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Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time

Book 1: The Beginning

Chapter 8 - Dream's End

Part 8.17 - Exodus

While Dune had his fateful meeting above the clouds, the desperate populace of Narsille struggled to flee their dying city before it was too late. For far too many, the city had become their grave, but hundreds of thousands of Narsillians still clogged the staging area between the great mythril gates in a last desperate attempt to live. Among these survivors was Mae, and she was beside herself with grief, and shame.

The giant mass of people moved slowly away from the city and into the mountainous country-side in an ever-expanding wave, every person marching to their own sad thoughts. Among the many stories of loss and suffering to be found here, few were as profound as that of the raven-haired ghost that flitted through the crowd silently. Some people tried to comfort the obviously stricken young woman, but she only shook them off and continued the torturously long walk to safety. She had to keep moving. She had to get as far away from this nightmare as possible. She feared no matter how much distance she put between herself and this place, though, the wretched choice she had made would follow her forever.

She knew she would be dead right now if it wasn't for him. She knew he had saved her. And she knew who he was - had known the moment he entered her room. Even if he hadn't been wearing that same dusty hat, and even if she hadn't seen the strange black crystal hanging from his neck. Even if she hadn't noticed the broken glasses tucked away in the remains of his terribly familiar clothing, she still would have known it was him. And yet, she had turned away, had refused to believe what was happening. Some truths were just too much to accept.

Mae glanced up from her thoughts at the towering silhouette swimming through the ocean of bodies ahead of her. It was the Figaro, slowly trundling down the steeply sloping plains outside of Narsille as it too escaped the disaster still exploding behind them. It had been beaten and burnt in its narrow escape from the underground, but it was a tough old thing, built for the ages. This lone sentinel, the greatest of Alex Figaro's achievements, would survive as a final battered reminder of the once great Narsille.

The great fortress-like vehicle stirred up unpleasant memories in Mae's mind. It was a bitter soup of emotions, but she would have to swallow it all if she was to survive. The first thing she had to admit to herself was the hardest, but it could not be ignored any more than the massive Figaro in front of her. She had abandoned her husband. This was an undeniable truth.

Something horrible had happened to Dune, and instead of staying by his side, she had ran. She would have thought the sight of that vicious brute an impossible hallucination, if not for the strange serpent-like apparition that had floated past her window just a few hours before. Her home was a den of monsters now, and Dune was one of them.

Oh Dune, why couldn't you just have stayed with me? What mad call led you to this?

But a happy, peaceful life between them was not to be, and Mae had to accept that or go insane. Dune was beyond her now, and she just was not strong enough to accept him as he was. The decision had been made, and there was no going back, for her or for Dune. Her husband was dead to her, and a long lonely road awaited her. Mae wiped away the steadily flowing tears and picked up her pace, determined to make it back to the nearby village of her birth where her mother would be waiting for her. That, at least, was the same as always, and right now that was exactly what the newly widowed Mae Karn needed most.

As Mae turned her back on the city of her love for the last time, a great cry went up from the back of the procession leaving the city. Something new was happening in the city, and from the sound of things, it was some new horror. Mae turned to look back at her former home and saw the great storm pitch and churn with increased fury, flailing out at the defenseless city like a man on fire.

Why bother, storm? There's nothing left there to destroy. Your work is done. Go away.

Suddenly, several bright lights shot out from the maddening cloud like missiles. One by one they disappeared over the horizon, heading south. Each light left a long glowing trail as it frantically sped away from the death throes of the city. Mae might have been the only person in the vast crowd to recognize those lights in the skyfor what they really were. Dune had left a similar trail behind him as he rocketed through the city with her in his arms. Those were more monsters, spreading out from the corpse of Narsille like a disease. Mae silently groaned in futility, wondering if there was any place in the world that would be safe now.

As Mae watched the strange lights fade into the distance, a grinding roar began to rise behind her. For a moment, the entire movement of people froze as the final sign that they were now truly cast out sounded around them. The great mythril gates, the pride of Narsille, were closing for good. Surely there was no one left inside the watchtowers to man the gates, and yet they slid back into their shut position as if some great poltergeist was controlling them. After several agonizing minutes, the softly glowing gates slammed together with a sickening thud that shook the air, sealing the city off from the rest of the world.

There had still been people trying to make their way through the passage, even as the gates crushed them to death in their mammoth jaws. It was just one more senseless tragedy piled onto the heap, and the tired populace was too numb to even mourn the last unlucky victims of the destruction of Narsille. With the same dogged determination, the remainder of the people of Narsille continued their slow walk away from the city.

Mae, too, watched with a detached view as the gates shut. There was nothing left in her to grieve for even more lost souls. It was just too much for any human to take in. She simply turned away from the sealed city and continued with the rest of the survivors. As she walked, she watched the skies for any more lights. Perhaps one of them would be Dune? No...best not to even think of such things anymore.

As Mae watched the skies, hoping and dreading what she might see, a strange rippling began spreading across the black storm clouds. Like a mirage, the cloud began to shimmer and fade. In just a few brief seconds, the massive blackness twisted and sputtered right out of existence. A few lingering threads of haze evaporated away, and then there was nothing but puffy, white clouds moving across the sky. These were normal clouds, not the roiling black presence that had besieged the city for so long, and they brought with them the natural weather of the region, not the hate-filled rainfall of the cursed storm.

A small, delicate snowflake slowly floated across Mae's vision, and she felt the cool sensation of falling snow on her skin. She held out her hand and let one of the fragile messengers fall into her palm, melting away under her warmth. Yes, it was a cold world out here, but that warmth told her she was still alive. The long night was finally over, and dawn was quickly approaching, heralded by the gentle snowfall around her. It would soon be a new day, a new life, for Mae. It was a life without her beloved Dune and without her home, but it was a life all the same. As the heavens wept their frozen tears for all that had been lost, Mae let herself cry one last time for her former world, then pushed forward, into the rising sun and an uncertain future.

While Mae wept her bitter tears, Dune silently descended from Merkabah like a falling star, his strength ebbing at the recent trials he had forced on his wounded body. Bahamut's vicious attack had left a gash that would not heal easily, and with every breath Dune felt his magical energies weaken. He struggled to steer his body away from the burning plains that now covered Narsille, and out of the city. Globes of blue blood dripped below him into the seething cauldron, hissing as they burned away.

Dune knew he would not be able to stay aloft for long, but he had to make it to the entrance of the city. Gripping his side in pain and trying to hold back the bleeding, he put on a final burst of power, and propelled himself over the now tightly shut gates.

That last push was all he had left, and it would have to be enough. Dune watched helplessly as his body tumbled out of the city like a thrown stone, arcing over the heads of many dazed humans. Some looked up with glazed eyes devoid of emotion, most no longer had the energy to care about what was happening around them. Dune knew how they felt, and wanted nothing more than to be carried off alongside this throng.

But they were forever separated from him. Dune was an Esper, and they were humans. From now on, he would have to hide himself, sneaking from town to town under the cover of night until he found some place he could call home. This was to be Dune's life now - an exile, an outcast. The sooner he accepted it, the sooner he could move on and perhaps yet do something for this world. The world would reject him wherever he went, but there were still people out there that needed him.

Dune's broken body landed far away from the crowd of refugees, and for a while, he merely lay there on his back, staring into the now mostly clear sky. A few harmless clouds chugged along, dropping their white payload onto the earth. Dune felt the snow on his hard skin, and it felt almost warm compared to his own body. Another oddity of his new life he would have to get used to in the coming times. Perhaps it would be better to just stay here, and let the snow bury him...

As soon as these hopeless thoughts entered Dune's mind, he felt the Nacre still around his neck send a reproving jolt up his spine. Yes, he knew he could not give up, but it would be so much easier!

With a terrific effort, Dune rolled over and shook the snow off himself like a bear. He got to his knees, and stood on all fours for a moment, gathering his strength. The cold snow seemed to ease his pains, but the wound still shone across his side. He needed to recover his strength, and it seemed the chilly mountains that surrounded his former home might be the safest place for him now.

Dune staggered to his feet and began walking north, around the city walls and into the vast range of icy peaks looming over him. He passed several beasts of the mountains as he walked. Burly, blue-furred vomammoths, silvery lobo wolves, scampering poison-filled were-rats...these strange creatures would be Dune's companions now. He was a beast, just like them, and they paid little attention to their newest addition.

Dune moved his hand over the precious magicite remains of Titan now in his possession. Its silent warmth comforted him, reminding him that he was not completely alone here in the wild. Perhaps the murdered Esper would call out to him after its long silence in the hands of Genju. Perhaps it found the claws of Maduin already too bloodied, and would never open up to him. Only the gods themselves knew what fate was in store for the tired Esper. And perhaps even they did not truly know what the Esper of No One would do next.

One thing Dune knew with absolute certainty - he was finally free. The Lord of Merkabah had decreed that Dune was a unique creature, free from the meddling of both the Fallen Masters and the True Masters. He was free to choose his own path in this strange new world of magic. The only question was how Dune would use this unprecedented freedom. Would he save the world or forsake it? Could he still save his friends? What of Mae, and all the other humans who would soon be dragged into this expanding war of the gods?

Only Dune would be able to answer these questions. He was an Esper with no Master but himself now. He knew it was time to put his old life behind him. Dune Karn must vanish from the pages of history, and only the Esper Maduin would remain to carry on the hopes and dreams of the man he once was.

Maduin took one final look behind him as he slowly and painfully made his way up into the frozen north. A few people on the outskirts of the mass of exiles caught an eerie glimpse of the fading figure as his blue eyes shone through the falling snow, like some ghostly giant in the mist. The eyes blinked, and then were gone as the first few rays of the steadily rising sun struck them.

A new day had come to the world, as it always must. The old world had ended, and this day would usher in a turbulent age of Gods and Magic, of Espers and Mages.

The Goddess War had begun.

Epilogue

Few records remain of the innocent time before the rise of magic. The great burning of Doma's legendary libraries saw to that. All we have left now are bits of folklore and myth, and a few precious scraps of lore passed down by the Thamasans.

What kind of world was it? Was it a peaceful world or a world of turmoil? Who were the people who called this world home? What mighty cities have vanished into dust? What great deeds and heroes have been forgotten in the sands of time? Sadly, the answers to these questions we may never know. The only beings that might have been able to shed light on this distant time are gone now. May they find the rest they so richly deserved.

Truly, the history of our world is one of great loss and tragedy. But if the events of my life have taught me anything, it's that one must never give up hope. Things lost may yet be found, and the secrets of the past may yet yield themselves up to our devoted gaze. This is my fervent belief, and I will continue to hunt down the lost history of our mysterious world as long as this old body of mine draws breath.

- Foreword to "The History of the World" by Cid Del Norte Marguez, in the year 43 AF

Author's note: And so Book 1 - The Beginning is complete! Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this far, and I hope you'll stick around for Book 2 - The Goddess War. I'd love to know what people's impressions of the story are up to this point and any suggestions for the next book are more than welcome. Anyone reading this, please let me know what you think!