~x~

Author's Note: For those interested, I've gone back and added "Cid quotes" to the beginning of each of Book 1's Chapters, and will continue to add them to the beginning of each Chapter from now on. I enjoy doing these, and feel they give a connection to the current world of FFVI, as well as some insight into the world's history. I hope anyone who is reading this enjoys them as well. :)

Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time

Book 2: The Goddess War

Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star

The Ancient Castle at Karnak has given us a wealth of information about the ancient world, but even its vaults have their limits. Their oldest texts only date back to several centuries before the War of the Magi, when the castle was built. These hazy times at the edge of our vision were filled with strife and war, like much of our world's history. During this particular period, it was the gods themselves that warred, and the mortal plane was their battleground. One of the most vicious battles of the Goddess War occurred in the area now known as Jidoor. Legends tell of two mighty dragons of sky and sea that descended from the heavens and waged a bitter war for supremacy over the region. Legends also tell of two goddesses, as bright as the stars, that descended as well, and the hapless humans that fought amongst themselves for their unattainable favor.

-Excerpt from Chapter IV of "The History of the World" by Cid del Norte Marguez, 43 AF

Part 10.1 - The Tyrant Wyrm

For Paolo, it was the end. He would soon stand before his judge, jury, and executioner, and knew he had no hope of being pardoned. No one who was summoned to the Dragon Throne was ever seen again. Like so many before him, he was to be fed to the Tyrant Wyrm, Bahamut.

Forgive me, my children. I was a fool.

Paolo knew he had done nothing wrong, but things like right and wrong had little meaning these days. Ever since their "king" had returned to them five months ago, the brief peace West Jidorik had enjoyed had been turned into a twisted nightmare. Even the harsh rule of the missing Prince Ralse would have been better than this.

Why did I open my mouth? Why did I even leave my house after dark? What was I thinking?

At first, the homecoming of their beloved General-King, Draco Christophe, was celebrated. He had been gone for over a month, and there were growing worries that the East would launch a counterattack while he was gone. Soon after news spread that he had returned, however, strange proclamations started pouring from Glastok Castle, the capital of West Jidorik. Whatever had happened to their king while he was away, he had come back a changed man, quite literally.

"You will put on this blindfold, prisoner."

Paolo nodded wearily and stood silently as the burly guard tied a strip of cloth around his eyes with thick, clumsy fingers. He now stood at the foot of the Dragon Hall, once one of the most beautiful halls in the world. The last thing he saw before all went dark were the famous gold-wrought doors to the throne room, a twisting dragon encompassing their frame. As his vision was cut off, he heard the doors creak open, and felt a blast of frigid cold air.

This is it. I am ready, Altimus...

No one had seen their king since his return. Nor had anyone seen the Lady Maria, who had vanished shortly after her husband, and returned at the same time, under the same mysterious circumstances. Their were rumors that the couple that had returned were no longer human, but...something more. There was talk of a black-winged dragon flying above Glastok Castle, and a glowing angel appearing in the garden of the castle every night. Paolo had thought such fanciful rumors the talk of drunkards, madmen, and the jealous. As the months passed by, and the rumors and very un-Draco-like edicts increased, more and more people began to believe something very unusual had happened to their king and queen.

"Kneel before your king, prisoner!"

The guard smashed Paolo in the back with a giant hairy fist, forcing him to the ground. The cold air flowed over him, in and out, like the breath of some giant beast. A deep rumbling sound shook the air around him with each icy blast.

"You stand before the Dragon of the West, a traitor to your king and kingdom. How do you plead?" a snarling voice spoke from the far end of the hall. It was definitely not a human voice.

With each passing moment, Paolo began to believe the rumors with an increasing feeling of dread in his stomach. He had always pledged that he would be willing to die for his beliefs, but now that his vows were being put to the test, he wondered how long it would be before the Tyrant Wyrm made him say or do whatever was demanded of him.

I must stay strong. The Holy Master is with me. I will not falter.

"I am innocent. I have done nothing wrong, and am a loyal subject of West Jidorik." Paolo tried to speak boldly, but his voice wavered with fear. He had no idea what sort of being stood at the other end of the hall, but his mind was having no trouble coming up with every sort of black thing imaginable.

A roar filled the hall, and Paolo felt a massive intake of air that nearly knocked him breathless. In an instant, something massive and terrible had landed right in front of him, shaking the tiled floor and sending Paolo sprawling backwards, still blind. The chill in the air increased tenfold, and Paolo could sense some dark presence brooding over him. Panic spread over him, and he could feel a cold sweat break out over his body.

I will not falter, I will not falter, I will not..

"There is only one Master in this country, and that is Bahamut, the Dragon King! Say it, or die where you stand!" The growl was now a full roar, only a few feet from Paolo.

I must not betray my Order, I must not falter, I must not falter...

"There is only one Master..." Paolo said weakly.

Paolo should have seen what was happening sooner. Within one month of Draco's supposed return, people began disappearing. The first wave of people all had one thing in common, one thing that Paolo knew would eventually get him into trouble. Every single person that vanished was a member of the Order of the Pearl.

Paolo was a member of the Order of the Pearl.

"And that Master is...?" the inhuman voice demanded.

Within two months, a new group of people began to vanish. Anyone who's blood could be traced back to East Jidorik families. Paolo's uncle belonged to the Gabbianis - a very influential Eastern family line. Paolo knew enough to keep both his faith and his family history under wraps, but the once noble king had spies everywhere. One by one Paolo saw many people he knew, whether they were fellow Order members or distant family relations, snatched away in the night, never to be seen again.

Paolo breathed in sharply, knowing the next words out of his mouth would be his death sentence.

"The Holy Master, Altimus!" Paolo said loudly and quickly, before he had time to change his mind.

I am crazy.

Within three months, strange creatures began appearing in the countryside. News of the downfall of Narsille had reached Jidorik, and the rumors of monsters, ghosts, and all manner of unnatural phenomenon spread like wildfire. Giant birds that walked like men. Poisonous weeds that moved and strangled their prey. Worms the size of snakes that could devour a man whole. The king made no appearances to calm his people, and offered no explanations for the events taking place. He simply added more laws to the growing list, claiming that they were for his people's protection. The wording was always that of a benevolent keeper of the peace, but the effect was martial law.

After four months, the people now lived in fear of both their king and the growing threat of monster attacks on the road. And people continued to vanish. Paolo wondered how long it would be until someone came in the night for him. He had tried to act normal, not speak out, and follow whatever insane laws came down from the capital, but it was becoming harder and harder to keep his nerves in these trying times.

On the fifth month, someone finally came for Paolo. The monsters had begun invading towns, and some of them seemed to be working with the king. The proclamations that came down from the capital were no longer signed "King Draco Christophe", but "Bahamut, Dragon King of Jidorik." Anyone who spoke out even slightly against the king or his laws was instantly clapped in chains and carried off, and not always by soldiers. Just as frequently, a person who had spoken poorly would be the victim of a monster attack the very next day, carried off to unknown parts.

Despite his best efforts, Paolo had accidentally let slip a common prayer said by members of the Order of the Pearl in public, and that very night, he was visited by a horror unlike anything he had ever seen. It was a filthy ape-like brute with white fur and blue skin, eight feet tall. Paolo had been out late despite the curfew, and before he knew what was happening, he was being carried away by the thing, towards Glastok Castle.

Now, after two days in a stinking dungeon, that same sub-human guard stood behind him, and its master before him. He had declared his allegiance, and now all that was left was to die for it.

But the blow he was expecting did not come. Paolo waited in total darkness, his fears growing by the second, but nothing happened. The freezing aura continued to pour over him, and he could hear the rapid sound of heavy breathing, but there was no voice, no command. If something didn't happen soon, he felt he would die from nerves alone.

After an interminable silence, someone finally spoke, but it was not the Dragon King.

"Sire, if you would, I will take care of this one." The voice was human, but sounded ragged and cracked. It might have been the voice of a tired old man, or a very sick young one. Paolo imagined anyone who had to spend his days working under a monster like this would probably sound just like this.

"Grrr...very well, Lucius. He has professed his guilt quite clearly. Do what you will with him. I do not have time to waste on these petty concerns anymore."

Paolo felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, helping him off the ground.

"Come with me, Paolo Atriani. You have been judged."

Paolo stood shakily, unsure what was to become of him. The stranger guided him back out the doors and into the long hallway, closing the heavy doors behind him. Once there, the man removed his blindfold.

"You are lucky. If I hadn't interrupted, you would have been slain on the spot. Try not to antagonize our king, or you will find yourself nothing more than a stain on the wall, understand?"

Paolo looked at the man who had saved his life, unable to speak. He was covered in a cloak, and Paolo could make nothing of him beyond the fact that he was a man. What little flesh he could see was pale and covered in gruesome scars. One especially ugly wound covered the back of the hand on his shoulder, in the shape of a nearly complete circle. Had the Dragon King done this?

"Why did you save me?" Paolo said after struggling to find his voice.

"I did not save you," the man snapped back, irritated. "The king has judged you, and has graciously allowed me to carry out the sentence."

"And that sentence is...?" Paolo asked, his fear returning rapidly.

"That is up to the gods."

Paolo started to speak, but the man motioned for silence and continued guiding him down the hallway. Soon, Paolo realized he was heading towards the entrance to the castle. When they reached the gates, the man let go of his shoulder, and pushed him softly across the threshold.

"You have relations in East Jidorik, correct?" the man stood behind the gates, not moving one step out of the castle.

Paolo stood bewildered at the man's actions. Was he setting him free, or sending him to his death?

"I do."

"Then leave this country at once, and join them while you can. Times are changing, and war is coming. It will be a war unlike anything you have ever seen, and you will be safer in the East."

"Is this the will of the gods?" Paolo asked, wondering if this man was perhaps a secret member of the Order.

The man looked up at him, and Paolo saw that his face, too, was covered in scars. His eyes were wide and clear, and filled with a burning spirit that the frail body hid well. "There are many gods in this world, and many wills. If your will is strong enough, you may find yourself saved."

"Are you an ally or an enemy?"

"I am merely a slave of the gods, as are we all. Now go, and never come back." The scarred man turned and shut the gates, walking back into the castle with a hobbled step.

Paolo didn't waste time trying to think about his benefactor's intentions. Somehow, his prayers had been answered.

Altimus be praised!

Taking one shaky step forward, he tested his freedom. Nothing jumped out from the shadows, no howls of rage from inside the castle. He looked up into the night sky, expecting to see the black wings of the dragon rising from the castle like the rumors said. But there was nothing but stars. He had escaped the Tyrant Wyrm by the grace of the Holy Master! He had not faltered, and his devotion had been rewarded.

Paolo began to walk away from the castle with a surer step, picking up his pace. The scarred man had told him to go east, and he intended to, but first he had to get his children. It would take him all night to make it back to his home town, but he would gather his children and leave in the morning.

"Are you headed to the East?"

Paolo jumped at the whispered voice, hidden in the trees around him. It was a horrible sound, like a voice from the crypt. He turned to try and find the source, but could see only darkness.

"Who's there?" Paolo whispered back, hoping it was another ally.

"I am no one," the voice returned. "Are you headed to the East?"

Paolo decided to trust the voice, feeling it was another messenger from Altimus. "I am, will you help me?"

"Take my hand."

The air in front of Paolo shimmered, and a ghastly hand appeared. It looked like the hand of a corpse, and Paolo shrank back instinctively.

"Take my hand, or you will surely die here tonight," the voice whispered. From the shadows, the shape of a person materialized. It was covered in rags, and only the one stark white arm could be seen. Where its other arm should have been, only an empty sleeve blew in the breeze.

"I suppose I have no choice," Paolo said reluctantly, wondering if this was a trap. This thing in front of him did not seem quite human. But it was offering life, when his own king had offered him death. He took the ghostly figure's hand, and prayed with all his heart.

The second he touched the cold hand, Paolo felt a sharp thrill of energy go up his arm, as if he had been shocked. The world spun around him, and then both he and his ghostly savior vanished.

Paolo Atriani was never seen again.