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Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time

Book 1: The Beginning

Chapter 5 - Maidens of the Sea

The Serpent Trench. Deep beneath its peaceful waves lies a powerful current that guides all travelers northward. Sailors claim this current is the breath of a colossal beast, pushing would-be intruders away from its lair. Curiously, recent dives into the deeper parts of the trench have uncovered giant serpent-like creatures similar to the blind anguiform eel, but several times their length. As is their wont, the locals who discovered the creatures have dubbed them "Latimeria" after the legendary sea serpent said to span the length of a mountain range, and devour all who trespassed into her domain. Superstitions aside, the source of this mighty stretch of warm waters is still a mystery, even to me.

-From Our Strange World, by Cid del Norte Marguez, 981 PW

Part 5.1 - Shore of Memories

It was another peaceful day along the endless shores of an uneventful stretch of sand. The sun shone hotly across the glistening white sand with only the occasional rock, dredged up by storms long past, breaking the monotony of the beach. There were no lazily waving palm trees here, and no sea creatures happily playing in the balmy seas or flying through the bright blue cloudless skies. No life of any kind roamed these forgotten shores.

One lone individual was wearily making his way across the desolate beach, a figure very much out of place in this sterile paradise. He stepped slowly, stopping every once and a while to remove his weather-beaten hat and stare at the blank face of the rising morning sun. A small flash of light shone from his eyes as he looked up into the sun. He smiled a weary, but not unpleasant, smile as he watched the sun rise over the quietly ebbing ocean horizon.

"I guess there's one thing I like about the ocean," the man spoke to himself quietly, "the sunrises are breathtaking."

Dune stood still for a few moments in quiet appreciation of the new day, then hurried on his way. There was no time to waste, and the Captain would be upset if he was late. It had been a long three weeks in confinement under Narsille, and the chance to finally see the rising sun and feel the fresh morning air on his skin was something he could not pass up. The dark, cold halls of Narsille's underground city felt like a fading dream as he stood on the pleasantly warm sand and squinted into the sun. Yes, this is what he had been eagerly waiting for ever since he had been all but kidnapped by the Committee for his own protection, or so they claimed. Dune knew the truth though, or at least most of it, he thought. As he made his way back to where Captain Bismark was no doubt fuming over his absence, he reflected back on his stay in Narsille for what he hoped would be the last time in a long while.

Not much had happened after his eventful encounter with Sade in the deepest parts of the Order of the Pearl. He had not seen or heard from Sade himself, and his restricted movements kept him in the dark on the happenings above ground as well. The television set in his room was his only real connection to the outside world, and he saw nothing but the same old news reports of everyday life. Many of the things he once saw as interesting now seemed pale and mundane, thanks to his experience in the meeting hall of the Order. How could these people go about their boring existence with such horrible secrets going on right underneath their feet? Dune felt something akin to contempt for these happily naive people wandering the streets above him, unaware of the demons lurking in their perfect city of dreams. He wanted to go back up there and join them again, but with the words of Sade and the prophecy echoing through his thoughts he knew this couldn't happen. He very much wanted to see Mae again, but he wondered if his memory of her too, would be tainted by his experiences down here. He hoped not, and cursed Sade for bringing all this on him. Yes, in the end it was Sade who masterminded everything that had happened to him, and was still holding the strings by which he currently hung, wasn't it? His normally logical mind fully grabbed onto this idea, and happily placed all blame on squarely on that dark man and his evil schemes, without once considering how much of this could have been avoided by his own free will. In his mind, Dune had done nothing wrong and was simply a victim of circumstance. He would play Sade's games a little longer, but the time was coming when he would finally stand up and fight for his freedom.

It was these dark thoughts that haunted him on this bright morning. The icy charm he still wore underneath his shirt knew better though. It knew all of Dune's secret thoughts and desires, and knew it had Dune in its crystalline jaws. Let the fool think Sade is his biggest problem. Let him blame that man for all his problems if it eases his mind. Let him scorn the very cloth from which he was cut if it eases his heart. Let his arrogance and pride swell and build until it consumes him and bursts forth in an explosion of cold hate. Only then will he truly be one with the essence of the crystal, and only then will he be a fit heir to the powers of Doom. For now the crystal slept, waiting for the time when Dune would be in need of a reminder of its power over him. Yes, play the game a little longer, for it is only a little longer until the real game begins.

As the sun rose in the sky and Dune hurried along the sands with his heavy burdens, another man was watching the morning with an equally appreciable eye, and equally heavy burdens. Captain Bismark stood on the deck of his ship, the Maiden of the Sea, and watched as the milky rays of the sun danced over the still sleeping ocean spread out before him. A look of complete contentment shone on his face as he looked out over the vast field of blue. A look of belonging. This was his home, as it always had been. He made sure to greet every day just like this when he was out to sea. He quietly stood alone with his arms folded behind his back, his one eye carefully regarding the day's newest arrival as its face peaked over the waves.

"You're late, as always, old friend," he said to no one in particular, and smiled a toothy grin.

Beating the sun was a ritual of Bismark's that was almost as old as he was. It was his first victory of the day, and as long as he could beat the sun, he felt he could beat anything. It was this unwavering confidence that fill him with the energy he needed to fulfill his formidable role as captain. His crew seemed to feed off this energy, and wherever he went, an aura of high spirits and motivation followed. They would die for him, no questions asked.

Captain Bismark knew this well, and he had as much respect for his crew as his did his beloved ship. He would not let them down this time around. The stakes were higher this time, and he worried if this would be the last peaceful dawn he would be allowed to see until he returned from his latest voyage. The Mordic Sea. That was no place for any sane sailor, and yet here he was on the verge of embarking right into the very heart of it. He would never choose to sail into those tainted waters willingly. He knew as well as Dune that he had no choice but the follow the Committee's orders and find this artifact they wanted so badly. He also knew he would be accompanied by his old friends Indra and Alex on this cursed journey. He knew nothing of his other, less welcome "old friend" for the time being though. If he had, the rising sun would no doubt look as pale and forgotten to him as the waning moon before it. Alex and Indra had been wise to save Bismark the problem of Jonah Levi. No point injecting that poison until absolutely necessary.

As Bismark stood watching the sun, one of his crew members climbed onto the deck from the quarters below and approached him.

"Captain Bismark, sir, all preparations are complete. We're ready to set sail as soon as you give the order."

"Good. As soon as our new arrivals get here, we can set sail for the Mordic. Alex and Indra should be making there way here any minute. Dune should have been back by now. What's taking him so long to get back? Sometimes I think that damn fool must have sand for brains. I can't blame him for his eagerness to take one last walk on dry land though. He's about as ship-shape as a cactus." Captain Bismark let out a loud laugh and settled back into his position of quiet reflection.

"That'll be all, Connor. I'll give the signal to depart as soon as everyone's here. Be ready!"

"Yes, sir!" Connor quickly made his exit and left the Captain to his thoughts.

Yes, Dune was a real piece of work alright. No one had a love of science and what it stood for more than him. He would be one hell of an archeologist some day. Too bad he couldn't appreciate the open sea the way he appreciated a handful of dirt. Captain Bismark had tried to convince Dune that the sea held as many wonders as the land, but it was no use. Something had happened to that man that made the mere mention of the word "water" send shivers down his spine. The last time he had set sail with Dune on board had been a disaster, at least from Dune's perspective. Bismark thought that journey was actually rather tame compared to some of his excursions into the high seas, but Dune thought the world was coming to an end that day. He had no idea just how perilous and unforgiving the sea could be. Dune was worried about this mission, as Bismark knew, but not as much as he should be. The Mordic was no place for experienced seamen, let alone landlubbers like Dune. If Dune knew even half of what was in store for him, he surely would never have agreed to come along, even against the orders of the Committee. The Mordic was no place for man or beast.

Yet, a part of Bismark looked forward to this new adventure with grim excitement. He had never personally gone into the deepest parts of the Mordic himself, only heard the numerous tales of woe from drunken sailors in bars. What was scary was how similar every account was, no matter who he listened to or how much booze was in them. Storms appearing out of no where and tearing ships apart as if guided by some supernatural force. Monstrous beasts and demons rising from the water or appearing out of thin air to terrorize unfortunate sailors. Vast stretches of vile, poisonous water that ate at the very hulls of ships. And many more tales that seemed too horrible to be true, and yet Bismark believed there was some truth to all of them, and many more horrors that no man lived through to pass on. He knew because he had seen the haggard, almost soulless looks in the faces of those men, and knew they had been though something undefinable and real. Something almost too evil for words. He knew because he knew of something else. He knew of the Prophecy as surely as Dune. It was he who had helped uncover it, after all, along with Alex and Indra, almost thirty years ago. The dark days surrounding that tale would remain locked in his mind until he was long dead, though. Some tales were not fit to be shared around a pint of ale. There was great evil in this world, and the Mordic was a prime source of much of that evil. And here he was sailing right into it.

Suddenly the sunrise held no more interest to him, and an intangible darkness passed over him like a second eye patch. He turned away from the indifferent waves and walked back down below deck to help prepare for departure. Moments after he left the deck, a second ship appeared in the distance, quickly nearing the stationary Maiden of the Sea. Another old friend was rising over the horizon, eager to greet the Captain on this fine day, perhaps the last fine day for a long, long time.