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Final Fantasy VI: The Sands of Time

Book 2: The Goddess War

Chapter 10 - Dragon and Star

Part 10.4 - Blue Skies, Blue Eyes

The journey home was a long one. Flapping frantically to gain height, the little bird left the quiet hill of green behind, and began its trek across Jidorik as mechanically as the wind-up toys popular in the East. Below, the hills flattened, and turned from green to an unhealthy yellow, then the flat brown of empty fields, waiting to be tilled. Rails and pipelines replaced the rolling fields, and grey skies replaced blue. Then black replaced grey.

Faltering, the little bird rose above the bloated cloud before it, avoiding the unpleasant air above Castle Ralse and its surroundings. Hours went by, and the bird did not tire. The clouds below were dark and fulsome with the might of the East. But the little bird did not care at all about the scene below. The clear skies above and beyond were its only care at the moment. There were many miles, and many days before it would reach its destination, the path locked into its tiny mind like a well-choreographed dance, performed countless times.

Three days went by, and soon the mottled, unnatural landscape of the industrious East gave way once again to rolling fields. Green and blue returned to the world, and the little bird lowered itself to a more comfortable altitude. To the north, a great thunderstorm raged across the Zozo mountain range, an unusual sight at this time of the year. The southern tip of this long, narrow range threatened to cut right down the middle of the Jidorik plains like a knife separating East from West, their glacially slow progress down to the sea far beyond the time scales of man. Such things were beyond the consideration of the little bird, as well, and it continued due west on its tireless longitudinal dance.

One more day, and the great Medina River lazily emerged over the horizon. This was the official demarcation between East Jidorik and West Jidorik, and the half-way point in the bird's journey. Stopping at the riverbank for a short rest, the bird pecked at the clear, untainted water. The river was higher than normal, the persistent storms in the northern mountains filling it to the brim with fresh rain water. The bird had refreshed itself here many times, but this time the water tasted different. There was something richer, more alive about the water coming down from the mountains now. Drinking only half its usual amount, the bird shot back into the clouds, filled with a strange vitality it had never known before. The bird asked no questions, and simply took the gift silently.

Two more days, and the vast forests of Glastok came into view. Blackened scars of previous battles spotted the forest canopy like craters. It would be many years before the fiery ravages of the East would be smoothed over by nature's endless march. Hidden in the western edges of the forest was Glastok Bastion, the most important fortification of the West. Once fallen, it now resumed its duties in watching over the eastern borders of West Jidorik.

Just beyond the forest and bastion rose the massive Glastok Castle, rising above the rest of the region on a small plateau that separated it from its surroundings like a great earthen throne. The trees of the forest stopped just outside the castle gates, but the bird did not stop. The castle was not its destination, not today.

That strange jolt of energy still invigorated the little bird, giving it speed it normally would not have at this point in the long flight. In just two hours, Glastok Castle was behind it, and the great plains of West Jidorik were in full view. Unlike the East, there were no black fumes or piles of metal dotting the landscape. It was a wonderfully bucolic landscape, filled with simple farms and rustic towns. The largest cities still maintained the rural aspect of the smaller towns, with barely anything taller than three stories rising above the cobblestone streets. A happy chirp escaped the bird as it sailed over this seemingly peaceful setting. A closer inspection would have revealed a world gripped in fear and uncertainty, but the bird's eyes were still set due west.

By the end of the seventh day, the bird had reached the limit of West Jidorik, and was closing in on its goal. The shorelines of the west appeared beneath it, sandy and pristine. A small port rose from the beach on wooden legs, alone except for a tiny trail that led back to civilization. There was only one vessel near the port, a modest-sized boat resting quietly less than a mile from the coast. This was the bird's destination.

As the boat came into view, the bird began the final steps of its dance, circling around and around as it descended. Like clockwork, a waiting hand was reaching out over the railing of the boat, its withered, wrinkled surface a familiar sight to the little bird. In a few minutes, the bird had reached the boat and hopped onto the hand, eager to receive its due reward. A tiny fish lay in the hand, and without hesitation the bird snatched the fishy prize up and gulped it down.

While the bird ate, another hand carefully untied the little scroll of paper from its leg. While the owner of the withered hands read the message, the bird hopped patiently along the railing, waiting for its next mission.

Lucius watched the little bird hop expectantly as he scanned the letter, not a care in the world beyond the little reward that waited at the end of each trip.

Such a simple life you have. Fish and flying, flying and fish. East to West, West to East, with no strife in between. No memories of a dark past, no worries of a darker future. If only we all could live that way, free from sorrow and pain. But that is a child's dream, and I am no longer a child. But these two...

"Dreaming again, Doctor?" a soft voice tinkled from behind the man as he ruminated. A beautiful woman in blue, glowing with an otherworldly aura of golden light, lay on a throne-like bed behind the man, her gaze as blue as her gown. Golden hair flowed in the sea breeze, and half-hidden behind her thick curls hovered an equally golden star, casting its silent glow over her entire being. She looked like a goddess in repose, lazily taking in the quiet waves around her. She was Starlet, and she was not human, but the two children nestled at her breast were.

"I have not dreamed in a long time, Mar-I mean, Starlet," Lucius croaked, a look of pain shooting across his scarred face. "Must I call you that, even when we are alone?"

"It is who I am, Doctor. And we are never alone. My Master is always with us, watching over everything I say, every thought I have." The woman's voice was as smooth and unchanging as the clear blue sky above. There was a deepness to her cold eyes that unsettled Lucius, and he made no pains to hide it.

"What has happened to you? Ever since that night, you have been acting differently, and yet you are still the same. I don't understand what is happening to you, but you will always be the Lady Maria to me. Can't you still be Maria to your children, at least?"

Hearing the disturbing tones of Lucius's voice, one of the infants began to cry. Hearing her twin brother's wails, the tiny girl started crying as well.

Starlet cooed affectionately at the two children in her arms, a slight warmth radiating outwards from her as she did. "There, there, Aquilas, Leonora...no more crying. You're just cold, that's all." Her warming embrace instantly calmed the two children as if by magic. When her eyes returned to Lucius's, there was a familiar glint in them, something unmistakably human, and profoundly sad.

"Was it right, Doctor?" she asked.

"Right?" Lucius had difficulty following Starlet's thoughts ever since the night she gave birth, and nearly died. It was as if there were two people inside that perfect form, struggling for supremacy. One as cold as a distant star, the other as warm and close as a mother's loving arms. Lucius did not know who he was speaking to sometimes, Maria or Starlet, or some combination of the two.

The blue eyes wavered, then stilled as she continued. "To bring these children into this world?" She caressed the soft heads of her children, her pale white hands a sharp contrast to the still-red tops of the newborns. One of them crinkled its face at her touch and made noises like it was about to cry. "Look how they cry for their missing mother."

Lucius was confused and out of sorts, as he often was these days. "Nonsense, you're right here. They're just cold."

The blue eyes rose to the sky and stared at the faint image of the twin moons, still visible like a mirage in the clear noon sky. That was what her life felt like these days - a mirage lost in a dream. "No...I can feel it, inside me. The woman that was their mother died long ago, in your arms."

Lucius stuttered, and nearly lost his balance on the ship's deck. He gripped the railing, disturbing the little bird's mindless prancing. "How did you...," he gasped, trying to push away the roaring sound in the back of his mind. For an instant, blood, flames, and tears filled his vision.

"Shh...," Starlet cooed, as if she were talking to one of her children. A gentle hand reached out and swept a stray, twisting lock of snow white hair from Lucius's face.

Lucius instantly felt the roaring sound fade away, and the deadly images shattered like glass. But the pieces were still buried there, jagged and ruthless in their irrevocability.

"I knew the moment I saw you again. Somehow, I knew we would meet again, Doctor."

Lucius looked at Starlet, perhaps seeing the real her for the first time since that night. Her hand rested on his, a quiet gesture of fellowship and love. Was she still in there? Sometimes it seemed like it had all been a dream, and this really was Maria holding onto him, looking at him as a protector and savior, just as she had before.

As he lost himself in those bottomless orbs, he felt like she was trying to tell him something that it was beyond her capability to say, perhaps even to think. The only thing that she could show of this desire was raw emotion and instinct, and even that was fading as her humanity slowly ebbed away with each passing week. As Lucius looked into those blue windows into Starlet's conflicted soul, what he saw was a mother's love, and fear.

"The children will be fine. I will make sure of it." Lucius said boldly. The slightly chilled hands quickly retracted, and the motherly look disappeared. Whatever Lucius had seen, it was gone now. Had he made a mistake?

"I could heal your flesh, Doctor, if you want me to." Starlet said in a distant voice, changing the subject. "My Master has shown me how."

Lucius jumped at the sudden change in direction. "Impossible," he blurted out automatically. As a doctor, he knew these burns would forever mar his appearance.

Starlet smiled, a foreign smile not like the old smile Lucius had once seen on a stormy night in another life. "Nothing is impossible now, in this world of gods and magic." The look in her eyes was a million miles away, a frozen window into another world that the good Doctor could know nothing of.

"Please don't talk like that, it's disturbing the children," Lucius said, quite disturbed himself. Whenever she talked of this "Master" of hers, it sent a thrill of primitive fear through him. She had never spoken of this Master until the night she had given birth. But Lucius had felt the weight of something ominous and hidden just behind her every word and action ever since coming to this part of the world. Something had happened on that night in the garden, but it was not the beginning, only a new door being opened in a long hallway, leading to places Lucius would rather not think about. But when this woman talked like this, he could not help but walk beside her down that unknown path, into the abyss. Was the Maria he had known truly gone? Only by walking with her on this path, to the utter end, could he be sure. And then...

"There is no going back to the man I once was, Mar-, I mean Starlet. There is no going back for either of us, is there?"

Starlet's eyes regained their sparkle of life as she gazed out over the blue-green waves. She must have seen something unpleasant out there in the endless ocean, for when her eyes turned back onto Lucius, the spark was gone and her face was cold and somber.

"Yes...no going back...there is only the future...cold and blue..."

Lucius said nothing, and stood against the railing of the boat, looking out at the waters where Starlet's gaze had wandered. In the distance he saw something large and white crest the surface. There was a mournful cry that sounded almost like a song, and then the great white hump vanished beneath the water.

As soon as the sound had faded, a man appeared from below decks. Beside him was the Esper Shivar. The man was young, and looked extremely uncomfortable in the current situation, whatever that may be, but the icy Esper showed no expression on his face at all, as usual. The two walked up to Starlet and Lucius as if summoned.

"The Captain grows restless out here in the open, Lady Starlet," the nervous man said, half bowing as he spoke. "Shivar thinks we should return to port, out of sight of any unwanted visitors."

"That is fine, Connor," Starlet said in a kind voice that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Tell Cetus we may go now. I have had my fill of the ocean today."

Connor flinched at the name Cetus, but said nothing. To him, the giant white whale that swam just beneath them, out of sight, was still his Captain Bismark. Things had changed drastically since their escape from Narsille, and Connor had tried his best to understand what had happened. Some things were just beyond human comprehension, though, and after several months of waiting, he was convinced that the only course he could take was to listen to his Captain, as he always had. There was simply no other path to take in this strange new world.

Shivar looked out over the water, and after a moment of silent watching, the great white whale known as Cetus rose to the surface, then continued to rise out of the water until it was hovering alongside the ship, almost as large as the boat itself. There was a look of fierce anger in its one good eye, but nothing but a lifeless dull blue glow in the other eye.

"We must leave," the giant Esper said in a thick, wet voice. "Leviathan could be lurking anywhere out here, and I won't let the Maiden remain vulnerable like this. You've had your fun, Starlet, and now it's time to go home."

"I already agreed to return, Cetus," Starlet sniped. "If Bahamut were here you would not..."

The giant whale twisted its bulk around in a convulsion of anger, and roared, "Bahamut is not here! He is gone, on our Master's wretched business, and while he is gone, I am in charge! I am still Captain of this vessel, and every one on it, even you."

"Master Cetus, please do not strain yourself. We will return immediately." Shivar's cool voice interrupted, disarming the volatile Esper momentarily.

Cetus blew a jet of water from the top of his head, grumbling, "So now the dandy thinks he can calm me, like some pet? Fine! Just get the Maiden back to the port, and leave me in peace."

With a rude splash, Cetus fell back into the waters like a stone, and quickly sank out of sight, his tailfin flipping angrily as he dived. But he was not forgotten, and neither was his warning. The enemy was a master of the seas as well, and could at any moment decide to attack. Leviathan had been strangely silent, but that could change in an instant. The serpent-like Esper was as crafty as a snake, and no one doubted he would strike sooner or later, and that the first target would likely be his old nemesis, the Captain of the Maiden.

The sudden exit of Cetus had left everyone on deck drenched, and now both of Starlet's children were crying in full force.

"That Cetus...he thinks himself a Herald, but he is nothing compared to my Bahamut," Starlet said to herself, calming her children with her hands. Despite the violence they had just felt, Starlet's magical touch quieted them instantly.

Lucius watched as she deftly silenced the twins, unsettled. There was something unnatural in the way she cared for them. He wondered how she saw her two human children. She was a mighty Esper, an emissary of the gods, and they...they were mere mortals. Did she truly love them? Perhaps a part of her did, and always would. The blood-red fragment of her humanity that she still carried inside her, surrounded by the cold blue Esper flesh...did it throb with feeling whenever she looked at what she had created? Where was Maria fading to, and how much longer until there was nothing but Starlet?

These children will never know their father, and will have only a dim memory of their mother. I am the only link to the humans that created them now. I had never planned on being parent, had thought it impossible...and yet as I look at the twins in the arms of their increasingly distant mother, I feel the burden of responsibility to care for them. I brought them into this horrible world, and I don't know if I can just sit by and watch as they are raised by a being that just might be incapable of truly loving them, or even regarding them as alive.

Espers and humans...how could I have foolishly thought we had any common ground? Why did I come to this place? I had thought the home Maria spoke of would be different, better, but it is has the same stench as Narsille. Everywhere is the same. Only I am different, and it is up to me to guide this world if no one else has the sense to see what is happening. There are many wills, but mine will prove to be the strongest in the end. I swear it!

"Come, Doctor, the children are hungry, and my body cannot feed them," Starlet sad in her kind-but-not-quite-there voice. She handed Aquilas and Leonora to him, and glided back down to the cabin below. Cetus had spoiled her mood, as he usually did.

"Of course, Starlet," Lucius said, pulling the old mask over his features. Only Starlet could bring out any emotion from him these days, and when she was gone, he reverted to the cold, emotionless husk that haunted the halls of Glastok Castle. If he didn't wear this mask, the roaring madness might return and consume him, perhaps for good this time. When Maria finally vanished beneath the guise of Starlet, would Lucius's own humanity join her?

Before joining the others below decks, Lucius quickly scrawled a return message for the patiently waiting, and somewhat damp, carrier pigeon.

Giorgio,

I know how you feel about your life's work, but you must continue working for the sake of both our nations. Ralse is a horrible man with horrible dreams, but his goal is the same as ours at the moment. Do not worry about his intentions, and focus solely on the Ascalon for now. When the time comes, it will not be Ralse and his followers that win, but the world, and peace. I am aware of all that he does, and soon you will see the true face of this war as I have. Remember your friends when that time comes, and do not falter in your dreams, no matter what you may find in the mountains of Zozo. Be safe, and remember your family. As always, your friend.

Lucius sealed the letter and curled it into a tight scroll. The little bird hopped obediently to his side, and waited while he attached the letter to its leg.

"Fly, my little friend," Lucius whispered, and lifted the bird into his hands. Sensing it was time for another long journey, the bird frantically flapped its wings and rose into the blue sky with its new message.

Once the bird was out of sight, Lucius turned and painfully made his way down below alone. Starlet had claimed she could heal his wounds, turn him back into the still-youthful man he once was. He had seen plenty of magic since Narsille, and knew that Starlet could heal almost any wound, as she had done to herself on the bloody night of her children's birth, just when he had though all hope was lost. But every miracle came at a price. Starlet had never been the same since that day, and Lucius wondered if he too, would be...changed as she was if he allowed her to work her restorative powers on him.

No...there was too much at stake to succumb to petty vanity now. Soon, all his plans would come together. Soon, humanity would take its stand against these monstrous beings that had invaded their world. Narsille was lost, and Lucius suspected there was a very good chance Jidorik would be lost too before all was over, but that was the price he was willing to pay. The people of Narsille had been weak-willed drones, and when the time came to prove their worth to the gods, they had failed. As Lucius thought about what he had seen of Jidorik in his time here, how they had quivered in fear of Bahamut, just as complacent and feeble as the apathetic Narsillians, he was convinced they would be trampled under wills greater than theirs in the end, too.

The wills of the gods were strong, and the wills of humans weak...but somewhere, somehow, Lucius would prove them all wrong. He would continue to survive and someday his guiding hand would topple the Espers and their Masters. He just needed to bide his time, and watch, and wait, giving nudges here and there to move the sluggish mankind along. Individually, humans were hopelessly weak and petty, constantly letting their myriad wills push and pull in a thousand different directions to no net result. But if a single will that was strong enough could bring them all together at a pivotal moment...perhaps a true miracle could happen, one that had nothing to do with the so-called gods above.

Yes, Lucius Atma would wait for that moment. And then, the gods would tremble.