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Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time

Book 1: The Beginning

Chapter 5 - Maidens of the Sea

Part 5.7 - Shore of Oblivion

"Duuuuuune..."

That voice...

"Dune. Wake up, Dune."

A sweet voice trickled across Dune's senses, bringing him back into a world of light and warmth.

"Who...?"

A soft but forceful swish of peaceful waves washed across Dune's mind, silencing him and putting him at complete ease despite his growing concerns of where he was and what was going on.

Feeling like there was nothing at all to be afraid of here, Dune opened his eyes like a dreamer waking from some deep nightmare. He saw what he thought was the Mordic at first, but realized he must be mistaken. This was no vision of sterile, somber beauty. This place was lush, alive.

He was lying on a beach, the clean blue waters of a limitless ocean lapping at his heels in a gentle caress. Behind him stood a vibrant jungle of fronds and grasses, as tall as trees, and as bright green as emeralds. The beach itself was filled with bright white sand, with blades of rich foliage poking up here and there where the tides allowed. An enormous seagull cawed a greeting to him from the cloudless skies, circling him as if it were waiting just for him to awaken. Small crabs danced at his feet, waving and clacking their claws at him as if to just say "hello" to their new friend. The friendliness here was infectious, and Dune soon found himself smiling as he waved back at the little crabs.

A cool breeze blew up from the waters and washed over Dune, filling his lungs with an invigorating dose of salty sea air. He gulped it down like water and got to his knees, feeling more alive here than he had anywhere in his entire life. He stayed on his knees, staring out into the hypnotic waves as if in a trance. Dune had a whole new appreciation for the beauty Bismark saw in the wide open seas.

Am I dead? Is this...

"No...and yes."

Dune spun around as the sound of a woman's voice behind him answered his thoughts. But there was no one. He had heard that voice somewhere before.

"There is nothing to fear here. That is all you need to know."

Dune now turned back towards the ocean, and thought he saw a shimmering shape hovering over the waves. He tried to focus his vision, but whatever was there had vanished in a playful giggle.

"My dear child of the sands, you have been through so much, and yet this is still only the beginning for you. Will you stand?"

Dune attempted to stand, but fell back, a terrible twisting pain in his back keeping him down on his knees.

"My poor child! I weep for your pain..."

A warm breeze swept over Dune, and a gentle sea rain fell around him. Dune licked his lips and tasted the slight tang of salt in the drops of rain.

"The Tears of Elia. Drink, and be healed of your sorrows."

Dune complied, and did his best to collect the precious drops in his cupped hands. He looked at the sparkling liquid in his palms, then drained it. The water flowed through him working its miraculous powers on both his mind and body. He felt a sharp tug at his insides where the knife had pierced him, as if the water was pulling the injured flesh together. He felt the water work its way into his mind, and then felt a horrible sensation of being torn in two, like before, at the bottom of the Mordic.

"I am sorry Dune. Some wounds are too deep, even for my powers." The voice was full of genuine sorrow, and almost made Dune weep himself. He knew what wound that was.

"Doom," Dune replied in a cold, dead voice.

"It's a horrible affair, isn't it? We, brothers and sisters born of purity and innocence, now infected with the very prejudices we sought to destroy..."

Dune listened to the voice, not fully understanding her, but being soothed by the sweet sadness of its sound.

"Let this be a lesson, child. There is no escaping the Balance. We are all part of it, from the smallest grain of sand to the mightiest force of nature."

The voice paused, and Dune ventured a question, wondering what right he had, but knowing he must try, he must know.

"Who are you?"

"I am the smallest ripple of the smallest pond and the highest wave in the vastness of all the seas. I am the quiet summer's rain in the deepest forest and the mighty roar of the tallest falls. I am sorrow and joy, a fundamental part of all life. I am the Maiden of Water.

"Elia?" Dune whispered, humbled by the myth made real.

"A name. You may call me it if you like. I have many others."

"I..."

A soft laugh, as rich and pure as the water he had drank, tickled his senses.

"You don't believe," the voice said not unkindly, "Faith is a powerful force, Dune. Someday you will realize having faith means more than believing in magic and silly stories."

Dune did not understand, but something inside him told him every word this voice spoke was true. He must find out what it all meant, a voice inside him pushed him further. The relentless voice of reason.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Believe. Not in me, not in magic." The voice spoke with a touch of urgency.

"What then? Tell me!"

"Just believe, Dune. You will find your faith. You must."

All the riddles and questions were enough for Dune. Why couldn't someone tell him what was happening? Why wouldn't anyone tell him anything?

"Why not! What must I do to get the answers to my questions? I'm tired of wandering blind in the dark. Do you hear me? I'm sick of it! Tell me, now! I demand to know!"

A swirl of colors blurred Dune's vision, smearing the paradisial image of the beach into a rainbow of bright blues and whites and greens. Then the swirl darkened, darkened until the only hue left was a cold blue. Not the rich living blue of Elia's beach, but the dead paleness of a frozen corpse. The colors of Doom.

"Believe..."

And then the warmth was gone from Dune's eyes, and his soul.

There was no struggling with the powerful entity clawing at him, dragging him down further and further. He was trapped once again in the cold prison of Cocytus.

"Ah, my emissary. You look well. I shall have to do something about that. Come to me, child."

Before Dune could speak a word of defiance, he was thrust before the towering form of his dark master. The look of smugness oozing from the hideous deathmask that was the remnants of Doom's face increased as Dune was brought within a few feet of it. The blue mass of stinking flesh filled Dune's vision, choking out any will to resist. What might have been a smile worked its way out from the mass of scarred tissue in the center. Dune hated this being, and hated himself for being so easily drawn into its clutches again.

"Yessssss..." the voice rasped from somewhere deep inside Dune's mind, "Hate me. Hate yourself. Let it consume you. I will be watching, and savoring your hatred."

Dune closed his eyes tight to block out the face of death in front of him, but there was no blocking the ripe stench of rotting flesh pouring from the pile of filth he had only glimpsed from below before. He gulped hard and pushed out his words, fighting for each breath as he did. He would stand his ground.

"You don't own me. Nobody owns me. I am my own Master. I felt it, just a little while ago."

Dune paused, catching his breath, careful not to take in too much at once, or the reek of decay would defeat him. Doom remained silent, but his pride and arrogance flowed forth in a commanding answer to each of his words, filling Dune with more and more hate for this place and this thing.

"I subdued it. The crystal tried to control me and I fought. And won." Dune smiled as best he could, but the arrogance still flowed over him, untainted by Dune's own.

"It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game, my pawn. And you are playing MY game. Don't forget it!"

The face exhaled a fierce breath full against Dune, sending him headlong into the dark abyss of his own mind. The smell of death was almost too much as it sank into his skin, infecting him, violating him. He couldn't take the feeling of desecration invading his soul and cried out. He cried out for Mae. He cried out for his Captain, for Elia. Anyone who would listen.

But the only answer was Doom's taunting voice, echoing off the walls of oblivion that suffocated him.

"Remember who your Master is, my child. Oh, and do say hello to my brother of the long breath. I hear he is quite enjoying himself at the moment. Hahahahaha..."

The laugh pierced Dune's mind like a frozen shard of pure spite, and he went numb, mindless and bodiless.

After an eternity of darkness, Dune woke with a violent start, his body forcing him to realize where he was before his mind could catch up. Instincts surged and Dune flailed his arms and coughed up bitter water. He was alive, but by no means out of the water yet.

Dune gasped as he took what might have been the first breath of his entire life, and then looked around with wild, animal-like eyes. He was back above the surface of the water, but something was not right. There was no light, and a horrible roaring sound was filling the waters all around him. It was the roar of some unimaginable beast in pain, or perhaps that was just Dune's overwrought imagination as he tried to make sense of the sights and sounds battering his senses. He didn't have time to wonder what world he had be tossed into now. He still wore his heavy suit, and with the grace of a frightened deer pulled it off as he struggled to keep afloat in the windswept waters.

There was a storm raging now, and not just any storm. One glance up above at the black sky and grasping tendrils and he knew this was the storm from the Thanas, the storm from his worst nightmares. As if sensing the newest arrival to its frenzy, the storm swirled tightly and a magnificent spiral of dense greyness twisted its way down from the sky, threatening to suck Dune up into the storm's hungry maw and devour him at last. The defier had returned, and vengeful judgement was in every curl of the storm's features.

Dune swam for all he was worth - anywhere, nowhere. Where could he go? Where was the Maiden of the Sea? Even the Golden Goddess's bright gaudiness would be a relief beyond words. But there was nothing but the storm, and it had seen Dune and now reached out for him to snatch him up.

"Eliaaaaa!"

It was all Dune could think of to say. The storm seemed to wince at the name, the fingering spiral extending from it coming to an abrupt stop only a few dozen yards away from Dune's helpless form. The waterspout soon started up again, filled with some new purpose as it swarmed over top Dune despite his most vigorous attempts to escape. Dune let out a low defeated moan as the storm plucked him out of the water and sent him cascading up into the heart of the hated storm. This was surely the end for Dune. The storm had won after all. He closed his eyes and waited for the gales to slice him to ribbons and scatter his remains to the farthest reaches of the seas.