~x~
Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time
Book 1: The Beginning
Chapter 6 - Omens of the Past
As startlingly blank as the pages of history before the War of the Magi are, who is to say there aren't further stories buried even further back? How many times has the cycle repeated? Perhaps this cataclysm that befell us was, in fact, only the most recent of many. If this is the case, then the world may not be quite as irreparably devastated as we believed. With the great reconstruction just beginning, my desire to see this new world of ours has been rekindled. Many strange and wondrous ruins of truly ancient origin were unearthed in the Collapse, some of which seem to predate the War of the Magi. What untold sagas, what unfathomable truths about our world might be waiting in these artifacts from the dawn of civilization? It is time I began my penance, and started the great work of my life.
-From A Return to Life, by Cid del Norte Marguez, 5 AF
Part 6.1 - The Ritual
"Jehad."
A man dressed from head to toe in silvery white robes was kneeling before a massive winged statue at the center of a great hall, oblivious to everything around him as he prayed. His head was bowed in deep reflection, his long white hair drooping over his face as he murmured holy verse. He did not hear his name being called from the altar at the front of the hall.
"Jehad, it is time. Rise, my son."
Ahead of the praying man and the glowing statue was a raised dais covered in red cloth. A frail man bent over with extreme old age stood at the foot of the dais, his back to a strange white object as he waited for Jehad to respond. The object behind him was a giant pearl, now pulsing with a pure white light that basked the holy father with a divine aura. The flowing robes he wore were as white as the pearl's glow, but also glowed with the shimmer of mythril trim and intricate gold designs sewn into the fabric. The same designs covered the entire hall from ceiling to floor.
The old man walked over to the magnificent statue Jehad kneeled before, his steps brisk. The holy father was a patient man, but Jehad was now sorely testing his limits. He could understand and appreciate Jehad's dedication, and the gravity of the coming ritual was not lost on either man, but when the High Elder of the Order of the Pearl called, it was a priest's duty to respond immediately and with the proper respect. Not a hint of the impatience he felt showed on the holy father's face as he placed a gentle hand on Jehad's shoulder.
Like a man coming out of a trance, Jehad slowly turned his head to meet the holy father's kind gaze. Cold, gray eyes rose to meet soft blue ones. Jehad blinked once, then quickly stood up straight and gave a low bow of reverence to his Elder.
"Forgive me, Father. I was praying to the Holy Master for divine protection during the coming trial. I am worried, and prayer soothes my nerves."
"Do not worry, Jehad. Our fates all lie in His hands tonight. The Pearl of Order offers us its purifying light as a show of faith to all believers. As long as it glows white, the world is at peace, and we are safe. Remember this, and be at ease."
Jehad let his gaze shift to the pulsing orb behind the Elder. It's soft glow filled the room with an invisible veil of warmth and protection, and Jehad felt a great weight lift off his shoulders. The holy father was right, there was nothing to worry about as long as the Holy Master watched over them.
"Is everything ready, then? We leave tomorrow, at dawn?"
"Yes. You will leave for the Nacropolis at that time with the Offering. I have assigned you an entourage of scholars that have requested to be present during the ceremony. They will serve as both guides and bodyguards while you are with them. They are all strong, moral men that are highly regarded in the academic circles. I believe they will serve you well on your journey. Show them the same respect you would show me."
"I understand, Father."
"This is the last time we will see each other for a while, Jehad. It is my duty to hand you the Offering personally before the Pearl of Order. Please, follow me."
The Elder turned and walked back up the dais where the Pearl of Order rested. Jehad followed, giving the Elder respectful distance as he approached the most sacred artifact of the Order. No one but the Elder was permitted to approach the Pearl, and no one but the Elder knew its true origin or purpose. Jehad stopped at the base of the dais and watched with rapt attention as the Elder performed a ritual that had not been witnessed for a hundred years. He was honored beyond words to be here, and to be an actual part of this time-honored tradition.
Upon reaching the relic, the Elder carefully put his hands on its surface, gently caressing its clear, faultless surface. Speaking in a language known only to him, he seemed to reach into the Pearl itself, and pull out at string of quickly solidifying fluid, or perhaps this was only a trick of eyes blinded by the growing rays of light pouring from the Pearl. Whatever it was, the Elder was now silent, and had in his hands a string of eight smaller pearls, like a necklace, all shining with the same blinding light of the Pearl of Order. He finished the incantation with a final word, "Al-Shinjuo!" spoken louder than the rest. The blinding light of the necklace snapped backwards into the centers of each small pearl, restoring the room to its previous soft glow. He sighed to himself as if the weight of the entire world rested inside the fragile string of pearls, and turned to Jehad with the most serious look the priest had ever seen on his face.
"Jehad, this is the Nacre, a divine jewel made from the very essence of the Pearl of Order. I entrust it to you as the Offering. Deliver it to the Nacropolis safely, and follow your orders as I have given them to you. As long as you follow my words, the Pearl will be kept from turning black and the world will remain at peace. This is the most important duty any member of the Order can hope to be granted, and the Pearl has chosen you as the most worthy among us all to carry it out. Do not let us down."
Jehad was overwhelmed with the responsibility he had been given. He was merely a simply priest, not a hero! He replied as humbly as he could in the face of such honor.
"My Father, I will receive this Offering with the Holy Master's blessing, and deliver it safely to its rightful location. May the Order be blessed by my success."
The Elder seemed satisfied with his response, and handed him the Nacre. He looked at Jehad with what looked like sadness, and said, "Jehad, now go. Know that you are the most devout of us all, and it has been an honor to watch you grow and receive the infinite blessing of the Holy Master. He will surely not forget your devotion. Remember his love and benevolence always, and you will never fear the darkness. Good-bye, my son."
Jehad nodded without speaking, and slowly left the great hall, briefly stopping by the statue to offer one last prayer before moving on to his great destiny. The Elder's eyes followed him out.
"Poor fool. May Altimus guide your soul," the Elder said to himself, still looking intently at the great doors, now shut. The Elder alone new the true weight of this ritual, and the true horror. He knew he would never see Jehad again, the ritual demanding not just the Nacre, but the life of its bearer as well. This was the most highly kept secret of the Order, only known to the Elder himself. A dark and barbaric sacrifice, but a necessary evil to ensure the stability of the entire world. The dark poison that had filled the Nacropolis's halls for thousands of years must not be allowed to spread, and only the Nacre and a worthy soul to bear it kept the Dark Master's vileness in check. Surely one brave soul every hundred years was worth the souls of all life on the planet?
The Elder sighed heavily again, the same old problem vexing his tired mind. He had hoped not to live to bear his favorite pupil to his death, but the anniversary of the great cataclysm that befell their former home had arrived before his own demise, and the ritual would not wait on a mere mortal's whims. He only hoped Jehad would forgive him, and forgive the Order for its dark secret that the young priest had unknowingly groomed himself for all his life.
"Poor fool," the Elder muttered again, and made his way back towards his study, to further contemplate the mysteries of life, and the necessity for evil in a world supposedly guided by the hand of righteousness.