the surface, and not the obvious trappings of former wealth that were tucked away in her home or on her person in the form of a jewel-encrusted trinket or a bespoke gown. Her delicate, fae-esque chin was lifted at just precise enough an angle to make Cecil feel like she was looking down upon him, even though she was even shorter than Rosa. The curve of her bone-white finger draped over her forearm was twitching with the overflowing disdain that Cecil was sure had been building steadily within for the past week with no noblesse-approved means of release.

The popping vein Cecil spied beneath Joanna's bangs was how he knew she had immediately recognized him, which both amazed and terrified him.

"Joanna," Cecil lowered his eyes, sinking into a bow.

"Cecil," Joanna said coolly. "I somehow knew that you hadn't been killed. And what of Kain?" Her eyes darted over his shoulder, dimming with disappointment when she realized no one else had accompanied him.

"He is alive as well," Cecil muttered. "Although…currently occupied."

She snorted under her breath, a blur of white flashing before his eyes before an explosion of pain ignited across his face, his head snapping back. It took a few jarring moments of bells peeling in his skull before it registered with him that Joanna had just nearly smacked the skin right off his face.

"Rosa ran after you!" she hissed. He noticed that she was happy to omit Kain's name from the narrative now – in her eyes, Rosa had only been foolish enough to chase after Cecil, not the two of them. "Where is she!?"

"She's not…she's not with me," Cecil started, his cheek throbbing with each strained word.

"Where is she!?" Joanna demanded again, grabbing Cecil by his cloak and yanking him so close that he nearly ran into the doorframe. "I know you aren't stupid enough to think she'd be here waiting for you!"

"She's…I don't know!" Cecil sighed. "But I…I think she is safe. I came here to tell you that I'm going to find her, no matter what."

"You think she's safe?" Joanna gasped. "Is she alone?"

"No…" Cecil hesitated. "…Kain is with her." And Golbez.

"Well thank the gods for that," Joanna simpered, shaking her head. "She'll be safe anywhere as long as Kain is there, too." Her words had the same effect as a bucket of ice water pouring down Cecil's spine – it took everything he had to not scream that Kain was the last person in the world who he'd want watching over Rosa – not anymore.

Oh gods…what is wrong with me? To even think something like that about my best friend…

His silence was enough to convince Joanna that he agreed with her, and she plowed on without taking a breath, promptly driving the next knife into his back. "You don't have to say any more – those two are mixed up in this nasty Golbez business, right? He's been the king's right-hand man ever since you two went missing – and he's brought nothing but misery upon Baron. Of course, Rosa and Kain would want to do something about it – this is their homeland, after all."

If Cecil's jaw clenched any harder, it was going to snap in half. Short of an eyewitness that could testify watching Cecil's live birth on Baronian soil, it wouldn't take much else to ever convince Joanna that the king's charity case was as much of a Baronian citizen as anyone else.

"Yes, it's Golbez. In Fabul…he and Kain…"

"Enough!" Joanna barked, holding up her hand. "Every second you stand here is another that passes without my daughter home safe."

"I'll save Rosa. And Kain. You have my word. T-that's all I wanted to say."

"Well, as much as I appreciate the status update, I suggest you go out and do that right now," Joanna glared as she gripped the edge of the door. "Bring Rosa back to me!"

And with that, the door slammed in his face, the long-forgotten milk bottles rattling in distress at his feet.

Cecil exhaled shakily, his fingertips brushing over the swell of his still-throbbing cheek. All things considered, the conversation certainly could have gone much worse.

---

Porom opened her eyes, groaning as the bright sunlight hit her face through the parted curtains across from the bed. Next to her, she could feel Palom's steady breath fluttering against the strands of her baby-fine hair, which had half-fallen out of its ponytail. When she rolled over to shake him awake, she was shocked to see that he had already awoken before her, his gaze fixated on the rain-discolored thatched ceiling with his hands folded across his chest. Porom could hardly recall ever seeing her brother in such a peaceful state, and felt an irrational pinch of fear clench hold of a nerve behind her left ear. If she couldn't so obviously make out his breathing, she would have thought him dead.

Shoving that gruesome thought in the back of her mind, she unleashed a yawn, not bothering to cover her mouth – there was no need to be polite in front of him, after all. "Good morning. Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough, but you snore a ton," Palom drawled. The truth was, he couldn't even remember making his way to bed in the first place, and had only heard Porom once he had fully woken up, but insulting his sister came as naturally to him as breathing. "Haven't you found a white magic spell to cure that by now?"

"Even this early in the morn, your humor is pithy," Porom snipped. "Excuse me for not being used to this dry countryside air." It was only then that she noticed she hadn't heard any other activity around her or any other voices greeting her from sleep. She sat up confusedly, realizing that the other three beds that had been crammed into the room were empty. The bed to their left had been tidied up with military-precision with nary a crease in sight – she wondered if that was where Cecil had slept, her heart dropping into her stomach like a stone in still waters. Even though they had managed to rouse Yang from whatever spell he had been placed under by the Baronian military, Porom could not get the despair etched in Cecil's features the night prior out of her head. Porom couldn't have begun to imagine what it was like to have to go through all he had suffered on Mount Ordeals, only to return to a homeland that thought him either dead or an enemy. She wondered if it had been vexing for him to sleep in an unfamiliar bed in a drafty lodge when his "home" was only a couple hundred yards away, now forbidden to him.

If I were to go home to Mysidia and find the Elder taken away from us, along with everything else I ever knew…I think I would just collapse on the portico of the Tower of Prayer and cry.

"What are you staring at?" Palom blinked, glancing at the empty bed. Porom turned away, shaking her head.

"N-Nothing. Where are the others?"

"They probably went downstairs to get something to eat," Palom shrugged. "Everyone was gone when I woke up."

"Hmmm…" Porom swung her legs over the bed and hopped down, padding over to the window and yanking the curtains open the rest of the way. Outside, she could see a few townspeople milling about, but they all looked as if they were cautiously checking over their shoulders every few steps for any trouble. Someone even stopped in place to stare directly at the bedchamber's window, causing Porom to squeal under her breath and dart back out of sight lest she look suspicious. She and her twin had grown up on many stories about Baron, being that it was once Mysidia's sister-city – but this wasn't the bustling dwelling of heroes and beautiful maidens in those traveler's tales. Instead, they had been thrust into a village occupied by phantoms. She looked back at her brother, who was now busying himself with a stray thread on his pants.

"Palom," she said, her voice cracking mid-syllable. "Why did you want to come with Cecil so badly, anyway?"

"Because Mysidia is soooo boring!" Palom flicked away the thread he had liberated and kicked off the bed covers. "But I didn't think Baron would be this boring too! Where are all the dark knights and dragoons? Where are the hot babes? There's nothing here but some bar-brawling punks!" He grabbed an apple from his knapsack slung across the small night table and crunched into it with a satisfying snap. "And why did you want to come? I suppose you thought it would be a 'good learning experience', right?"

Not exactly. Porom sighed and drew the curtain shut. "I did want to help Cecil rescue his friend…after all, he protected us on Mount Ordeals…but I admittedly had ulterior motives."

"Reallllly?" Palom raised his eyebrows. "Are we sure Cecil's darkness didn't latch onto you?"

"Not evil ulterior motives!" Porom huffed. "It's true that I wanted to see Baron for myself – I agree with you that Mysidia can be…predictable, at times. But more importantly – I wanted us to gain unfettered access to the world alongside Cecil once he got his airship." Palom took another bite of his apple, his head cocked in confusion. Porom stared down at her stocking feet, her cheeks reddening by the second.

"I thought…I thought if we rode the airship all over the world, and visited all these new places…that you know…well, maybe we wouldn't recognize them, but…they would recognize us. Our parents, I mean."

A lump of apple slid down Palom's throat in an audible "gulp" as he stared at Porom. She pressed her fingers together, the corner of her mouth tugging upward even as her eyes began to swim in tears. "And…we could be together again. I know eventually we would have to go back to the Elder for our training, but…" She lifted her head, a glinting tear catching on a curtain-strangled sunbeam as it slid down her face. "Pretty stupid, right?"

Palom chuckled under his breath, descending from the bed and tossing the remainder of his apple into the trash. "That's…that's a good idea, Sis. Probably the best one yet to hatch from that know-it-all brain of yours." Porom smiled a little more.

"You mean it? I mean, do you think it will work?"

"Yeah, it will work," Palom grinned. "Of course, they would recognize us. Just think about it: Once we rescue Rosa, we're gonna get to wail on this Golbez guy and take back our crystal! We'll be famous, and there will be no way they won't recognize us!"

"Yeah!" Porom nodded eagerly. As much as she sometimes loathed Palom, his infectious enthusiasm was something she never got tired of. "All we have to do is help rescue Cid, and then we'll have wings of our own to see the whole world over! I can't wait to see everything, everywhere, ever!"

"Now you're talking!" Palom pumped his fist into the air. "I knew you had a sense of adventure buried somewhere in there."

The twins were pulling on their capes and boots when Cecil returned, looking as if he had somehow stumbled into the inn by accident. His gaze swept over the twins confusedly before the light snapped back on behind his eyes. He pulled his wind-blown hair off his neck, scanning the room.

"Ah, you're awake. Where are the others?"

"They weren't with you?" Porom blinked. Palom tugged on his last boot, eyeing Cecil suspiciously.

"Why is your cheek red?"

"I…" Cecil trailed off distractedly, his hand flying to his face as he walked past them and shut himself in the water closet, presumably to investigate the damage in the dingy mirror it housed. It was then that Porom noticed the twice-folded note tossed onto the table. She snatched it up before her brother could notice, reading out loud the elegantly etched script dancing across the pages in two neat lines.

"I've left to check on Rosa's mother. Do not follow – I'll return soon."

"That explains the mark on his face," Palom nodded with satisfaction, and Porom couldn't help but agree with his assessment, sighing as she folded the note back up.

Tellah and Yang returned some time later, depositing a half-eaten basket of food on the table that the twins descended upon like locusts in lieu of a greeting. Cecil was sitting up in the bed closest to the window, sketching out a rough map from memory of the waterway they were going to infiltrate. It was true that he hadn't set foot there in years, but enough of the path had been carved into his brain thanks to the horrors he had been forced to face during his training. It hadn't just been the monsters that had seemingly multiplied thanks to the dank, dreary conditions – those were bad enough – but once upon a time, the waterway had also played host to the royal family catacombs before a law had been passed deeming above-ground burials suitable for the royals. As a cadet, Cecil had made the mistake of disclosing to Kain his fear that the waterway was haunted, which resulted in endless amusement for Kain in the form of pranks during their training that left more of an impact on Cecil than he was ever willing to admit aloud.

"We've done a bit of scouting in the underwater passage to gauge what we were up against," Yang announced, handing the master key over to Cecil. "It's as you remember – the monsters down there are fierce."

"The gods only know how long it has been since they've encountered any humans," Cecil frowned. "But you've made it back – does that bode well for our plan to cut through?"

"With Palom's and I's magic, it will be a piece of cake," Tellah smiled. "We've discovered that the beasts have so thoroughly adapted to their environment that they can easily be defeated with thunder magic."

"All right!" Palom exclaimed through a mouthful of food. "Glad to hear you're finally grasping just how awesome I am."

Yang grinned at the boy's zest, flexing a claw fastened to his fingers that spat out delicate sky-blue sparks. "And I had this modified at the arms shop just for the occasion! It took a little convincing for the weapon smith that I wasn't with the Baronian guard, but when I dropped Cid's name, suddenly I was deemed a VIP."

"Cid is well-loved by everyone here," Cecil sighed. "I'm sure the news of his captivity has only further widened the chasm of distrust between the villagers and the king." His Majesty…there will be no avoiding it once we break into the castle – he may be the only person who knows where Cid is being kept. No matter how it turns my stomach to do so – I'll be forced to face him once more and question all that he has done to these innocent people!

He penciled in a final detail on the map, circling a portion of the moat he had drawn in on the upper right corner of the parchment, and handed it over to Yang. "This is a rough layout of the waterway. Our goal is to reach the exit that will deposit us into the castle's moat. From there, it's a short swim to the southwest wing of the castle – there's a gate that will take us inside."

"Do you suppose that gate is guarded?" asked Porom, ever the strategist.

"That…is hard to say," Cecil admitted. "The castle itself has scouts posted all over, but the gate has never been guarded for as long as I've resided there. That doesn't mean we shouldn't prepare ourselves for a fight going in."

"Yeah, well, we'll cross that bridge when it comes!" Palom said, waving his sister's concern away like a bothersome fly. "Are we going to spring Cid out of jail, or are we going to sit here and paint our nails?"

With an hour between Cecil's encounter with Joanna and the party reuniting, much of Baron's normal morning activity was underway, although to a notably more muted degree than what Cecil was used to. With school out, he expected more children to be wreaking havoc in the streets or trying their luck with the fishing at the northeastern watermill, but only throngs of adults passed them by, heads ducked. It seemed that with the defeat of the monsters Yang had been unknowingly leading, the townspeople were making their way about their business with an increased haste – word had spread like wildfire about the mysterious knight and his army of mages that had taken the guard down, and no one wanted to risk being questioned in the streets by a pack of replacement soldiers once the castle had caught wind of the news.

The party made use of Cecil's familiarity with every lane and alley in Baron's perimeter to sneak their way to the locked gatehouse nestled inside the hilltop Cid and Amelia's house sat upon. Cecil fished the key out of his cloak and with a grinding, unsettling screech, unlocked the gate. A damp, musky smell instantly hit their nostrils, filling their mouths with the same taste one might experience if they sucked on a stack of dirtied gil. Tellah hurriedly ushered the twins into the swell of darkness waiting for them, Yang closing in on the rear as Cecil tugged the gate shut and secured the latch.

"Ugh, gross!" Palom groaned, covering his nose. "Someone needs to crack a window! Just how big is this place?"

"A couple of miles long." Cecil knelt down, feeling about blindly for a few moments before his fingers brushed over an iron ring planted in the floor, slick with years' worth of trapped humidity. With a low grunt, he tugged the accompanying trap door open, revealing a rickety set of wooden stairs. "Watch your step, kids. From here, we make our descent." An alarmed, very un-human squeal echoed in the distance, and Palom and Porom turned to each other, pale as ghosts.

After several minutes of cautious, single-file hiking down the steps, they finally reached the hard, cold shale that welcomed them to the catacombs rising over the rush of water several yards away. Beads of condensation crawling along the ceiling and cavern walls occasionally splashed into time-worn pits in the ground, each new drip of water's arrival announced with a whimper of an echo that was soon swallowed by the darkness. Porom pulled her gaze away from the towering carvings of milky-eyed, granite-jawed kings of Baron's past that were glaring at her from across the waterway, nearly screaming as the water at her feet rippled from a school of Splashers swimming by. They were muddy-blue, overgrown piranhas that had grown blind from the dimness of the catacombs, and as a result, the species had evolved to emit its own light for hunting in the form of bioluminescent fins and corneas that Porom could see gliding under the black water like a ferryman's lantern bobbing across the river Styx.

Tellah reached into his cloak and pulled out a wooden torch he and Yang had purchased, lighting it aflame with a Fire spell. The crackling carmine blanket spread over the five of them like a comforting embrace, revealing an algae-drenched drawbridge that would carry them across the waterway into the heart of the catacombs.

"Are there undead living here, too?" Palom whispered.

"Well…nothing like what we saw at Mount Ordeals," Cecil frowned, taking the torch from Tellah and swallowing the lump he hadn't realized formed in his throat. For just a moment, the torch's glare shining against the choppy water had distracted him, and he swore that he saw two figures darting between the congress of dead kings, one with a corn silk ribbon of hair flying from beneath a leather-plated helmet, and the other with silver waves falling over his eyes, laughing and cursing as he ran to keep up. But when he blinked, the figures had disappeared, a thin film of fog drifting among the carvings, undisturbed. Cecil lowered his eyes, willing his heart to cease its incessant hammering. Palom turned to his sister, laughing nervously.

"I bet this place is haunted."

It just might be. Cecil closed his eyes, holding his breath as he started to cross the draw bridge, just like Kain had taught him to do in that very same spot years and years ago during their last training session together before Kain was officially invited to join the Dragoons.

"Cecil…as much as I enjoy torturing you, you do know there's no such thing as ghosts, right?"

"Y-Yeah…I know…"

"Your pallor says otherwise."

"I'm always this w-white…I'll be fine. Let's just go and find this monster from our briefing."

"Wait, wait, wait. OK, before we cross the bridge, take a deep breath and hold it like your life depends on it."

"Huh? Why?"

"If you hold your breath the entire time you cross a bridge, you'll have a wish granted. So, all you have to do is wish that you'll be all right, and it will come true."

"You're…you're kidding. A fairy tale like this, coming from a cynic like you, Kain?"

"Just trust me, OK? It always works. It's something my father taught me."

When Cecil next opened his eyes, he found himself on the other side of the water, Tellah, Yang, Palom and Porom staring at him curiously.

"Everything all right?" Yang asked, his brow furrowed in concern. Cecil nodded quickly, his hand falling to the hilt of his blade, where he had tied their makeshift map for safekeeping.

"Y-yes, of course. Sorry – I was just trying to recall what came next." He freed the map and handed it over to Porom, who could heal them as necessary with one free hand thanks to her magic. "From the catacombs, we'll cross over several small islands where the waterway widens. Everyone must be on the lookout for monsters from here on out – don't lull yourself into a false sense of security by thinking they'll just keep to the water. I'll take point."

"Very well," Yang relented. He could tell something was eating away at the knight, but there was no way he was going to try to engage in any sort of heart to heart in a dread place like this with two impatient children and the even more impatient Tellah. Cecil proceeded to lead the group down the winding path that cut through the catacombs, while Palom and Tellah took care of any monsters they could see poking out of the surrounding waters by frying them with Thunder spells.

My wish…it's that all of us will escape this unfurling catastrophe unscathed…that everything could just go back to the way it used to be…

---

After hours of dodging the resident nasties (including an unfortunate congregation of Gigas Gators that Yang had stumbled upon nesting in a deteriorating tomb, and had then subsequently evicted with his fists), they emerged from the catacombs, with a notably elevated disposition now that they were freed from the surrounding shroud of death. But as the party passed into the next alcove, Cecil, whose gaze was locked squarely on the twisting spill of darkness in the distance that he knew housed the tunnels that would take them to the castle – and to His Highness –, was startled out of his trance when he found his feet suddenly plunging into ice-cold swill that went up to his thighs, daggers of stinging pain jabbing his every nerve. A delicate splash sounded next to him, and the chamber suddenly plunged into darkness – in his shock, he had dropped the torch, which had promptly extinguished itself in the lake he now found himself in.

"What the…!?" Cecil gasped, his focus snapping back to attention as he spun around. The bridge he had been expecting to carry them across the ominously bubbling pool spread before them was slumped, mostly rotted and half-submerged, in the water. Porom and Palom had frozen in place at the ledge, peering at him curiously, while Yang and Tellah both looked as if they were a stiff breeze away from breaking out into laughter.

"We called out for you to stop, but you were too deep in your head," Tellah huffed. "Who else but you can daydream in a place like this?"

"I'm envious of your meditation skills," Yang offered, though his mustache was twitching with the threat of a smile.

"I was hardly…" Cecil began, but decided that it wasn't an argument worth having, even in jest, and promptly clenched his mouth shut. He could feel the now-worthless torch tap against the shin of his greaves as it sank to the bottom of the lake, and silently sighed. The thought of encountering King Baron and confronting him about his crimes against the world was unnerving him more than he had anticipated.

Despite everything he's done…every wound he's inflicted…he's still the man that raised me like this own…who saved me from a life of abandonment.

…Without him, I wouldn't have met any of the people I love…

…But how can I rationalize any of that against all the horror he has brought into this world?

"Ah, I see, there was once a bridge here," Porom blinked, turning the map over in her hands as she gazed over the lake and the pale cobalt, mushroom-like islands of shale which were sprouted throughout. "But now everything is gone…?"

"The monsters most likely had their way with this place, after all these years of abandonment," Cecil replied, happy for a minor distraction from his despair-ridden contemplation. With a running start, Kain would have been able to clear the lake easily by leaping from island to island – but there was no such extraordinary strength among the five of them. It briefly occurred to him that they could use Tellah and Porom's white magic to float across, but he feared for what remained of their mana reserves after the hordes they had just cleared out of the tombs – who knew what else would be waiting for them once they actually reached the castle? "We'll just have to tread water the remainder of the way. Tellah, Yang, hoist Palom and Porom on your shoulders – the water gets a little deeper yet ahead."

"So, this place is abandoned? Why did the Baronian army stop training in here?" Palom queried, nearly smashing his foot into Tellah's kidneys on his way up the old man's back. Tellah sucked in a low breath, swallowing his curses. Yang had daintily lifted Porom as if she were a doll, planting her on one broad shoulder like a parrot.

As soon as the last word left the boy's mouth, Cecil spotted out of the corner of his eye a slinking shadow cutting through the lake, leaving a trail of popping bubbles in its wake. He lifted his sword, beads of cloudy water sliding down the miraculously unsullied silver, and a sudden hush fell over the party.

Moments later, a slime-ridden, bloated Aqua Worm the size of a large man erupted through the surface of the water, its spheroid mouth wide open and exposing an impressive collection of spiral-shaped, spiny teeth. A ghastly blast of putrid breath from the worm's screams washed over them, and Cecil plunged his sword into the Aqua Worm's writhing abdomen without a second's hesitation. There came an emphatic "pop" as the pale blue membrane stretched over the monster's frame withered like an eel in a frying pan, and the worm offered a guttural hiss before sinking back into the water, black ooze rising to the lake's surface and pooling around Cecil's knees. With the worm's departure came another wave of stink and a round of disgusted groans from the onlookers. His free hand clasped over his face to stifle the smell, Cecil peered up at Palom from the midst of the carnage.

"That's one of the reasons."

"Huh," Palom scratched his head. "Man-eating worms moved in. Got it."

"We can't use Thunder magic while we're in the water, or else we'll electrocute ourselves," Tellah warned. "Everyone, keep your wits about you!"

With the bridges out, their path through the lake had disappeared, so they had no choice but to follow the direction of the water and to squeeze through the openings in the rocky walls that the outflow had eroded over time. Eventually, they reached a platform that was low enough for them to climb out – it wasn't quite where the bridge would have dropped them off, but it was close enough for the drenched men-turned-caravans for the kids. Tellah and Yang leaned over and let the twins climb off their shoulders onto the safety of land before pulling themselves up. Cecil tossed his sword onto the ledge to climb up after them, shivering as he paused to wring the water out of his cape.

The platform rose upward to another alcove, forcing them to bear left through pulsating nest of Aqua Worm larvae that Cecil made quick work of with the bottom of his boot – and for good measure, Palom proceeded to light it on fire on their way out. After climbing a few clumsily-carved, uneven steps, Cecil reached a rotting wooden door with a rusty ring for a handle.

"What's this?" He asked aloud, though of course no one answered. As he pulled the door open, it protested noisily, like the screech of hundreds of bats in unison, and Tellah, Yang and the twins braced themselves for another monster attack.

But what was on the other side of the door ended up being a welcome sight. They were still underground, but they had at last reached what Cecil remembered as the Baronian army's training base from better days. Long, long ago, the generals of the Baronian army and the leaders of the Kingsguard had dug out and constructed rooms that the royal family could escape to in the event of an invasion. But as Baron's militaristic might grew, and alongside it the fortifications of the castle, a less-susceptible escape room had been constructed, though even Cecil had no idea how to access it. As a result, the underground bunker had been transformed into a basecamp that soldiers and cadets could sleep or train in. Divets had been carved in the walls so torches could be hung to light the area, and to their left, Cecil could make out the gaping maw of the tunnels that would have originally led them there, had the bridges not been out.

Compared to the catacombs and the lake, this place was downright cozy.

"Is it safe to rest here?" Tellah asked, pointedly tilting his head toward the children. Palom and Porom were leaning against each other, barely stifling obnoxious yawns behind their tiny hands.

"Let's get out of the open," Cecil suggested, cutting across to another wooden door and pulling it open. Inside, a few monster-repelling crystals covered in a film of dust were scattered about in the shape of a circle. A pile of blackened wood and debris, blanketed in the same dust was shoved away in a corner. From the looks of it, no one had been in here for a very long time – he and Kain had often used this chamber as a first aid stall to tend to the injuries they collected on their run through the catacombs, and he could even spot the remains of a few empty potion bottles amongst the debris.

The five of them dropped onto the ground inside the circle of crystals, Porom distractedly brushing away the dust so that she could make out the pale blue glow that still emanated after all this time. The way the motes of crystal light flickered in her gaze reminded Cecil of the dying gleam from Crystal of Water when he had taken it into his hands in Mysidia, and he felt his stomach sink deeper into the basket of knots his innards had tied themselves into.

"We've just a little further to go, and then we'll be in the castle," he said, suddenly desperate to fill the air with something other than silence. Yang once again picked up on the distraught rasp in Cecil's words.

"What should we do once we get inside?" Yang asked. Last time he had seen Cecil in such distress – after Kain's surprise attack – plotting their next steps had done well enough to keep the knight's spirits aloft. "Will anyone there be willing to help us?"

"That's doubtful," Cecil frowned. If the guards that Yang had been leading in Baron were monsters, that didn't bode well for the rest of the castle infantry. "First and foremost, we must locate Cid and ensure his safety."

"A jailbreak?" Palom grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Not only am I a master in the dark arts, but I can also pick locks! I'll just need a hairpin – you got any of those floating around in that luscious hair, Cecil?"

"Please," Porom huffed. "You can hardly pick your nose."

Cecil made it a point to ignore Palom's barb, though he had to resist pushing his hair away from his eyes, not wanting to bring any more attention to the startling silver that had always served as a potent reminder, along with his eyes, that he wasn't Baron-born. "I don't think it will be as simple as making our way to the prison. Cid is brilliant – he would have found a way out of there for himself by now. The only person who will for sure know of Cid's whereabouts is the one who ordered his capture – King Baron."

"The king, eh?" Tellah mused. "He'll probably be very well-guarded. But I'm sure it's nothing we can't take care of."

"We shouldn't underestimate Baron's military," Cecil warned. "The Red Wings may be terrorizing the skies right now, but if the Dragoons are here, even without Kain to lead them, we could be in serious trouble. The monsters Baron turned upon us in Fabul were nothing to sneeze at – and they were modeled after common foot soldiers."

"Then it's settled – Cecil will lead us straight to the throne room!" Tellah declared. Cecil pressed his hand to his forehead, trying to massage away the twinge of pain riding down his jawline.

"Cecil…?" Yang blinked. "What's wrong?"

"His Highness…I've no idea what to possibly say to him when we meet…"

"Why not?" Palom demanded. "He's the bad guy making all this stuff happen, right? He stole our crystal, and I've got a lot I'm gonna say in return! Are you a paladin, or are you a coward?"

"Palom, knock it off!" Porom hissed as her mortified gaze fell upon Cecil's slumped form. "I'm so sorry for my brother, Cecil. He..."

Cecil shook his head, interrupting her. "Palom is right – deep inside my heart, I know everything it is that I want to say – what should be said. But what holds me back is that His Highness raised me as his own son – he's the closest person to blood kin I have. I thought I had made peace with turning my back on my homeland, but being back here like this, without Kain and Rosa…maybe that's not entirely true. It's not just my home I've chosen to abandon…it's the only family I've ever come to know, as well."

Cecil… Yang lowered his eyes. No wonder you've been out of it since we arrived.

Tellah pressed his lips together, shooting Palom a glare from behind his glasses. He supposed he hadn't put much thought into his friend's origins – he had assumed, being a dark knight paired with such courtly mannerisms, that Cecil had risen to prominence from Baron's nobility, since such training came with a high pile of gil. But to have been raised as Baron's heir apparent…well, that made things a tad more complicated, didn't it?

"Oh…sorry, I g-guess," Palom stuttered, his face flooding red with shame. "I didn't know."

"And that's why you should just keep your cursed mouth shut!" Porom shrieked. A small part of her was fearful that Cecil was about to march them right back to Mysidia and tell the Elder "Thanks, but no thanks".

"It's foolish, I realize," Cecil sighed. "Your sympathies are misplaced, Porom."

"True loyalty is a rare virtue, and never foolish, Cecil," Yang said gently. "When the time comes to speak with King Baron, I have faith you'll do what is right – and we'll be here by your side, no matter what may come of it. What you must remember for now is that you are doing this for Cid – and Rosa!"

Cecil nodded slightly – he could feel the hammering of his heart easing to a slightly more manageable meter. Calm, rational Yang was always right about things like this – the monk's seemingly obvious advice reminded Cecil of how much growing up he still had to do. In the past few weeks he had been forced to revise so much of how he thought the world worked – how he had thought he fit inside that world, in order to survive – it was more than what any of his training could have ever prepared him for.

He concluded that they should get going again soon, before he really lost his nerve.

After another half-hour of stilted, awkward conversation about nothing of any importance and the nursing of passed-around potions and ethers, they abandoned the saferoom and wound around the corner to the north. The incline of the tunnels became stepper, their footsteps began to sink ever slighter in the pressed earth, and the taste of the air grew a little less metallic on Cecil's tongue – slowly but surely, they were scaling toward the surface world.

But just as they broke free from the final tunnel, finding themselves in the antechamber that had once held stores of supplies for the soldiers – empty, dilapidated shelves lined the walls that flanked a single doorway set upon a three-step flight of stairs – a barrage of heavy footsteps roared to life as the door ahead of them suddenly swung open, two Baronian soldiers in navy uniforms filling the threshold. Cecil threw his arms out to halt the others behind him, a low hiss escaping his clenched teeth.

Damn…so they realized the waterway was vulnerable…! Are they human, or…?

"Intruders!" one of the soldiers screamed, and the pair withdrew their blades in a flourish. "Kill them!"

Yang launched himself into a running leap of a kick, spinning in a blur like a top and slamming one foot into one soldier's gut and while planting his other foot in the second soldier's face. As they doubled over, weapons clattering to the ground, Palom shouted "STOP!", his rod glowing menacingly. At his command, the soldiers froze in place, their hands clutched to their injured body parts mid-fall, and crashed to the ground with nary a scream, their suspended-open eyes quivering with strain as they stared at Yang's looming figure over them.

"That will keep them busy for a while!" Palom grinned.

"We must hurry!" Cecil cried. "The exit is just up ahead!" They raced past the soldiers and up the stairs through the now-open doorway. Fortunately, it appeared that the soldiers had been alone – or that their compatriots had fled once they caught wind of what they were up against. The next room was completely empty, and clear as anything, the team could hear the sound of water flowing above. Porom slammed the door behind them and bolted it shut, pushing her ear against it to make sure the soldiers weren't yet recovering from Palom's magic.

"This way," Cecil instructed, leading them to a rope ladder with several broken rungs that was dangling against the far northern wall. Small streams of sunlight were glowing over it – gossamer threads of promised freedom. He went first at Tellah's insistence as Yang knelt down, calling for Palom and Porom to get onto his back, and soon his friends' voices were fading to dulled echoes overtaken by the roar of rushing water. He could feel a burst of fresh air hitting his face, and then…

"At last!" Cecil gasped, climbing over the short stone floodwall that the ladder was hooked over and throwing himself into the moat that surrounded the castle with a loud splash. A few moments later Tellah, Yang, Palom and Porom fell in after him, their heads bobbing up to the surface followed by a chorus of sputtering and coughing. As a final precaution, Cecil reached for the ladder's restraints, slashing them apart with his sword so that it collapsed inside the waterway, cutting off any further access. With a relieved sigh, he sheathed his sword and pushed the clumps of wet hair out of his eyes, spinning around to get his bearings. They were behind the castle, as expected, and from what Cecil could see, there were no guards currently posted at the overlook that would have been able to spot them.

But his short-lived elation was cut short when he came to the realization that the castle grounds were deathly quiet save for the hum of the water splashing against them. The same heavy, dire atmosphere was hanging over Castle Baron that Cecil had felt in the depths of the catacombs rotting beneath them in the ancient waterway…

...Like there wasn't a single soul left alive for miles.

"Now what?" Tellah asked warily, not liking the way the hair on the back of his neck was standing at attention. The powerful magical influence he had felt seeping through the village was twice fold here – just taking a shallow breath made his lungs feel as if they were about to burst. "How do we get inside?"

"I…" Cecil cleared his throat, trying to shove away all the unwelcomed thoughts that were piling their way into his mind right at that moment. "…It's just around the corner. Follow me, everyone."

After a short swim, Cecil paused next to a misshapen pile of concrete slabs that made up a stairway that rose out of the water. At the top was an iron-forged gate protecting an opening in the algae-ridden castle brickwork that would barely fit a man stooping over. Cecil fished the master key out of his pocket and stuck it in the gaping lock, turning. With a stubborn click, the lock released, and the door warily swung open, as if hesitant to do so under the orders of its new master.

After climbing inside, Cecil immediately recognized that they were in the western courtyard, directly across from the entryway that Che knew was the prison. To the far north was the tower that eventually led to his chambers and to the right was the hall that would take them into the heart of the keep – and grant access to the throne room.

It was deeply troubling that the western bailey, normally a highly-populated place at any time of the day thanks to many residences being housed in its towers and it being a well-known place for the scores of apprentice mages to practice their magic, had nary a single person wandering about. There wasn't even a guard posted in front of the prison, despite the rumors Cecil had heard in town about the random jailings that had occurred.

"This place looks positively abandoned," Tellah frowned. "And yet…a powerful force is thriving from deep within. Can you feel it?"

Yang shook his head quietly, and the twins exchanged confused looks. Cecil turned away, his pulse quickening in his ears. Was that powerful force Tellah observed the same ruination Cecil could sense flowing like ice water through his veins?

"Let's go to the throne room. It's time His Highness answered for what he's done."

Cecil led the group through the gatehouse that would take them into the keep. After going up a couple of sets of winding stairs, they arrived in the grand hall, with forks to the north and east that would take them to the throne room or the shipyard, respectively. Again, this chamber was as empty as the last – Cecil couldn't recall a time in his life that it had been this deserted – even in the dead of night, guards had always remained stationed in the northern halls that eventually lead to the king's chambers. It was almost impossible for him to believe that only a little over a week ago, he had been naively moaning to Kain about his troubles with the king in this very hall, surrounded by raucous chatter and a company of men that had once obeyed his every command. Now, if he were to run into either Kain or any of his fellow Red Wings, he would be finding himself on the business end of their weapons.

"Lord Cecil?"

What?

Cecil spun around, his heart leaping into his throat. No one currently with him would have ever called him that – his suspicions were confirmed when he saw the look of shock plastered on Tellah's Yang's, Palom's and Porom's faces at the sound of the new voice. A distant door slammed shut, and a few moments later, Baigan, Captain of the Baron Royal Guard, emerged from the eastern hallway, his hand hesitating over the hilt of his blade as he strode cautiously, but purposefully, toward the party. Despite everything that had been happening in Baron, Baigan looked the same as always – slicked back golden blonde hair that glimmered as blindingly as his much-decorated breast. His cold black eyes, which always clashed with the toothy grin that he wore even now, scanned Cecil and his companions accusingly.

"You're…you're alive? Or are you a monster? You look…different."

"No, I'm alive," Cecil breathed, not believing that he was relieved to see Baigan, a man who had helped get him kicked out of Baron in the first place. Cecil watched as the tendons in Baigan's neck slackened, and his hand, more importantly, abandoning its post at the hilt of his blade, falling instead to his hip.

"Of course…the rumors were just rumors then. I should have known better! Ha ha ha ha…my apologies for jumping to conclusions. You can imagine what it's been like around here since you left, I'm sure." Each time Baigan belched out a chuckle, his back teeth clicked so loudly that a chill ran down Cecil's spine.

"Baigan…" Cecil trailed off, his chest clenching. Even for a professional schmoozer like Baigan, that laugh had been a little too forced for Cecil's comfort – and he was certainly rewriting history by his description of Cecil's absence being a mere "leave". "Tell me you've not joined him too."

"Him?" Baigan blinked.

"Golbez."

"Cecil…" Baigan shook his head, pushing a stray hair that had popped out of place with all the delicacy one used to caress a lady's cheek. "I am captain of His Majesty's royal guard. My loyalty belongs to Baron, now as ever. Golbez is nothing more than a usurper with ambitions to snatch Baron's glory from right under our noses – I wouldn't stand for it." Cecil sighed, glancing over at Yang and Tellah. They were asking a million questions with their eyes, but there wasn't enough time for him to possibly go over his dicey past with Baigan, let alone in terms polite enough that he could use in front of him. The fact of the matter was, the one person in the castle that Cecil knew to be in the king's good graces when he had departed for Mist was before them now, which meant he had to tread carefully and siphon what intel he could. Swallowing the urge to vomit that he always got when he was around Baigan for too long, Cecil cleared his throat, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Forgive me, then. I'd heard that Cid is being held here. Is it true?"

"I fear it is," Baigan said. "I led what few remaining men I had here in hopes of rescuing him, but…only I survived." He looked down, gnawing on his lip. "I fled to find rations Cid kept in the shipyard to heal my wounds…when I first saw you, I thought it was delusion brought on by the pain." Baigan carefully rolled up his uniform sleeve, revealing an inflamed, six-inch laceration across his left forearm that was hastily stitched with mending thread that Cecil recognized as a tool for patching airship sails, feeling a wave of nausea crash inside his stomach.

"I…see," he muttered, suddenly feeling horrible for being suspicious of Baigan, even if he was a pompous arse that had, by proxy, helped destroy his career with the Red Wings. None of that matters anymore, Cecil tried to tell himself. Had the king not ejected me from my post, would I even be alive right now? He eyed Baigan's wound piteously, not believing the words that were falling from his lips. "Will you come with us, then? Your blade would be most welcome."

Baigan bowed deeply and swept his uninjured arm across his chest.

"Consider it yours, my lord. Were you on your way to see His Majesty?"

"Yes…"

Baigan nodded, straightening himself back to his full height. "Then we must hurry – it may not be long before Golbez makes his return."

With Cecil and Baigan leading the others, Cecil reached to unbar the double doors that would take them into the antechamber, gritting his teeth through the weight as Baigan watched on, his smile widening as he gingerly rested his palm over his bad arm. Just as Cecil let the plank of wood that had been jammed across the threshold clatter to the ground in a whoosh of breath, Palom and Porom turned to each other with twin glares, eyes narrowed and noses wrinkled.

"What is it?" Cecil asked worriedly. Are they scared? I keep forgetting that they are mere children…should I ask Tellah to escort them to my chambers while this plays out?

"Something stinks," Palom announced, and Porom nodded, resting her hands on her hips.

"I smell it too…a monster's stench."

"What!? There are more?" Baigan gasped, whirling around and withdrawing his blade. "Be on your guard, my lord!" Palom marched up to Baigan, pinching his hose and sticking out his tongue.

"Hmph. His acting stinks, too."

Porom tilted her head, lifting her finger accusingly toward Baigan, whose eyeballs were still darting about frantically, trying to spot the monsters.

"You would expect him to try a little harder to fool us, wouldn't you?"

No…no…! Cecil's face fell as Baigan turned to the twins, still smiling – but now his eyes were practically bulging out of his head from the effort of keeping the grin plastered on his face, and they were rolling around inside his skull with such increased haste that for several seconds, only the whites were visible. Feeling as if a wall of bricks had crashed over him, Cecil stepped between Baigan and the twins, his voice hardened as he reached for his blade. "Baigan…you have gone over to the enemy's side…haven't you?"

Baigan's hand shot out over Cecil's, grasping his fingers so tightly that he could feel the marrow straining against his bones. "Why…why must you keep accusing me of being some kind of traitor? You're the turncoat, Cecil – you're the man who turned his back upon the glory of Baron! I'm merely repaying a great man for the wonderful gift he gave me. Behold!" As the last word left Baigan's lips, his outstretched hand that was clinging to Cecil's began to pop with thick, purple veins, jagged yellow nails sprouting into filed points that plunged into Cecil's alabaster flesh, a pool of blood rising to the surface of the cuts as Cecil's scream froze in his throat.

The rest of Baigan began to turn a deep plum color, and he suddenly exploded out of his uniform, expanding a couple of feet taller and wider with new muscles quivering and layering upon each other with dizzying speed, injected with pure adrenaline. Cecil grunted and slammed his foot into the crook of Baigan's thigh, the impact distracting Baigan long enough for him to yank his throbbing hand free and bid a hasty retreat, dragging the stunned twins with him.

Baigan's fingernails that had been piecing his skin suddenly shot out another three inches in Cecil's absence and curled outward, his fists morphing in a chorus of snapping bones and tearing tendons into a pair of reptilian jaws with beady white eyes protruding from where his knuckles once were, the nails turned fangs dripping with glossy liquid. His head was the last part to transform, twisting and contorting into a crude snout of a dragon with glassy yellow lantern-like eyes, a paper-thin membrane sliding over them in place of eyelids. Baigan kicked his shredded clothing away, laughing manically in his throat as he marched toward the party with his tree trunk-sized legs, each monstrous footfall threatening to send the candlesticks precariously tucked in the wall sconces flying. As his meaty club of a foot came crashing down on his discarded sword, the weapon snapped cleanly in half, the Baronian emblem carved in the blade smashed into an indecipherable mess that made Cecil's heart twist unexpectedly in his chest.

"Look out!" Yang cried, landing a flying kick on one of Baigan's python-like arms as it snapped forward and tried to take a chunk out of the retreating Palom. Cecil withdrew his sword and charged Baigan, gouging him cleanly through his chest, a sickening spray of deep violet, nearly-black blood across his face the thank you for his efforts. But Baigan merely gave a throaty chuckle and knocked Cecil aside with a swipe with the other python under his control, Cecil barely able to lift his sword in time for the beast to sink its fangs into it instead of him, his knees buckling as he struggled to knock the python away. Yang slammed his fist into the left python's mouth, only to be headbutted by Baigan's rock-like, flattened skull, and knocked back into the antechamber doors, which flew open under the monk's bulk. Cecil used the distraction to shake himself free from the python, tearing his blade out from between its jaws with an ear-piecing screech ringing through the air as he dodge-rolled to the left.

"We've got to take out those arms!" Tellah cried in between turns of Protect and Shell spells. "Palom, Porom – Use Twincast! I'll aim for the core!"

"We're working on it, boss!" Palom winked. Meanwhile, Yang had pulled himself up from the ground and charged again, this time successfully forcing Baigan back a few feet so that he was further from the now-catatonic twins. But this time, the python that had been busying itself with Cecil decided to join in, snapping to attention and sinking its fangs cleanly into Yang's arm, causing him to scream out and stumble back, his face white with shock. Two fangs had been ejected from the python's jaw and were stuck in the gaping holes in Yang's bicep, streams of blood mixed with a foul green pus oozing out and dripping all over the floor.

"Yang!" Cecil cried. There was no way Porom could heal him while twincasting with Palom, and Tellah looked to be in the middle of an incantation of his own. Yang collapsed to the ground, his eyes rolling back in his head as Baigan laughed victoriously, the now-defanged python limply chortling along with him.

"Blizzaga!" Tellah chanted, thrusting his staff forward and commanding a storm of icicles and snow crystals to wrap itself around Baigan. He howled as the ice sliced his scaly skin to ribbons, the snowstorm blinding both him and his pythons in a sea of white. While their enemy was clawing at the snow, Cecil ran over to Yang and lifted him by the shoulders, dragging him back toward the now-open antechamber and out of the immediate vicinity of the battle.

"My arm…it's on fire…" Yang groaned under his breath as Cecil collapsed on his rear, exhausted from dragging Yang a few feet. "I can barely move it…"

"You've been poisoned," Cecil gasped, positive that Yang's wounds were only growing wider as he looked them over. What he didn't say out loud was that it seemed as if they had very little time before whatever was in Yang would take full its effect…

"Ugh…" Yang moaned, finally giving in to the waves of blistering pain and closing his eyes. Cecil could hear Tellah unleashing yet another Blizzaga spell in the other room, keeping Baigan busy for the moment.

I've got to heal Yang myself, Cecil thought. I can't wait for Porom to snap out of her trance, and Tellah can't leave the twins defenseless. He closed his eyes, his shaking fingers pressed against his thighs. I have to picture it in my mind…the spell that neutralizes poisons and other negative effects…if only I could remember from watching Rosa…!

---

A memory long-buried in the attic of his mind came flitting back into his mind like a forgotten song, and Cecil saw his preteen-self and a thirteen-year-old Kain slumped on a shared bench inside one of the white magic classrooms, where a panicking Rosa was looming over them, spittle glistening on her pouty lower lip from yelling her head off.

"You fools! What were you thinking, going after a Basilisk by yourselves?"

"It was Kain's idea," Cecil muttered, his fists clamped firmly around his thigh where a bloodied rag had been hastily tied on by Kain. "He thought we could protect the village if there really was one out there."

"Kain!" Rosa shrieked. "Tell me you're not that much of an idiot!"

"If I'm an idiot for wanting to protect my friends, then so be it," Kain replied in a remarkably calm drawl for someone whose foot was now so bloated with poison that it was now about three times its normal size. "Cecil and I knew the white mage acolytes would be training near the Northwoods, and the rumors have been flying about a Basilisk taking up in those parts. If anything had happened to you, we'd never be able to forgive ourselves…right, Cecil?"

"That's true," Cecil winced, another jolt of pain shooting up his thigh through his groin and abdomen. "Urg…gods, this stings…"

"Huh…" Rosa trailed off, pressing her lips together as her voice softened considerably. Cecil couldn't help but notice through his tear-logged eyes that Rosa's gaze had settled squarely on him. "Well, you do realize that had that really been a Basilisk, you'd be struck dead where you stood, right? You're lucky it was just an agitated Imp that had gotten its hands on a poison-tipped dagger. Next time, if you feel the need to do something so dangerous…bring me with you!"

"W-What?" Cecil gasped. "You're…you're not serious?"

"Of course I am," Rosa huffed, folding her hands together. "Now, promise me, or I'll march upstairs right now and get one of the teachers to cure you…then you'll be busted."

"I…I promise," Cecil stammered. "Right, Kain?"

"Of course," Kain half-smiled.

"Very well," Rosa nodded, closing her eyes and muttering under her breath. "Es…"

---

Cecil cupped his hands over Yang's wound, a growing warmth spreading between his fingers as whispered "Esuna!"

A twinkling golden light trickled from his hands like a palmful of spring water, sinking into Yang's wound. The light mixed with his blood and began to bubble beneath his skin, unearthing the buried fangs that clattered to the floor and causing the green ooze to dissipate and eventually dry up into sparkling dust that blew away lazily with one puff of breath from Cecil. The retreating dust revealed two neat punctures that had shrunk to half the size they were only seconds before, with fresh, smooth pink skin emerging. Yang opened his eyes and blinked, flexing his fingers hesitantly before flapping his entire arm up and down.

"Cecil, I didn't know you can use white magic!"

"It's a recent development," Cecil laughed nervously, relieved that Yang was already bouncing back. But the victorious moment was cut short when a loud roar exploded from the great hall, causing both men to leap to their feet in a panic. Through the space between the door and the threshold, Cecil saw hundreds of shooting stars pouring down from the ceiling and exploding upon impact with Baigan, flaming debris springing in every direction and igniting the makeshift bar the Red Wings and Dragoons once held court in. The twins had their arms raised, chanting furiously as the stars rained down yet faster, a shower of comets.

The snakes on Baigan's arms writhed and hissed angrily, and a large explosion of stars at his feet caused him to slip on a patch of ice from Tellah's Blizzaga spell and stumble backwards. Cecil and Yang dove out of the way just in time to dodge Baigan's bulky frame crashing through the doorway, knocking it off the hinges and flattening it beneath him as his arms snapped out of their sockets with a sickening "pop" and flailed about helplessly for several moments before crumbling into dust. Baigan howled and twisted back and forth, struggling to pull himself back up onto his feet as the twins concluded their spell and doubled over, panting for breath.

Cecil's sword materialized in his hands, his body lightyears ahead of his mind as he paused over Baigan's fallen form, willing his tremoring hands to steady themselves as his fingers wrapped tighter around the platinum azure hilt. A droplet of blood from his unhealed puncture wound slid down his knuckle silently, splashing into the pile of dust that had formerly been his comrade's left arm. The sword was poised directly above Baigan's serpentine face, the reflection of his swollen, purple, flaking jaws snapping viciously around a rope-like black forked tongue mirrored in the curves of the mythgiven blade. Cecil's eyes desperately searched Baigan's for even the slightest hint of recognizance, but there was nary a shred of humanity left in those haunted, pupil-less orbs.

Baigan…I'm sorry. Never in my darkest nightmares did I ever think this is how it would end between us… Cecil closed his eyes, drawing a deep, lung-shuddering breath. He could still remember, as clearly as if it had happened yesterday, the night the two of them had first crossed paths.

---

He was still a cadet, and had been made his squad's glorified errand boy the evening a very well-spoken of soldier from the northlands was expected to arrive and take up arms for the Baronian army. Though no one wanted to admit it aloud, none in the most prominent of the guard had any interest in welcoming a foreigner into their ranks, especially one that was as rumored to be so powerful that the king had practically paved the young man's road to Baron in gil to convince him to resettle in their kingdom, and had all but promised a coveted vacant position in the Kingsguard. As a result, Cecil was sent to fetch him from the agreed-upon rendezvous point, a subtle jab that though His Highness may have been excited about the new arrival, no one else of importance was.

And sure enough, when Baigan first laid eyes on Cecil, an un-decorated squire that hadn't even been issued his own blade from the Baronian armory, the message of dissent was delivered loud and clear. All Baigan could bring himself to do was swallow his disgust and toss his belongings onto Cecil's back like a pack mule for the remainder of the journey home. But Cecil, for his part, was terribly awed by Baigan's confidence in the face of such an insult and the elegant air that seemed to emanate from his very pores. He remembered even being impressed by Baigan's flowery accent, the way his vowels were soft, yet carried the same weighty authority as a royal-born in his words, and the way his clipped n's and t's stopped just short of pricking the listener like the thorn of a prized rose. Simply put, he had never truly met anyone in close company to the royal court as un-Baronian as himself, and he couldn't help but wonder what drew Baigan to his adopted homeland.

After a few tumultuous weeks of hazing disguised as onboarding, Cecil watched from the rack constructed in the courtyard where he and Kain polished discarded weaponry from the night's sparring matches as Baigan disarmed the most promising candidate for the open position in the Kingsguard in a blur of steel that was over before either boy could blink. If anyone had been able to capture their battle and replay it in slow motion, it would have revealed brilliant sword work and agility from Baigan that was unlike anything they were being taught in their drills. Instead of the expected cheers from his fellow soldiers, the courtyard fell into silence, and with no one else willing to add credence to Baigan's victory with another match, he ended up taking his leave, chin tilted toward the burgeoning light of the full moon. Cecil was the only one who noted the sag in his shoulders.

"You'd better go after him," Kain suddenly whispered, snapping Cecil out of his reverie. "He didn't drop his sword off."

"Ah, right," Cecil frowned, handing Kain his rag and darting across the yard. He caught up with Baigan in the eastern square, camped on a parapet that rose over Cid's workshop adjacent to the shipyard, his onyx eyes absorbing the light of the spray of stars that seemed to be hanging lower than usual over Castle Baron that night.

"Sorry to bother you," Cecil said in a half-apologetic lilt. "You might have forgotten, but the swords borrowed for sparring are to be returned after."

"Oh?" Baigan cocked a pencil-thin, overplucked brow, not bothering to turn and face who was bugging him – he recognized Cecil's voice, and admittedly didn't like to look at the only person who seemed to tolerate him here on a daily basis for too long – there was something about that kid's eyes that made him feel as if his every secret was tattooed upon his face, exposed for the entirety of the world, and the glare of the full moon only seemed to heighten that troubling sensation. "Well, I borrowed no sword tonight. See for yourself." He casually shoved the blade he had been cradling in his lap across the parapet, and Cecil dove forward frantically, terrified it might fall over the ledge. As he grabbed hold of the sword and lifted it to see better, he blinked, a small gasp escaping his throat before he could stop himself. Baigan smiled crookedly, satisfied with the boy's reaction, and waited for the inevitable barrage of questions.

"This is a Kingsguard broadsword," Cecil breathed, running his fingers over the Baronian emblem etched into the blade with a ribbon of indecipherable text floating above it. "But it's not the current make – this looks to be several decades old, as this is the previous seal King Baron's father carried." He glanced up at Baigan confusedly. "How did you get this? It's in beautiful condition."

"It's mine by birthright," Baigan chortled, uncurling his fingers with an air of impatience until Cecil got the hint and quickly returned the blade. "My father served in Baron's Kingsguard, you know. And his father before him, and his father before him – I could go on and on. It's embarrassing that I have to go through this charade of auditioning for a part in this little playact in order to take my post, but King Baron didn't think the others would take a liking to any perceived favoritism."

That's true enough, Cecil thought. He knew better than anyone else that there was no such thing as special treatment from His Majesty.

"If your father served, then that means you're a Baronian citizen," Cecil concluded with a tinge of disappointment. "Why did you leave Baron?"

"It was through no choice of mine," Baigan shrugged. "If you want to split hairs, I'm only half-Baronian. My mother is Troian, but my parents met while she was passing through Baron and were wed shortly after. But before I was born, my father passed away – a grave illness none could salve. My mother couldn't bring herself to raise me alone, so she returned to Troia to be with her family, and I was born there."

His father died? Just like Rosa and Kain… Cecil stared down at his feet, not sure what to say. "Sorry" didn't seem appropriate, nor welcome – he had a feeling Baigan didn't appreciate anyone feeling sorry for him, ever.

Taking Cecil's silence as an appreciation for his tragic pedigree, Baigan continued on. "Somehow, His Highness managed to track me down, and for the better part of the last year, he's been begging me to return to Baron – both he and his father were fond of my father, and I suppose he thinks my talents will usher Baron into a golden age unlike any other future generations will witness." He peered up at Cecil. "You may not realize it, but you're a lucky bastard to be part of all this, even if you're just a grunt right now. To be born when you were, where you were, to be in the circumstances in which you find yourself at this very moment – it's all just a cast of the die that is fate. To play a part in King Baron's vision of his kingdom in this world…there are many that would kill for what we have."

Cecil flinched at the word "bastard" – it sounded so base on Baigan's tongue, and he wondered if this meant Baigan had bothered digging into Cecil's unsavory background, or if his choice of words was just a sick coincidence.

"So, you're saying it doesn't matter where you were born," Cecil said softly, trying to convince himself more than anyone else. "If we're both right here, right now, it's because fate wills it so."

"That's right. Mayhap you're not as slow as I thought."

After that night, Cecil had fostered a miniscule hope that eventually, he and Baigan might become friends – that maybe someone – an outsider – like him could understand him in a way that even his best friends, try as they might, never really could. When Baigan was inevitably awarded his role in the Kingsguard, and Cecil his role in the Red Wings, they were brought together as comrades more often than rivals. But the passing years and Baigan's escalating ambitions to grow closer to the king crushed any designs of friendship – his eventual discovery of Cecil's relationship with King Baron put a hinder (in his jealousy-stained mind) on what he felt his proper place was in Baron. When confident, ever-loyal to His Liege Cecil was officially bequeathed the title of Lord Dark Knight and given the Red Wings to command, it served as a catalyst to push Baigan's growing dislike of the younger man over the line into outright hatred.

---

You wouldn't believe me…but I understood all too well how you felt about His Highness, Cecil thought, a sheen of tears stinging behind his lids. Would it bring you any peace to know that what we both so desperately desired will now never come to be?

With one clean, defiant swing, Cecil plunged the sword forward, the holy blade severing Baigan's head from his body. Cecil could swear he heard Baigan hiss his name as his blade scraped the stone floor beneath, but when he finally willed himself to open his eyes, Baigan's jaw was clamped shut around his slackened tongue, eyes dull as soot and frozen staring in opposite directions. A few moments later, his monstrous body gave a final shudder, relinquishing the hold on its life, and collapsed into an uneven pile of fine gray dust.

"And that takes care of that!" Palom exclaimed from the other room. He, Tellah and Porom rushed to Cecil and Yang's side, the true weight of their surprise encounter suddenly sinking into their shoulders and lungs as the adrenaline that had been keeping them alight fled their bodies.

"Thank heavens – I wasn't sure how long I could keep up with the Blizzaga spells!" Tellah wheezed. "I suppose I really am not as young as I used to be…thank goodness you kids are here to keep me honest."

Cecil could only continue to stare at the remains of what used to be a fellow comrade-in-arms, saying nothing as he slowly sheathed his sword. Palom, totally oblivious like usual, scuttled over to Cecil and wagged his finger. "Let this be a lesson – you shouldn't be so quick to trust people! Got it?"

"P-Palom…" Yang began gently, "I think Cecil understands…"

A dazzling glimmer caught Cecil's eye as he blinked away the last wave of tears threatening to break free. Without paying Palom any mind, he bent down, gingerly sifting through Baigan's remains and plucking out a freshly-polished golden medal with a version of the Baron standard that was no longer in circulation among their ranks. Turning it over in his fingers, Cecil read the inscription and the dates silently. It was inscribed with a given name he didn't recognize – but the family name was well known among Baron's most elite of guards, and the dates of service were a generation behind his own.

"Even Baigan…" Cecil murmured, dropping the medal back in the dust and rising back to his feet.

"Are you OK, my boy?" Tellah asked softly, and Cecil nodded, his fingers involuntarily curling into a fist at his hip.

"Come. King Baron needs to answer for this."

Cecil glided past the others wordlessly, barely registering the sounds of their hurried footsteps behind him, or even his own. When he reached the towering red oak branded with King Baron's family coat of arms, he allowed himself one last deep breath before taking hold of the twin latches and pulling them open.

Much to Cecil's surprise, although he couldn't seem to articulate why – perhaps it was because he felt as if it had been years since he had last graced this place, and not a mere week – the throne room looked exactly the same as the day he and Kain had been forcibly removed. A rich, crimson carpet led visitors right to the ornate throne rising in the middle of the room where King Baron himself was sitting, his head rested against his hand with a bemused, almost welcoming smile on his face. Behind him, thick tapestries woven out of the finest silks were hung, each one depicting in delicate cross-stitch a prestigious moment in Baron's nearly-eight-hundred-year history. One of the newer tapestries featured an airship rising from the castle, flanking cerulean-tinted skies with the twin moons hovering daintily in the background. With the velveteen curtains tied back from the full-floor length windows in order to show off the incredible artistry of the tapestries, Cecil could see there were no signs of any guards that might be skulking about – which strangely enough made him feel even more uneasy.

As soon as Cecil's appearance registered in the king's eyes, his smile widened considerably, and he sat up straighter, seemingly taking no note of the stormy glare settled in Cecil's gaze. Cecil paused directly in front of the throne, the others coming up a few feet short behind him, and the king bid himself to stand, clapping his hands together with a loud "thwack" that made Palom and Porom nearly jump out of their skin.

"Cecil, you've returned at last! And all the stronger for your journey, by the looks of it." Cecil blinked, admittedly taken aback by the king's jovial attitude.

"Your…Your Majesty…"

"Cecil!" Porom gulped. The king ignored everyone else in the party as he eyed the holy blade in Cecil's scabbard, his eyebrows practically leaping off his forehead.

"Oh, and look at you, my boy…! You've become a…a paladin, is it?"

Cecil tried to choke out a response, but found that his voice had gone completely mute. The king came closer, slowly extending his hand toward Cecil's hip.

"Is that what they call the sword of legend? A holy blade…one that can only be wielded by a soul that bears hallowed light. But I'm afraid that won't do at all."

Cecil swallowed and took a swift step backward, away from the king's grasp. Baron chuckled at the slight, reaching up instead to stroke his beard, as if that was what he had planned to do all along.

"My liege?" Cecil choked, shaking his head slowly. This wasn't going at all how he had anticipated – he could feel what little control he held over his wildly undulating emotions quickly dissolving. Based on the stark silence from his companions, he was sure they were as incredulous as he what was unfurling before their eyes. "Would you really not have me forsake the dark blade? It…it nearly killed me – it was killing me, slowly and deliberately, rotting me from the inside out." King Baron paused mid-stroke and turned away from Cecil, wrapping his arms partway around his considerable girth as he focused his stare upon the tapestries hanging behind them.

"Your liege?" Baron mused out loud. "Who might that be?"

"…What?" Cecil breathed. Palom and Porom gasped under their breath, and Yang unleashed a low growl.

"Oh bother, I think I've just remembered," he replied, letting out a soft laugh that rumbled deeply out of his core in a menacing baritone. "You must mean that old fool who refused to surrender up his kingdom. Yes, that's it – the king of Baron. It's his part I've been playing all this time…ha ha ha ha ha!"

His…part? What the hell is he talking about? Cecil narrowed his eyes, withdrawing his sword before he could stop himself and grabbing "Baron" by the arm, forcing him around to stare him dead in the eyes as he shoved the tip of his sword against the man's neck, meanwhile twisting the thick arm in his grasp into a painful angle that was a flinch away from getting a shoulder dislocated. The harder Cecil's cerulean glare bored into the man's eyes, the faster his stomach fell with the sinking despair that nothing before him was right at all – there wasn't a single mote of light that had once evoked Baron's kindness and generosity, and his crooked grin was nothing more than a facsimile – there was no life behind it, no lift in his curiously ruddy cheeks, no laughter on the tip of his tongue.

A fake? Could this…thing…be telling the truth? The king had pulled a one-eighty in his attitude and treatment of his people, and seemingly overnight, to boot. Cecil clenched his jaw, hissing between his teeth as he yanked the stranger dangerously tighter against his sword.

"I'm only giving you one chance to answer: What have you done with the king?"

The man laughed louder, having no qualms about the blade slicing into the flesh of his Adam's apple and the spill of blood now trailing down the butter-smooth fold of his neck and blossoming a brilliant ruby over the ermine trim of his robes. A trailing, frigid mist drifted lazily at their feet, tendrils wrapping around Cecil's calves and sending a violent chill running up his spine.

"There's…something coming from his robes!" Palom shrieked, pointing toward the now-billowing mist that was pouring outward and enveloping the king's body in an opaque cocoon, blocking him from Cecil's view. Cecil started to choke on the ice-laden air and released the man, stumbling backward and clutching his chest to chase away the chill that had turned his blood to ice water as he gasped for clear air. A booming voice suddenly erupted from the pulsing cocoon, causing the curtains to quiver from their hangings and a pair of standing candelabras to crash to the ground, their light instantly snuffed out.

"Would you like to go and see him, this king of yours? I can arrange that for you quite easily. You'd best not mistake me for another Scarmiglione. How one as weak as he came to be crowned an archfiend I something I will never know – mwa, ha, ha!"

"Then you're one of them!" Cecil growled. "I should have realized…after all this time…!" He could feel his teeth involuntarily chattering as the cocoon exploded into a cloud of glittering fog, drenching the throne room in a dreary wash of gray. The impostor disappeared in a swirl of darkness, and Yang, Tellah and the twins raced to Cecil's side, falling into a semi-circle with their backs pressed against one another, weapons raised while their eyes darted frantically around the now-obscured chamber. Even the piercing glow of the sun through the picture windows couldn't penetrate the mystical veil.

"Another archfiend!" Porom whimpered. "For him to be able to disguise his form like this, for this long a time…"

"…This…creature…he must be the source of the frightful power I've been sensing since we arrived in Baron," Tellah frowned. "It's nothing like I've ever felt before – such depravity, such hatred – this kingdom has been steeped in a curse most foul."

Gods, no! Cecil wanted to scream. His Majesty…our real King Baron…he's been dead this entire time!? When was the switch made? Did Golbez invade long before any of us could possibly suspect…?

I should have known…I should have realized…

Did the darkness flourishing inside my heart blind me from the truth?

Suddenly, there came a vicious growl, and a gargantuan, dusk-draped figure leapt from the top of the throne, sending it flying backward with a kick from his rear haunches through the row of windows with a deafening crash that rang across the entirety of the village beyond. A sweeping shadow inundated the party as Yang screamed for them to run away – but before they were crushed to dust, Tellah cried "Protect!", and a yellow bubble shield burst to life around the team, repelling the attack. The figure hacked up a laugh as it vaulted away with a backflip and landed on four bowed, squat legs where King Baron's throne had proudly stood only moments ago. Tellah's barrier faded away, and with it the sheen of fog, at last revealing the true form of the king's impostor.

It was a bulbous, azure-midnight monster that resembled the cursed offspring of an oversized turtle and a demon-esque human with oily skin that had been pulled too tightly over its balloon-shaped head, revealing every miniscule marking and protrusion on the creature's skull through its flesh. A fracture-ridden carapace enveloped the beast, from which its ivory claw-equipped feet were clicking impatiently on the stone floor, carving wide divots into the once immaculate, hand-sanded tile. A whippet of a tail protruded from its rear end, the color of decaying bone, and in the front, a slinky neck extended from a hole in the shell, a crown of chattering saffron teeth hanging in a wide underbite. Its eyes consisted of two inset milky orbs, and Cecil had the discomforting realization there was absolutely no way of telling whom the beast was sizing up at any given time.

"I am the Drowned King, Cagnazzo…" the creature growled, and a vulgarly long, pointed pink tongue poked out of his mouth, dragging along its teeth and leaving in its wake a trail of blood-flecked saliva. "…Archfiend of water and sworn servant of Golbez! Bow down before me!"

"Gross," Palom muttered under his breath. "Golbez couldn't get any cute girls to join the Archfiends?"

"P-Palom…!" Porom only half-heartedly warned, the blood draining from her face as she noticed the water that had begun to swell at the base of Cagnazzo's feet, where the disappearing fog had gathered and was churning with the fury of seafoam upon a whitecap. Cecil rushed forward, his weapon poised for Cagnazzo's head, but the water suddenly surged in front of him and erected a protective wall, pain tearing through Cecil's arms as he struck what felt like a pile of bricks. Cagnazzo chortled to himself, and with a snap of his jaws, the water barreled forward in a wave that nearly brushed the ceiling, smashing into the party and carrying them across to the opposite side of the room in a blur of blue.

Cecil, taking the brunt of the hit, was dragged beneath the waves and sent scraping along the throne room floor until he felt a jarring knock on the back of his skull, realizing as he blinked away the spinning stars out of his eyes he had been thrown into the entryway doors. He felt a pair of powerful hands yank him out of the water by his shoulders, and found himself face-to-face with Yang, whose palm was raised in a last-ditch effort to revive Cecil the old-fashioned way.

"Not necessary!" Cecil quickly gasped, grasping Yang's wrist in mid-air as he threw up a lungful of water. His legs felt as if they had been beaten with a sack of gil, and his feet had gone numb from the shock of the cold water flooding his armored boots. "Ugh…is everyone OK…?"

"Palom and Porom have been knocked out cold!" he heard Tellah call from across the room. Cecil and Yang followed his voice to a collapsed suit of ancient armor that had once been a prized treasure of the realm, supposedly once worn by one of the first kings of Baron, now transformed into a heap of scrap metal with the two half-drowned children tangled beneath. Tellah was desperately tossing away what he could to free the twins while his eyes were glued to Cagnazzo, fearing what the fiend might try to pull out next from his bag of horrors. Yang pivoted on his heel and charged Cagnazzo with a bellowing grunt, connecting his fist squarely with the monster's jaw. The electricity from Yang's claws rippled through Cagnazzo with a blinding blitz, forcing him to hastily retreat into his shell, limbs and all. Yang began to frantically punch and kick at the carapace, but it did no good – he didn't notice that the water had begun to rise around Cagnazzo once more, nimbly drawing the floodwater back from the first tidal wave that had hit the room, just like the shore at high tide.

"Yang, look out!" Cecil cried, but it came too late. The water suddenly shot into a spiral at the sound of Cecil's voice and enveloped Yang's legs, trapping his arms to his waist in a swirling whirlpool that climbed up the length of his torso. Cagnazzo poked his head out of his shell and chattered his teeth excitedly, his tongue shooting out and wrapping itself in a tight coil around Yang's neck to pull the paralyzed monk closer toward his widening maw.

No…! Cecil winced, forcing himself to stand against the will of his anesthetized legs by using his sword as a staff, screaming under his breath as he struggled to drag himself forward. "Yang, hold on!"

Suddenly, a world-shaking blast exploded from the center of the room, swallowing the distant cries of a voice Cecil could hardly make out over the din – was it Tellah's? – and a blinding shower of white engulfed Cecil's eyesight, momentarily striking him blind. A cascade of ultraviolet lightning came crashing down from the ceiling in a whirl of pops and screeches, striking Cagnazzo in the face and tearing open a blackened pocket of flesh in his skull from which smoke poured like water. Cagnazzo's howl of agony made the hair on the back of Cecil's neck stand up straight – but more critically, the water surrounding him disappeared, dissipating into a fluffy cloud of steam. His arms free for his use once again, Yang grasped the tongue wrapped around his neck, using it as leverage to lift himself in the air and deliver a hook kick to Cagnazzo's face. Cagnazzo, stupefied from the lightning blast and the surging pain from his now-shattered jaw, collapsed flat onto the floor, smoke pouring from the holes where he had tucked his limbs away. A figure swept to Cecil's side in the dying light, blessing him with a Cura spell that instantaneously restored the strength to his legs.

"Feel better now?" Tellah cocked his head. "Sorry I couldn't get to you earlier – I wanted to strike while the iron was hot, as they say."

"Tellah!" Cecil gasped. So, the spell had indeed been his – a concentration of lightning that potent could have only been Thundaga magic. It had been impressive enough seeing Tellah take down Baigan alongside the twins, but to hold command over magic so powerful that it could nearly defeat an elemental archfiend in one blow – he supposed it was one thing simply knowing that Tellah was a sage, but quite another to actually witness the raw power that Mount Ordeals had restored upon him.

How differently would their encounter with Scarmiglione had gone if Tellah had had all his powers?

Did this mean they actually stood a chance against Golbez when the time came…?

Tellah had the grace to blush at Cecil's obvious difficulty reconciling his words. But the battle wasn't over yet – the familiar churn of the water gathering at Cagnazzo's command was starting to drown out the buzzing in Cecil's ears from the lightning strike. He shook his head, jabbing a finger toward the front of the chamber while Yang tore Cagnazzo's tongue away from his neck into two slimy pieces. "Once more, Tellah!" Cecil begged. "Before he tries to retreat into his shell again – I'll protect Palom and Porom!"

Tellah nodded, and Cecil sprinted for the unconscious twins, from whom Tellah had managed to remove most of the rubble before being forced to join the fray. He pulled them into his arms, grabbing hold of a pearl-engraved shield that had wrestled free from the destroyed suit of armor and positioning it between himself and the children. Cagnazzo unleashed his next tidal wave with a warning snarl, snapping at Yang as he leapt upon the fiend's head used it to catapult himself out of the way of the climbing water – Cecil clutched the twins tighter against him, offering a desperate prayer to whatever deity might be listening that Tellah's spell would reach Cagnazzo before the water crested and crashed down upon them.

"Arrr-argh!" Tellah grunted, shakily raising his staff as another maelstrom of lightning rained down from above, this time splintering into five forks, one for each of Cagnazzo's body parts poking out of his shell. Cagnazzo let loose heart-stopping scream as the surge of electricity fried him from the inside out, a fresh chasm lined in glowing white tearing across his shell and exploding open like an egg meeting a hammer. A thick plume of smoke rose from his blackened flesh in place of the subsiding lightning, but it wasn't enough to fully annul his final attack – the water he had summoned instead collapsed into a swirling twister that that came racing straight for Tellah, who was now stumbling in a desperate effort to stay upright, his mana demolished.

"Tellah, run!" Cecil cried, realizing with a sinking horror even as the words left his mouth that such a command was rendered impossible by Tellah's drained strength, and that there was no way he could possibly reach him in time to take the hit in his stead. But before the maelstrom could engulf Tellah, Cecil felt the shield in his hands shudder with a searing heat, igniting his body with the same holy vigor he had experienced just before he had anticipated the dark knight was going to land his killing blow on Mount Ordeals. An empyreal curtain of light materialized in the shape of a translucent wall, stretching across the length of the throne room and vibrating with shimmering brilliance as the water smashed into it and became instantly absorbed, the threat dissipating in the blink of an eye. The curtain then shattered into a thousand motes of pulsing white lights the shape of crystal shards – but when Cecil held out his hand to catch one, the feathery warmth simply melted into his skin, lighting his senses aflame as the shield silently hummed next to him.

The last traces of the light rained upon Cagnazzo's seizing body, and what little remained of him that hadn't been fried by the lightning storm broke down into ashen dust that was unassumingly carried away by a stray breeze drifting through the shattered window.

It's over… Cecil lowered the shield, a fresh stinging rising in his eyes as he gingerly traced the Baronian coat of arms threaded in white gold, exhaling shakily. That strange crystalline light, the same color as the full moon…it came to my aid again.

He wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline from the battle fleeing his body, or the aftereffect of spending the majority of his waking hours soaked down to his soul, but the skin on his exposed fingertips seem to especially burn as they trailed over the crescent-curved blade in the shield's emblem that he had suddenly realized greatly resembled the Deathbringer, when it had been in his possession.

Your Majesty…we did it. We avenged you…

…But now, I don't know what comes next…I'm left with more questions about what's happened than answers…and now you're no longer here to guide me.

Yang sighed at the mess before him, shaking his head as he retracted the claws strapped to his fists. "A formidable foe, indeed – Cecil and Tellah, you have my thanks – you saved all of us."

Tellah wordlessly waved Yang's thanks away, shaking his head.

"It wasn't even a quarter of what that fiend deserved – he was the one that facilitated Damcyan's invasion – the one that granted Golbez access to my daughter's life! I only wish I could have killed him twenty times over again."

Yang pressed his lips together, not liking the way Tellah's rasp had suddenly taken such a demonic register, and felt hastened to change the subject.

"Cecil, was that protective spell part of the white magic you've learned?"

"I'm not sure what happened," Cecil confessed. "That light…it was the same holy light I encountered on Mount Ordeals when I became a paladin, but it seems I have little control over summoning its power."

"From my perspective, it almost looked as if it had manifested from that armament you're holding," Yang replied, crossing his arms as Cecil stared down at the shield, his mouth twisted in quiet contemplation. Yang crossed the room to join the four of them, fluidly dodging an overturned candelabra. "Gentlemen, if we had any doubt of it before, it has now been confirmed that Golbez has gathered some powerful allies. And this Cagnazzo…he made it sound like there were more like him?"

"We encountered the archfiend of earth, Scarmiglione, on Mount Ordeals," Cecil said softly, laying Palom and Porom out on a dry patch of floor. "It wouldn't surprise me if Golbez had other minions lurking elsewhere, waiting to spring another trap."

Tellah lifted his hand, murmuring a pair of Raise spells under his breath. Cecil and Yang couldn't help but notice his staff was shaking like the branch of a tree caught in a windstorm – beneath his water-logged mask of hair, Tellah still looked as if he were about to fall over – his skin had gone so white that they could spy the various intersections of tiny blue veins spidering beneath.

This is the price for such an incredible show of power, Cecil winced. I shouldn't have encouraged him to go so hard…I see now that he was telling the Elder the truth…there is no price he'll refuse as long as he gets his revenge – not even if that price is his life.

"Wake up, you two!" Tellah wheezed at the spells' completion, a blanket of iridescent feathers pouring over Palom and Porom. The twins opened their eyes at the same time, glaring at each other accusingly until it dawned upon them that they had both been knocked out. Their matching sneers transformed into droopy pouts, and Palom slammed his fist against his thigh.

"Awww, did we miss out on all the fun?"

"I guess so," Porom lowered her eyes. "Sorry we couldn't be of any use to you… Baigan must have left us worse off than we thought."

Before anyone could protest Porom's ridiculous apology, a pair of raucous footsteps suddenly erupted in the air from the direction of the antechamber – Tellah barely had time to dive out of the way just as the throne room doors slammed open, the broken glass from in the rear of the room rattling ominously in place. Cecil's head jerked up, his arm instinctively reaching to shield the twins.

Now what!?

"Filthy impostor! Now you'll answer to ME!"

A rotund figure covered in patches of soot and gods only knew what else stormed into the room, a wooden hammer raised over his head as spittle flew from between teeth that could pass for piano keys. "You've got another thing coming if you think you can keep me locked up in a musty old sty like that!" He suddenly paused mid-rant when he realized there was nothing left in the throne room except for overturned candlesticks and pools of quivering water, and lowered his hammer, scratching his head curiously. "…Eh? Now where'd that sneaky bastard go off to?"

"C-Cid!?" Cecil gasped, shaking his head in disbelief as he slowly rose to his feet. "Is that really you?"

"GAH!" Cid cried, spinning around and yanking his goggles aloft to his forehead. "That voice…!" But adjusting his eyewear wasn't enough to convince him he wasn't seeing things – he proceeded to grind his filthy fists over his eyes, causing everyone that was watching inwardly cringe. "Cecil! Why are you dressed like that? Are you some kinda ghost?"

"No," Cecil replied, his voice cracking as a relieved, unexpected laugh escaped. "It's really me – and you're just the man I've been looking for."

Cid muttered something incomprehensible as he rested his hand over his heart, letting his hammer drop to the floor. "You're alive…" he started to sputter, streaks of wet gray blossoming over his cheeks as his eyes squinted shut. "It wasn't but a few hours ago that I discovered the truth about King Baron – suddenly, everything made sense about why he was tryin' to get rid of you – or rather, why this imposter was. You had me so damn worried, you…you…you!" He hurriedly reached up mid-sob and snapped his goggles back on. Cecil had never been more delighted to have to pretend he didn't notice the old man's abundance of emotion. There was no doubt about it now: standing before him was the authentic Cid Pollendina.

"I'm sorry," Cecil apologized, though he couldn't help but let himself smile – it just felt so damn good to finally meet someone in this accursed castle that didn't want to murder him. Cid huffed and waved the boy's apologies away, reaching in his pocket for a rag to dab his cheeks in an attempt to regain his composure. The others were shamelessly staring at the spectacle Cid had caused, eyebrows raised and questions alit in their eyes. Palom and Porom were overwhelmed by a mix of fascination and fear of this burly being, who could have passed for half-human, half-bug with the massive goggles taking up the parts of his face his vermillion beard, loaded down with dirt and twigs, didn't already claim for its own. His stumpy calves weren't much taller than one of the twins themselves, and his sausage-like, generously-callused fingers were wrapped in leather gloves that were falling apart at the seams. Yang and Tellah, who were hanging back partially out of bewilderment, shared a secret look of confusion. Neither of them was sure what they had been expecting when they finally met the famous Cid – but this wasn't exactly what either of them had pictured. Was this really the genius behind Baron's explosive development in these last few decades?

"Where is Rosa?" Cid asked, ignoring everyone else for now – it hadn't escaped him that he was being stared down by a pair of kids that looked ready to be put down for a nap and two strange men, but there was so much he needed to tell Cecil – he figured the lot of them could wait. "She ran off after you – said she was sure you were still alive. But I haven't seen her since."

"She was…taken by Golbez," Cecil confessed, a twinge of pained shame lacing his words. "I couldn't… save her." Cid puffed out his chest and suddenly threw his arms out in the air like a Bomb on Mount Hobs preparing to self-destruct, causing everyone to jump in place.

"While you were with her? How could you let that happen!?" Cecil looked down at the floor and Cid began to pace in circles, his fists clenching. "Hmmph…Golbez, eh? Not enough for him to use my airships for wars nobody asked for – has to go and take Rosa, too!"

"And she is in grave danger," Tellah snapped, having finally run out of patience – and regaining some of his feisty stamina that had been siphoned away from him in the battle. "So, if you wouldn't mind leading us to this flying ship of yours, perhaps we could talk on the way!" Cid spun toward the new voice, wagging his finger menacingly in Tellah's face.

"Who's this testy old-timer think he is, hmmm?"

Tellah snorted and shoved Cid's hand away with the head of his staff, eyes narrowing.

"One might ask the same of you!"

"Me? You're calling me old? Have you looked in a mirror anytime this century?"

Cecil could feel his eyes threatening to roll in the back of his head and had to turn away before his face betrayed the obvious. Porom stepped between the two men, slamming the end of her staff on the floor to get their attention; a petite judge with her gavel demanding order. They both immediately ceased arguing and stared down at her, mouths glued shut.

"Please, let's not argue!" Porom cried. She turned to Cid. "You're Cid, Baron's chief engineer, right?" She then nodded her head toward Tellah. "This is Tellah, a great sage and wizard." She then pointed to Yang, who had been respectfully standing off to the side, not wanting to be dragged into the middle of any more battles for the day – Baigan and Cagnazzo had been quite enough. "And this is Yang, grandmaster of the Fabulian monks. My name is Porom. I am an apprentice mage from Mysidia."

Palom snorted loudly. "Grown old men, acting like children…now I've seen it all."

"The one who doesn't know how to mind his tongue is my twin brother, Palom," Porom added dryly.

"You're just a goody-goody!" Palom snapped.

"And you're just a cad!"

Now it was the twins' turn to bicker – Cecil stepped aside just in time to avoid Porom as she dove for her brother, the room filling with shrieks as hair started getting pulled and stomachs punched. Yang pressed his palms together and bowed to Cid.

"It is an honor to meet you, sir. Cecil has spoken highly of you, and I've been anxious for your safety since our arrival in Baron. But I fear our situation does dictate haste."

"Oh, now here's a man who knows some manners!" Cid boomed appreciatingly. He gave Yang a hearty slap on the back, to which Yang could only bring himself to smile in reciprocation. He feared if he returned the favor, he would have accidentally sent Cid rolling into another dimension.

Cecil crossed his arms and cleared his throat, trying to wrangle back control over the chaotic mess in which they now found themselves.

"Cid, Amelia told me you were being ordered to work on a new airship. Has Golbez already acquired it?"

"Heh heh…he couldn't take something he couldn't find!" Cid grinned. "I've hidden the brand-new one, a state-of-the-art beauty that goes beyond anything I've ever built before in both strength and speed! And of course, I hid where no one would ever think to look. I thought it might come in handy one day to have my own little nook that only I knew about, so..."

"We don't have time for this blathering!" Tellah barked. "Rosa's life is at stake!"

"I know that!" Cid bellowed. "No need to be shouting about it, I heard ya the first time!" Tellah could only offer an incredulous stare – who exactly was the one shouting, here? Cid itched his beard as he stole a glance at Cecil – as hard as Cecil tried to hide his escalating fear about Rosa's fate in the depths of his heart, his eyes, like always, betrayed what he was really thinking – unguarded and as depthless as the abducted crystals, Cid could immediately grasp the wordless agony simmering within. He sheepishly picked up his hammer, turning away before he was driven to tears again – just the thought of Cecil suffering as much as he had, and so far from home, vulnerable and alone, made him want to scream – seeing it in person made him wish Golbez would appear before them right then and there so he could promptly knock all of his teeth out.

"Well then…follow me!" Cid yanked open the throne room door with perhaps a little too much force, ducking through the threshold. Yang followed after, thinking it was best to have at least one body between Cid and Tellah for the time being. Tellah's mustache wrinkled with disapproval as he brushed past Cecil, clicking his tongue.

"I hope that buffoon doesn't think he is coming with us! He'd best just hand over the airship and go straight home."

Cid would sooner die. Cecil kept that thought to himself, not in the mood to stoke the flames in the battle of the ancients. He gestured for Palom and Porom to come along, watching with raised brows as they wordlessly picked themselves up from the floor from where they had been fighting. Palom ran ahead to catch up with Tellah, but Porom paused, pressing her fingers to her lips in thought before swiftly bending down and scooping the ancient shield. Trotting to Cecil's side, she thrust it up at him.

"You should take this along, don't you think?"

"Huh?" Cecil blinked, taking it from her. "This isn't exactly suited for combat – it must be hundreds of years old. All that aside, this was passed down through the king's lineage – it doesn't belong to me. It would go to the king's heir…" He trailed off when he realized what he was saying, biting down on his lip.

But…now there is no heir. His Highness…he was the last of his line.

"Cecil, you told us in the waterway that the king raised you like his own," Porom said softly, pushing up on her toes to shove the shield closer to his chest. "I may have been asleep, but I still felt it when you were protecting us…that divine light, shining just like a crystal – and I could feel it emanating from you. That same holy light is imbued in this relic now – rather than you taking it, I think it's claimed you, instead."

He lowered his gaze as he slid his arm through the straps fastened on the reverse side, realizing it was a perfect fit – and miraculously, light as air. It was petite enough to carry on his person, yet now that he was actually wearing it, he swore he could feel the holy light Porom had described seeping into his marrow, strengthening him from within to withstand most anything. He offered Porom a slight smile in thanks, and she smiled back, easing her fingers into his. Her hand was as delicately formed as a butterfly – as his fingers closed around hers, he was reminded of the night he had rescued Rydia in Kaipo, how he could feel the flutter of her pulse through her palm when she healed him for the very first time. He turned away, exhaling deeply through clenched teeth.

Rydia…Edward…and now His Majesty… It seems no matter how much strength I have gained…none of it was enough to save any of you.

As they crossed into the antechamber, the throne room doors suddenly slammed shut behind them, rattling the candles hanging from the wall so violently that they simultaneously blew out, staining the hall in bruise-colored shadows. Cecil glanced behind his shoulder to ensure no one had followed them – he and Porom had been the last to leave the throne room. But no one else was there, save for the Porom, who had spun on her heel and was glaring at the doors confusedly, her hand still clutching his.

"I felt a chill," Yang frowned. "It must have been the wind blowing through that broken window."

"Ach, and what a mess that's going to be to clean up," Cid moaned, shaking his head. "I'll have to get my boys on it before we depart. I see someone has already taken care of this door."

"Huh?" Cecil gasped, pausing in place. Someone fixed the door to the great hall? He couldn't believe what he was seeing, and thought perhaps the sudden darkness was playing tricks on him – but sure enough, just as Cid had said, the door that had been flattened off its hinges thanks to Baigan barreling through it had been neatly hung back in its frame, like nothing untoward had happened at all. And stranger yet, Baigan's remains had completely disappeared – there wasn't even a dusty haze left behind in the carpet he had taken his last breath upon.

Cid stared up at Cecil, his nose crinkled in confusion as his hand hovered over the latch.

"What is it?"

"You said someone took care of the door – it was broken when you arrived? Did you see anything else strange?"

"Yeah, it was busted," Cid replied slowly, shaking his head. Why was Cecil asking about something so asinine at a time like this? "Didn't see anything else, though – told Andy and Arden to stay behind and help the others that escaped with us – I wasn't sure what I was gonna find in the throne room. Why?"

But as Cecil opened his mouth to reply, a ripple of wicked laughter filled the hall, reverberating from the ground beneath their feet. Palom and Porom shrieked in unison, both leaping to grab hold of Cecil's cape.

"W-what's going on now!?" Cid cried.

"The Drowned King Cagnazzo, deposed!" the laughter continued, a high-pitched scrape assaulting the air like nails dragging down a chalkboard. "But the wicked are not wont to fall alone. In life, I was terrible – in death, steeped in terror greater still. Drink long and deep of it ere you die! I'll save a briny pit for you in hell to meet your liege – mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

"Cagnazzo!" Cecil growled. "Show yourself!"

"How is this happening!?" Palom blanched. "I thought you guys killed him!"

The scraping grew louder, accompanied by a rumbling quake that nearly knocked Cecil to his knees – he had to grasp hold of Yang to keep from falling, who had braced himself in a defensive stance in anticipation of another attack. Blue flames erupted, unbidden, from the candles, and the room blossomed into a quivering pool of eerie light. But now the party could see exactly where the disturbing noises were coming from – it was actually discharging from all around them, and granules of stone and dust were pouring down from above, showering them in a haze of ghostly white. The floor buckled again as the walls on their right and left started to slide out of place, stone shuddering in protest as the carpet lining the aisleway began to disappear inch by precious inch.

"The walls!" Tellah gasped. "They're moving toward us!?"

We've got to get out of here! Cecil thought, bolting back to the throne room and yanking down on the latches. However, neither of the doors would budge – something powerful was sealing them shut on the opposite side, and no matter how hard he pulled, Cecil couldn't get them relent. The blood drained from his face as he fell back, not believing that any of this was real life. He was still sleeping back at the inn, or perhaps had gotten knocked senseless by Cagnazzo – anything else made more sense than this madness. "The doors…they're barred!"

Tellah pushed past Cid and pulled on the doors that would have taken them to the grand hall, slamming his staff when they refused to give.

"These too!" He suddenly grabbed hold of Cid and Yang's hands, nodding toward Cecil. "Quickly, everyone link up – I'm going to use Teleport!"

"Of course!" Porom sniffed happily, she and Palom eagerly clamping back onto Cecil, one twin per leg. Cecil and Yang linked arms, and Tellah lowered his eyes, chanting the spell as his staff began to glow a pale silver.

But when the spell unleashed itself upon them, Cecil felt nothing – it wasn't like at Mount Ordeals, where it had suddenly felt like the world had fallen out from under his feet, and his heart had needed to catch up with the rest of his transported body. He opened one eye cautiously, and saw that they were still in the antechamber – but a version of it that was now several inches narrower.

"S-Something's blocking my magic!" Tellah cried, his glasses slipping down his nose in his panic. "It must be Cagnazzo…!"

"Then we'll push the walls back!" Yang cried, throwing himself against the left wall and leaning into it with his feet planted in the carpet, the veins in his biceps twitching beneath a sheen of sweat as he closed his eyes to concentrate. Cecil ushered the twins into the center of the room before joining Cid and Tellah on the opposite side, Tellah and Cid pushing with their palms while Cecil shoved his back against the wall, utilizing the strength in his legs. But despite their combined efforts, the walls persistently slid closer like clockwork, the four of them eventually growing exhausted and being forced to give up.

What the hell are we going to do? Cecil felt like he was just endlessly turning in circles, his gaze shifting back and forth with each harried scrape that rang out in the air, announcing that they had lost another few precious inches of space. At the rate the walls were closing in, they would be crushed to dust in less than a minute. He took a step backwards, nearly cursing aloud when he smacked into Yang – there was no longer any room for them to stand apart.

Meanwhile, Palom and Porom had huddled together, whispering to each other calmly unbeknownst to the panicking grown-ups. They solemnly nodded in agreement, linking pinkies for a few lingering seconds before breaking apart. Palom ran to the left wall, and Porom to the right, rubbing her hands together and glaring toward the ceiling as if she were about to give Cagnazzo a good telling off.

"Palom, Porom!" Cecil called. What were they doing!? "Get away from there – it's dangerous!"

"Cecil…" Palom shook his head, quickly turning away to hide the tears prickling in the corners of his eyes and pressing his palms against the wall. "We'll miss you."

"It was almost like we had gained an older brother!" Porom sniffled. As she quickly swiped her sleeve across her snotty nose, a tear escaped down her cheek. "Thank you for taking us to Baron – it was fun to see where you grew up."

"What's gotten into you two?" Tellah demanded. "Come here this instant!"

"We won't let you all die like this!" Porom smiled weakly before lowering her chin to her chest and closing her eyes, more tears spilling forth. "Thank you too, Sage Tellah…for everything."

"You'll have to look after Cecil in our place…" Palom's sad smile twitched, blossoming into his trademark smirk as he thought about all the trouble naive, trusting Cecil was going to be in without him to tell him what was up. "And tell the Elder we're sorry, ok?"

"Together, now!" Porom chirped.

"Right!" Palom nodded. "One, two, three…"

"Stop!" Cecil cried. "Whatever, you've got planned, just – !"

"BREAK!"

A white light sparked in the center of the room and split into two, spiraling around each twin in unison. It started at their feet and crossed between their outstretched limbs, running the length of their full height before climbing toward the ceiling and disappearing in a delicate trail of smoke. As the light looped over them and faded away, their skin and clothes transformed into a bleak gray with a porous finish, the life and light draining from their features. Seconds later, the walls smashed into their outstretched hands, but rather than knocking them over, instead came to a grinding halt when the now-petrified twins would not acquiesce. After a few moments of stubborn, reverberating groaning that sent the chamber into another fit of tremors, the walls came to a stand-still, the cursed blue candles flickering all at once and reverting back to their warm, orange glow. With the chamber permanently reduced to a single-file aisleway, the candlelight now seemed too bright…

"Palom…Porom…" Cecil whispered, hesitantly reaching for the little girl and stroking her nub of a ponytail sticking straight out of her head. She was as cold as ice, her silky hair transformed into the hide of a golem. He turned to the others, at a loss for words. Tellah shook his head, shuffling between the twins and raising his staff.

"They turned themselves into stone? Clever little gits… Hold on now, the cure is quite simple…Esuna!"

But for the second time in mere moments, his magic failed him again – nothing happened. Tellah grunted and tried again, golden light filling the hall once more to no effect.

"Is it…Cagnazzo?" Yang blinked, and Tellah shook his head, lowering his staff in confusion.

"…No…it's not the same as before…the magic – nothing is blocking it anymore."

Cid snorted under his breath, barreling between Tellah and Palom as he dug around in a pouch hanging from his toolbelt. "Hmmph, and they call you a great sage? Are you casting it right, you senile thing?" He plucked out a golden needle, a man-made medicine that was the go-to prescription for anyone who had fallen victim to a petrification spell – the monsters in the mountains beyond the Northwoods of Baron were notorious for such shenanigans. Pulling the cap off of the syringe, Cid plunged it into Palom's arm without hesitation, shooting Tellah a victorious smirk.

However, the tip of the needle broke off with a delicate ring that echoed in the air as soon as it hit Palom's skin, and the glimmering contents spilled out onto the floor, pooling at Palom's feet before sinking into the carpet and disappearing. Cid's smirk transformed into an open-mouthed gape, his eyes bulging.

"W-w-what!? In all my years, I've never…! Must have gotten a dud!" He dug back into his pouch again, pawing more frantically this time, but Yang gently rested his hand on Cid's shoulder, shaking his head.

"It will be no use," he said softly. "I've heard about this before in my studies and training – magic, black magic in particular, is made more powerful by the will of the user. Palom and Porom turned to stone of their own free will – they wanted to protect us at any cost. I fear there is no cure any of us can administer."

"…What?" Cecil shook his head, turning to Tellah. "That can't be true, right? Tell me that's not possibly true!" But Tellah refused to meet his stare, and Cecil fell back against the wall in disbelief, sinking down next to Porom.

This can't be happening…not again. Not after finally getting somewhere with our pursuit of Golbez…

NOT. AGAIN!

"Fools…" Tellah muttered. "…If any of us had to die, it ought to have been me!"

"They were…only children…" Yang closed his eyes. "I'll pray for them… It's all any of us can do now."

Cid crushed the empty golden needle between his fingers and cursed, tossing it aside. "Nah, there's lots more we can do…I'll fire up the Enterprise, and we'll avenge 'em both! I won't stand for this treachery…no, Baron won't stand for it!"

Cecil couldn't bring himself to stop staring at Porom, still too stunned to believe that she had been holding his hand one second, and was then suddenly gone the next. Yang had placed his hand on Palom's tiny hunched shoulders, muttering a prayer under his breath for the boy who would never again crack a wildly inappropriate joke, or beam proudly after firing off a spell mages three times his age could only dream of mastering, or get in a knockdown, drag-out fight with his twin over something ridiculously petty.

Those two were something wholly innocent and good in a world that's becoming more and more twisted with darkness each passing day, Cecil lamented. Palom, Porom – I'll carry your light with me from this day forth…everything it was that you set out to do – I promise to achieve in your stead!

He suddenly slammed his fist into the floor and glared up at the ceiling, the scream tearing from his core before he could think to stop himself.

"You WILL answer for all of this, Golbez!"