War of the Crystals

by mythweaver1

FFIV. Rydia-centric. Another time and place have prepared Rydia for war, and amidst a plot of treachery, greed, and destruction, she has returned to help Cecil turn the tide. While the war rages through towers, over oceans, and underground; five companions learn to trust each other in the face of utter ruin. Even when their worst enemy is themselves. Novelization/Adaptation

25. Legends

A/N:

Profound apologies. And please bear with me...this got long.

As I warned on my profile—settle in for a long date with your computer screens. This may take a few sittings, to be honest. This is HUGE.

I fought the temptation to split this up until I realized that the second part was going to be about 12k all on its own, and...that would have been WAY too long.

But hold that thought. This is still almost 17k in length and there is quite a bit more to come.

And for those of you who don't read my profile and haven't kept track of the plan for the rest of this novelization, just a head's up. This is a transition chapter. OMG, MYTH, REALLY?! ...OH YES! You better BELIEVE IT. Those of you hoping for the sidequests to be dealt with and resolved, here ya go! For those of you thinking, to hell with this, I'm skipping this one. You might not want to do that ;)

This chapter and the one following it will tackle ALL of that.

There are a lot of fun moments in this, if I do say so myself, and several character advancing scenes.

Actually related to the chapter...

The last, oh...three chapters, have been extremely dark. I'd like to say that this chapter is not as dark, but...thaaaaat just didn't happen. Is it hopelessly dark? No ;) Delightfully dark? Perhaps.

And as Moonclaw pointed out-yes, I made another error last chapter. I'm actually giggling at THAT one because it was a total brain fart. Names and I...we don't always get along.

Okay, and also, I am changing the topography of the Mysidian "continent". It's basically a glorified island, and islands don't just float in the sea without higher elevations...I'm adding some hills and some "ancient" mountains. Think of the dragon's "neck" as a low mountain range that's so old the tops have been weathered to rounded mounds. Plus, fresh water sources, and downhill flowing...and Mysidia...I mean, yes there's the water crystal, but still...nerd rage. Most of you will probably not understand that, but that's okay. I just picture Mysidia sitting on a delta...and delta's require rivers...and rivers require sources...and sources require higher elevations...THUS.

Also, I'm making the city a citadel. And I'm making it bigger. Because I do not agree with Squeenix's world population of...50. There must be AT LEAST 500,000 XP

I'm not sure why Mysidia makes me think of Minas Tirith...or Cair Paraval...but...white buildings...either that, or Greece...or somewhere awesome in Europe where I've never been.

Oh, and p.s. there's a crossover mentioned in this chapter. Because I do that. Common Ground as a random fic out of nowhere? Haha, no. Very purposeful ;) If only I could finish it...

Also—once again, I apologize. This took much, much, much longer to write than expected. And...July/August were not good months for me. It was like bombshell after bombshell being dropped. Probably one of the most intense summers I've ever had, haha, and it led to me being unable to write for a while. Onto the good news—I think I have solved a mini dilemma I was having as for an overarching theme for the final parts of the game—as it pertains to the group dynamic. This was kind of a pivotal point in THIS chapter, and part of why it took so long to write. You may think..."Myth, I think the overarching theme was rather obvious", but I'm referring more to the micro dynamics...the little details. What makes each character tick.

Thank you for waiting, and thank you for reading!

Enjoy!

0-0-0-0

Legends

Cecil flew the Falcon through the chasm they had opened in the ceiling of the underworld, freeing them from the dwarves' domain.

There was a stiff breeze above what remained of the mountains of Agart, buffeting the ship. Low clouds whisped by and Rydia found herself exulting in the scent of fresh, unfettered wind, even while she shivered as her sweat chilled to ice on her skin.

The Falcon had not fared altogether well from the drilling, and there were pits and pockmarks from impacts it had taken during the process. The ship seemed to limp through the air, the propellers straining, but Cecil assured them the ship had enough spirit to last them to Mysidia, despite Edge's dubious expressions.

They flew east, to the city Rydia had never seen before but had only heard about in stories. She had heard of Palom and Porom and of Mount Ordeals, of course, but she was more interested in learning of Mysidia's philosophies, magic, and culture. She found her nerves gathering, as she anticipated arriving in the spiritual city. Her people had been separated from the Mysidians for the better part of an age, but they had once shared the same beliefs. What would they think of her, the lone daughter of Mist? Would they scorn her, or welcome her, as they had once done with Cecil when he arrived on their shore as a dark knight?

A peninsula appeared in the distance; and the ancient, rounded spines of mountains rose from the sea, covered in green. A blue haze spread from the sea to the land, bathing the mountains in soft feathery mist. Rydia squinted, wondering where they city was below them.

And then she saw it through the clouds-great domed roofs with delicate spires reaching toward the heavens. Gold ornamentations glittered in the sunlight, and the buildings shone alabaster. Rydia caught her breath, seeing the tower of prayer atop the citadel's many tiers.

Cecil lowered the ship, and as they descended, Rydia made out more details. The city was layered, each tier more elaborate than the next. She could see the homes of the general citizenry, and the buildings of learning, including the great library with its columned facade; and of course, the delicately tended gardens with fruit bearing trees that lined the streets.

Cecil landed the Falcon across a field from the gates of the citadel. The grass was long and rose to their waists, and the smell of warm earth was sweet on Rydia's senses, who was used to the long deprivation from such scents, sights, and sounds. As they walked closer to the gates, she saw carts strewn about the fields with farmers wielding scythes as they cut down and tied bundles of straw. They nodded to the farmers in their wide-brimmed hats and continued on. Well-worn dirt tracks ran like veins from the surrounding countryside to the city itself, and they followed one such path directly to the gates, avoiding deep ruts made by wagon wheels.

The gates were open upon their arrival, and a small assembly had come to meet them.

Rydia's eyes swept across the delegation of blue and white-clad individuals, but her attention was captured by a man wearing black robes layered atop white. Around his neck hung a long silver chain with a polished lapis lazuli strung onto it with intricate fastenings. The stone glistened brilliantly, as though it were bringing to light the very depths of the ocean. It lay atop his beard, and at his waist, both of his hands were firmly clasped. The man approached Cecil and took his hand.

"We saw your ship land, and had to meet you," he told Cecil. "Something has happened in your absence."

Cecil's jaw was set as he nodded, surveying the other mages. "We have news of our own," he replied.

The older man looked at the four of them, and Rydia noticed a wrinkle of concern on his brow that vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, as he turned to lead them to a carriage hitched to two chocobos.

"We will speak of it at the tower," the older gentleman assured them.

True to his word, there were no words exchanged between the mounting of the carriage and subsequent ride through the citadel's wards. Rydia's ears strained for information, but when none was forthcoming, she took the opportunity to focus her eyes on the changing scenery. The buildings were neatly stacked atop each other with narrow alleyways and stairways connecting them. Linens blew in the breeze pinned to lines, and Rydia spied children running along rooftops with kites. They were fashioned in the shape of animals and easily recognized symbols like the sun, moon, and stars, and their colors were bright against the white of the city.

Men and women wearing blue and white robes strode along the street beside them, but there weren't many of them among the plain clothed citizens. Their faces were grim and deep in thought as they ambled about, carrying out errands. Rydia remembered Cecil explaining the attack on Mysidia for its crystal, and that many mages had been slain or captured by Baron's forces. It amazed Rydia that the children could still play when so much violence had befallen the city some months before.

The carriage wound up several ramps as the road became steeper, and as the tower's shadow grew closer, Rydia noticed the number of mages multiply. She looked at her companions-and was surprised by what she saw. Cecil was deep in thought, Rosa was staring listlessly out into the city, and Edge-he was glaring sideways at the man wearing black who Rydia could only assume was the Elder. She glanced at the elderly man whose own eyes were pinned to his hands in his lap, and wondered what news he held for them. Was there any truth to what Giott had said in the underworld? Did Mysidia know of the machine the Ancient Ones had built?

They approached the tower of prayer through a courtyard surrounded on both sides by long dormitories. From there, they disembarked the carriage and followed the Elder into the main entrance hall. It was a grand space with flagstone floors and paneled walls that gleamed with streaks of red and purple grain.

"This way, please," the Elder informed them, directing them down a hallway to the left. Attached to this hall were a number of rooms, and the Elder led them to one in the very center of the wing.

A grand table was set in the middle of the room, flanked on either side by rows of bookshelves.

The Elder and his aides walked to the opposite end of the table, while Cecil stayed closest to the door—Rosa and the others seating themselves on either side of him. When they had all settled, the Elder spread his hands atop the table, looking at Cecil with heavy brows.

"My thoughts have traveled far or late, and I cannot help but see that the twins are not with you," the Elder noted regrettably.

Rydia glanced at Cecil, remembering the twin statues taking residence in one of Baron's foyers.

"Have they decided to stay elsewhere, or has something ill befallen them?" the elder pressed. "I have not been able to divine their location."

Cecil's gray eyes avoided the Elder's. "They are indisposed in Baron," he answered.

"Indisposed?" the Elder probed. "By magic, I presume?"

"They saved our lives from a space that was collapsing. They sacrificed themselves for us by turning themselves to stone," Cecil elaborated, still unable to look the older man in the eyes.

The Elder pursed his lips and gazed out a window to his right. "Yes, this explains many things," he muttered. "I had wondered why I'd received no word from them. I knew sending those children off into a war had its risks, but for their journey to be cut so short..."

"Tellah tried, but-"

The elder shook his head. "Magic between twins cannot be undone by simple magic; though, Tellah was nothing if not experienced. It was a rash thing they did, but undoubtedly it saved your life."

"I'm sorry for their loss, if there was any way-"

"The twins are not forever lost," the Elder suddenly interrupted. "For now I am content to know their fate and will work to undo it. In the meanwhile, there are more immediate concerns. Tell me, what news of Golbez's conquest of the crystals?"

"The Tower of Babil has been activated," Cecil explained. "All of the world's crystals are in his hands and his plans for them are about to be set in motion."

"The moon," the Elder said, absently stroking his beard.

"Yes, there has been much talk of that lately," Cecil acknowledged.

The Elder smiled grimly and nodded to the aide at his left who rose and walked to a lectern, returning with a heavy leather-bound tome. She set it on the table before the elder and he ran his fingers along the spine before flipping the cover open. The tome groaned and creaked as its pages were exposed to the light.

The elder pointed at the page before him. "We began to research," he informed them. "During my meditations atop the tower, I heard a voice insistent that you travel to the moon. I was given visions as well-visions of a mighty ship, and of the prophecy given to my people; the very same prophecy inscribed on that sword of yours. We turned the main archives over, pored over every manuscript we could find, the older the better. And then we found this-" he said, pointing to the tome in front of him again. "In it we found ancient drawings of the ship I was shown in my visions."

He turned the book so that the rest of them could see the illustration drawn delicately in black ink of a mighty ship. It looked so much like a modern airship, that Rydia was amazed such a thing had existed in ancient times.

"The caption reads, 'the great whale'," the Elder said. "And while we're now aware that such a machine even existed, finding it is an entirely different matter."

"Who built this ship?" Cecil asked, frowning at the illustration.

"The Ancient Ones. The ones who hailed from the moon itself," the elder informed them.

Rydia felt her pulse quicken. Could these people have been the builders of Babil?

"It has been made clear to me that you are to go there. The voice on Mount Ordeals would not have blessed you with holy light if there was not to be some purpose behind your transformation."

"The moon?" Cecil asked, incredulously. "Why do all roads lead there?" he added with a sigh.

The Elder closed the book with a crisp thump. "Because I am certain that is where all of this began. Our world has been shaped by forces we have barely begun to understand, and the twin moon and its secrets are a large part of the mystery."

"Do you think this 'Great Whale' is somewhere near Mysidia, then?" Rosa asked quietly.

The Elder pursed his lips and looked out the window that faced the ocean. His gray eyes glinted in the bright sunlight, and Rydia waited for his answer.

After a pause the Elder looked at Cecil.

"Birthed from womb of Dragons' maw

And borne unto the stars

By light and darkness held aloft

Are dreamtide oaths resworn.

Moon is swathed in ever-light,

Ne'er again to know eclipse

Earth, with hallowed bounty reconciled."

He recited, saying the words with reverence, as though he had said them often in his meditations.

It had a certain lilt to it that Rydia found pleasing, almost like a song.

"That prophecy," Cecil said slowly, trying to piece his thoughts together. "The dwarves spoke of it, also."

"Yes, it is an ancient prophecy. Handed down from our oldest scholars," the elder told them.

"The dwarves seemed to believe that the ship you mentioned would be able to breach the tower's defenses," Cecil mentioned.

"On that account, I have no knowledge. I do, however, know that this vessel will take you to the moon. From there? I'm uncertain, though I have no doubt that the two are linked."

Rydia chewed on the inside of her lip, disappointed that the elder couldn't give them a clearer answer.

The elder seemed to sense their disappointment, for he continued. "From the prophecy," he said, "we learned that the dragon mentioned in it is none other than the island this citadel sits upon. This city is ancient and owes much to the knowledge bestowed upon us by the Ancient Ones. The Serpent's Road, Mount Ordeals, and even many of our oldest texts were obtained through their patronage. It would make sense to me that the vessel I was shown in my visions would originate near this island—it's a matter of bringing it forth that we have not deciphered."

"What are we to do in the meantime?" Cecil asked, and Rydia heard the tired note of irritation in his voice.

"We will continue to meditate and to research," the elder replied, his voice calm and even. Annoyingly so.

"Pardon my frankness, but the world does not have time for you to be meditating on a solution when a solution needs to be found now," Cecil objected.

The elder smiled wanly. "I can tell that you traveled with Tellah, for you are displaying his impatience. However, impatience will solve nothing. There is urgency, and then there is recklessness."

"We could use a little recklessness," Cecil argued. "We have exhausted our options; we have no other recourse."

The elder nodded to the other of his aides, the two of them passing some unspoken communication. The mage left the room, and the elder looked back at Cecil, nonplussed. "I respect your resolve, but what would you do with the ship once it was here? Would you charge straight into the side of the tower, expecting it to bow before you in defeat? There are no certainties here. The only certainty I have, is that you are to go to the moon. Nothing less, nothing more. You were called, and now you must answer; and as a bearer of the holy light, you are responsible for doing what is asked of you. Your fate and the fate of the world are interlinked. You set aside your past—cast off your darkness—did you think it was for anything less than the benefit of all people?"

Rydia glanced at Cecil and saw him blanche. "We are in your auspices, then," the paladin answered, bowing his head contritely.

"You, of course, are welcome to help us search the archives," the elder continued. "After all, you have traveled extensively. You may recognize something that we might not."

"Of course," Cecil replied, looking then at the others.

The elder saw where his eyes had traveled and interceded. "The rest of your companions may stay in the dormitories. We have ample space, what with recent events."

"Thank you, your grace," Rosa answered on Cecil's behalf; skirting the uncomfortable fact that it was Cecil's own actions as a dark knight that had led to their accommodations.

"Of course, I am also not unfamiliar with the talents of those in your company," the elder added as an aside. "A white mage of Baron and a Summoner of Mist?" he said, acknowledging them for the first time. "My archivists could use your skills to help in the translation of the texts. If you feel up to the challenge, of course."

"We would, but neither of us has been trained in the reading of texts so ancient," Rosa replied. "We would be nothing but a hindrance."

"If you would do nothing more than speak to the people here, to inform them of the goings-on of the world, I'm sure everyone could do for a bit of news. At least, it would help to lend us some context to our work," the elder told her, and then flicked his gaze toward Rydia. Her cheeks flamed to have his attention fixed upon her. How had he known who she was—what she was? What thoughts were hidden under that regard, she wondered.

"But that can wait," the elder continued with a frown. "You look ragged and in need of rest. I will have you put up in rooms straightaway; however, I would like to speak to you a bit further," he said, addressing this last to Cecil.

The elder stood, and so did everyone else in the room, while the white mage at the elder's side stepped around the table and beckoned everyone but Cecil to follow.

They were ushered out of the room, but Cecil stayed behind to continue his meeting with the elder. The white mage who accompanied them was sparing with her words as she gave directions to Edge and pointed to the west wing, indicating he would find his room there. Turning her attention back to Rydia and Rosa, the mage personally led them to the east wing of the building. They passed the main entrance and its foyer; through several doors that led to wide rooms filled with tables covered with books. Beyond those, lay an impressive set of double doors. The aide produced an elaborate brass key and inserted it into the lock, prying open one of the doors and gesturing them through.

"This dormitory is reserved for the women," the aide explained. "We keep each dormitory separated by gender, lest the students become distracted from their studies by studies of a different nature," she added in a wry tone. Rosa grinned, knowingly, but Rydia stared at the aide, perplexed. What else would they be studying, she wondered.

Once they had stepped through the doorway, the two of them were faced with the dormitories of the east wing. It was a vast hall, lined on either side by dozens upon dozens of rooms. Sunlight pierced through the rooms whose doors had been left open, and the entire wing had a definitive academic atmosphere. There were personal touches, of course. A soft burgundy carpet ran the length of the hall, and there were paintings hanging in the spaces between the doorways depicting waterscapes and clouds and other airy subjects. There were haphazard piles of books stacked against walls, boots lined up next to the rooms of their owners; and once they had traversed half the length of the wing, they found themselves in a grand common room. A solarium loomed above them with its domed ceiling, the mullions casting a radial pattern on the floor below.

There were several overstuffed chairs set about the circular meeting of the ways, and on either side of the room where the main corridor didn't cut through it, staircases with elegantly carved banisters led to the dormitory's lower level.

The aide kept walking into the second half of the wing and then stopped, pointing.

"The third room on the left and the tenth room on the right are both vacant. You're welcome to stay here for the time being," she told them.

"Thank you," Rosa told the aide, staring at the line of doors with bewilderment.

"Meals are served promptly at the six hours. The next is in an hour," they were informed. "There are spare robes in the wardrobes should you feel the need to don something more...fresh," she said, noting with disdain, the state of their current garments.

"Thank you for your help," Rosa told her.

"Yes, thank you," Rydia echoed.

"It is the least we can do for such esteemed guests," the aide assured them, her expression doing nothing to add sincerity to her statement. "Is there anything else you require?"

They both shook their heads, and the aide turned smartly on her heels and left them to their own devices.

"Which room do you want?" Rydia asked after a moment, overwhelmed by the hall.

"Whichever one has a bed," Rosa replied immediately.

Rydia grinned. "I'm fairly certain both do," she pointed out.

"Then whichever one is fine," Rosa added, resting her hands on her hips and gazing at Rydia expectantly.

Rydia walked to the door on the right, but before she had a chance to inspect her room, she turned to look at Rosa who was frowning as she turned some thought over in her mind.

"Rosa, do you really think the whale, or the 'great whale' or whatever it is the elder called it, is still functional after all these years?"

Rosa's expression fell, and she looked at Rydia very seriously. "I'd like to believe that it is," she answered quietly. "I'll be damned if all of this is for naught—" she shook her head. "If the elder said his visions have shown him this vessel, then I will believe that what he was shown will come to pass."

Rydia considered that for a moment, wondering if the elder's visions were reliable, or if they were nothing but passing fancies.

"I hope so too," she admitted, pursing her lips.

"I'll see you at the evening meal?" Rosa ventured, her tone lighter than before.

Rydia scoffed. "Of course!"

Rosa rolled her eyes and walked to her room, pushing the door further ajar. "These rooms are for students?" she gaped.

Rydia glanced at her own accommodations. Her expression soon morphed into honest surprise.

The room was immaculate. It was of modest size, but well furnished with anything a student could need. A desk with a chair, a bookshelf, a bed that looked beyond comfortable with airy sheets. There was a wardrobe, and beside it, a stand with a wash basin with a towel folded over the side. Rydia dropped her pack to the floor by the door and flung herself onto the bed with abandon. She had forgotten what a mattress felt like after all this time...Bless whoever had invented them.

Her window was cracked open, and she could hear gulls calling. Mysidia was a soothing place, she decided. It held the weight of age, but the promise of innovation. Bestiaries, maps, the study of potions and tinctures, magic—all of it happened in this city. It was like being in the Feymarch again, only everything here was tangible and real—the sky was not an illusion made by magic, and the sounds she heard were being made by living beings.

Rydia sat up and felt a pang of regret. She was finding more and more reasons to stay away from the Feymarch, than she was rationalizing why she should return. When had her thoughts on the subject changed? She stared at the window for a moment, and resolved to find a time to speak to one of the Eidolons as soon as she was able.

With that silent oath in place, Rydia stood up and began inspecting her room. She pulled open drawers and found a pen and a half-filled ink pot, and in another drawer, she found a sheaf of papers. She brought her hand to her chin, while an idea crossed her mind. Would the mages be angry if she made use of what had been left in her room? After all, the aide had asked if there was anything else they might need...

Turning, she rummaged through her pack until she found a few of her own books. There were several passages in the ancient language of her people, that she wanted to translate into modern forms. Black had given her a book with definitions and alphabets, pronunciations, and symbol keys. It was as if her people wanted to make it especially difficult to master the higher disciplines of magic, and so convoluted their texts with writings in the old style as well as in code. She had days, perhaps weeks, to master spells that in the past hundred years only a handful of mages had ever performed.

She flipped through the pages she had already marked, and then glanced listlessly at the window. It was a beautiful day, perfect for reading, and this was just the city for the task.

She gathered a handful of paper from the desk, and found behind it, a stick of charcoal. Taking all of these in a stack balanced atop her most recent reading, she pulled her door open with her foot, and returned to the hall. She had an hour to explore, and she started by carefully navigating the grand staircase attached to the solarium. On the lower level, was another series of doors and rooms, but at the end of those, was another door opening onto a bright patio. She walked in that direction, surprised that no one crossed her path on her journey across the dormitory.

Rydia exited the main building and sat cross-legged on the warm tiles. There were students on the terrace below her, practicing with their mentors. The adults were wearing robes of blue and white, but the children wore a motley of colors. As she observed them, Rydia noticed that each student had scarves with tassels attached to their clothing, and that each represented a different discipline. Some children were learning the most basic of elemental spells, while others had advanced to the intermediate difficulties. None of them were learning advanced magic, but she was. The book across her own lap held the intricate invocations, and rhythms; all of them written in the archaic style that required she not only learn them, but translate them as well.

For now, it was Quake-Titan's wrath, Tyrant's bane. The inked letters glittered in the sun, reflecting geometric patterns on her face and arms.

She continued to read, translating as she went. She had the sheaf of parchment on the tile beside her and the stick of hard charcoal in her hand.

She sat where she was for several minutes scribbling down notes, absorbing the sound of the students chanting and practicing below; the hum of insects in distant trees, and the calls of the gulls above. But after a while, she knew she wasn't alone. It wasn't what she heard, but rather, what she didn't-a stilling of the ambient sounds behind her. She prepared herself, and glanced up when Edge crouched down beside her.

Her eyes met his, and his pouting expression showed his obvious disappointment at her lack of surprise.

"More homework?" He asked with a sigh, nodding to the book in her lap.

Rydia cradled the tome protectively; after all, no mortal was allowed to read it beyond what the Summoner laws permitted, and she snapped the book shut with a thump. "I don't expect you to know what a high summoner does," she replied acidly, "but the job doesn't come without obligations.

"Obligations like studying," he noticed, looking down at her. "At all times," he added with a sympathetic grin.

Rydia sighed, rolling her eyes in an exasperated fashion. "Do you have any idea how much concentration is required to execute the higher level spells?"she asked. "Were you aware that the slightest error could cause—"

"A castle to almost split in two?" he reminded her, interrupting her thought.

She frowned. "Yes. Exactly," she recalled. "Which was your fault, by the way."

Edge was doing a very good job of looking offended. "My fault?" he asked. "There I was, about to ask you how you were doing, and you nearly tore open the jaws of the earth right beneath me."

"You're quick, I'm sure you would have managed," Rydia said with disappointment.

He laughed. "Right after I'd taken you with me, maybe."

Rydia ran a hand through her hair, and huffed out a breath. "What do you want, Edge?"

When he didn't answer right away, she looked at him again. He was gazing back at her quizzically.

"Here we are—at the end of the world, waiting for a ship of legend to save us—and you're reading a book," he said succinctly, pointing to the tome in her lap.

"Are you saying that you're spending your time more nobly than I am?" she asked airily. "From where I sit, you're doing nothing but bothering others for your own amusement. I happen to be teaching myself magic of the highest order, an art form all its own—one which takes years of careful study, recitation, and practice to master."

"You have the Eidolons—what do you need the higher spells for?" Edge countered, leaning closer.

Rydia faltered, feeling her face flush. "The Eidolons, are—well, they're—

"A liability?" Edge ventured.

Rydia frowned, feeling that her privacy had somehow been invaded. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Edge drew out, "That if something were to happen to one of them in the midst of a summoning, you yourself would be in danger."

"How did you—"

"Your mother," he said simply.

Rydia stared at her hands. "Yes, there's that."

"Your magic is powerful enough as it is," Edge continued, looking at her sideways, almost warily. "Why do you need to be practicing lines as if it's music you need to memorize for a performance?"

"You have your methods and I have mine," she replied archly, glancing at him. "My magic might be powerful, but I'm capable of more. I can learn more, conjure more, and if keeping myself engrossed in these books will help me to learn the incantations I need to do so, then I'll learn them. This is a performance. This could be my final performance, and I don't want to stand on the brink of disaster knowing that I was only fighting with half of my best."

He looked back at her in silence for a moment. "Fair enough."

"Although," Rydia continued, reaching for something she had found tucked in her book and had set aside, "While you're here, perhaps you could figure out what this is for me."

She held up a scraggly bit of flesh that looked to be a tail, holding it delicately between thumb and forefinger as if it might be pestilent.

"It's a tail," he remarked, unimpressed. He reached out for it, twirling it a little in front of his face. "Looks like a rat tail."

"A rat's tail," Rydia replied, frowning.

Edge sighed, as if bored. "What was that smith in the underworld saying about tails?" he asked. "Something about there being a person who traded in them?"

Rydia glanced up at him, unsure.

"I don't remember," she admitted.

He dropped the tail back in her palm and she frowned.

"Might be nothing after all-just a snack for that Eidolon pet of yours," he added.

Rydia screwed her features into a scowl. "Who, Black?"

Edge crossed his arms, looking at her in an odd way—the way he did when he was taking her measure. "What is he to you, anyway? Your personal guardian? Do summoners even have such things?"

She flicked her hair behind her shoulder, annoyed, and looked at him squarely. "Don't princes have sitters to make sure they don't injure themselves?"

He grinned at her remark. "Not in Eblan, sweetheart."

She narrowed her eyes to slits. "Don't call me that."

His expression morphed into something decidedly roguish. "High Summoner," he said, testing it out.

She made a disgusted sound and waved her hand as if to ward him off. "Not that, either," she whined.

"What would you prefer?" he asked.

Her glare turned hard. "My name would suffice," she replied.

"So, Rydia," he hummed, bumping her shoulder with his own. Rydia pursed her lips, annoyed at the presumed familiarity. "Explain to me why a summoner's magic sounds so very different from that of the Mysidians?"

She blinked. "What?"

He smiled in a sympathetic, yet mocking way. "What do you mean, 'what?'?" he asked. "You were listening to them, weren't you?"

It took her a moment to realize what he was talking about and then she sighed. "I heard them, yes, but I wasn't listening," she pointed out, glancing over the balcony's banister at the students below.

"None of the words they're using are ones that I recognize," he explained, nodding in their direction.

Rydia scoffed. "As if you'd know anything on the subject," she was quick to inform him.

He looked at her incredulously. "I know more about the subject than you think, but thank you for the assumption."

She frowned at him, surprised by this bit of information. "Am I to understand that you have been paying attention to me all of this time for academic reasons?"

"You really are not very good with subtext, are you?" he muttered dryly.

At her bewildered expression, he continued. "I wanted to talk to you," he admitted wearily. "But talking to you without a reason is damn near impossible."

Rydia's mind swam. "If all you wanted to do was talk to me, why didn't you just ask me?" she asked.

Edge's face went blank. "Yes, because I've had such good luck at that since we've met."

"How do you know the difference between my spells and theirs?" she asked instead, eagerly looking up at him.

"You're not the first mage I've come across," he answered, and she could tell he was hiding something. She could tell, with or without the mask.

"I didn't think mages frequented Eblan," she replied.

His gaze wandered for a moment, as he searched for an explanation. Rydia knew that the longer he delayed in answering, the more he was trying to hide.

"I couldn't help but notice that the language they're using doesn't sound the same."

"The language?" Rydia asked. "It must be the same, otherwise the spell wouldn't work properly."

He looked at her flatly. "The language, probably," he retorted, "but either one is older than the other, or it's a different dialect."

Rydia frowned. She had never thought of her magic and its incantations as a language with its own rules. She had always supposed that it was a variation of the common tongue, a subset of words deriving power from the crystals. Or often, she had thought of it as music, an art. Was it possible that there were an infinite number of variations to the architecture of magic's language—allowing for dialects and accents and even forms? Hadn't she coaxed her own magic in unexpected ways?

"I have no idea why my magic is different than theirs," she answered slowly. "Mysidia and Mist have been apart from each other for a long time. It's possible the incantations changed over the years, but maintained the same intent."

"Interesting," Edge said, nodding.

Rydia eyed him again, curiously. "What mages did you know in Eblan?" she pressed.

He stared at her for a long moment, considering her, and then set his lips in a straight line. "A story for another time, perhaps," he said finally, standing up.

Her eyes followed him, irritated that he always managed to wrangle so much information out of her, and yet she was never able to get any out of him. He began to walk away, leaving their conversation to hang in the air with a casual wave of his hand.

She stood up and followed him. "Let me understand this—so long as you're the one in control of the conversation, you can direct it wherever you wish, but once I decide to take the reins, you feel the need to leave," she called after him.

He threw a glance over his shoulder, a determined look on his face. "Yes, that's exactly it."

"And only you get to decide this?" Rydia protested, hopping to catch up with him.

Edge groaned piteously, realizing she was intent on following him the entire length of the patio, and finally spun on his heel so that he could walk backwards and address her simultaneously. "The conversation lost its usefulness for me," he answered flippantly. "If I have nothing to gain from it, it's best to cut my losses and retreat before you do something like this," he said, gesturing vaguely in her direction.

A loud bell clanging in the tower, distracted them both, and Edge's smooth gait faltered on an uneven stone. A short laugh burst from Rydia's lips as Edge glared. She couldn't help but mock him, especially when he took such pains at being suave, but his attention was soon diverted by something behind them. She turned to look, and saw a line of mages filing out of the dormitories and across the terrace to another building around the corner connected to the main by a covered walkway. It was time for the evening meal, she realized, as she looked over her shoulder again at Edge only to find him gone.

She arched a brow and returned to where she'd left her things, rushing after the mages to take a place at the end of the line.

0-0-0-0-0

Rosa was already in the dining hall when Rydia entered, and for a moment, she was dumbfounded, because a host of faces all turned to stare at her arrival. There were mostly women sitting in the room, but also a few men, and several children.

Rydia swallowed and ducked her head as she made a path straight for her friend, the only person in the room whom she knew.

She plopped herself on the bench beside Rosa and the white mage looked at her with a ghost of a bemused smile.

"Get lost?" her friend asked.

Rydia sighed. "I wasn't expecting the dining hall to be so far away," she admitted, glancing around the room.

"Yes, I was expecting it to be closer as well," Rosa said, poking at her plate. Rydia eyed the fare, and saw fish nestled in a bed of long grained rice. Her eyes roamed the room for the source of the meal, and she saw it at a table with a stack of plates on one end, and several large iron pots on the other.

Rydia stood and ventured over to the table, getting into line with several other robed students. They glanced at her sideways, but no one spoke to her, and she felt too out of place to start conversation on her own. She did, however, notice a blonde pig-tailed girl a few years younger than herself staring at her from the other side of the table while she ladled rice onto her plate. Rydia kept her gaze low, hoping to discourage awkward questions.

Once she had returned to the table, Rosa had only picked at her food, a glassy look in her eyes as she stared across the room. Rydia sat down beside her and tilted her head, trying to find what her friend was looking at. When she realized Rosa was only staring into space, she waited for her friend to speak. She waited a long time.

"Cecil's still speaking to the elder?" she mentioned after a while.

Rosa frowned, the first expression she'd made since Rydia had returned to the table. "Yes, apparently they have more to speak about than the end of the world," Rosa replied, glancing at her.

Rydia studied her friend curiously. "What do you mean?"

"I just can't help but feel that I'm not—" Rosa paused, choosing her words. "I have a hard time understanding how a voice on a mountain top could alter, so profoundly, the course of his life. I have yet to figure out whose voice it was, let alone what this has to do with the moon. For all the time I've known him, Cecil has kept many things to himself, but at least the important things he would share with me. 'My son', he said the voice had called him. What am I to think of that? Could it have been Odin—our king? But what would Odin have known about the Ancient Ones and the moon, or of this mighty ship? So who else, then?" she asked, gripping her mug until her knuckles turned white. "I always knew there was something different about Cecil, something that set him apart from other men, but to be called to the moon so specifically? By whom? For what purpose? He won't tell me any of it, and to think that while he's on this righteous path—there simply isn't any room for me."

Rydia took a moment to examine her plate, not entirely sure what Rosa was going on about. This group without Rosa was no group at all, of course Cecil knew that. "Rosa, I don't think that's the real issue."

"First he left me behind in Baron," Rosa continued, disregarding Rydia's concerns. "Then he didn't want me traveling to Fabul. He wasn't keen on me continuing to the underworld, either, and now... I'm nothing but a hindrance to him, a stumbling block," Rosa complained, spearing her fish with her fork like a fisherman.

Rydia looked at her sideways, and then glanced around the room again. "I see Edge isn't here," she noticed, attempting to change the topic.

Rosa let out a dark chuckle. "Ah, the other man of the hour," she retorted. "At least he doesn't have a prophecy concerning him; foretelling that he will save the world singlehandedly with nothing but the words of a nameless ghost to guide him."

"Rosa," Rydia appealed.

"I have had more than enough of men and their egos," Rosa replied with force. "Men and their honor, and their pride, and their vanity."

"Have you tried to speak to Cecil about this?"

"He's too busy saving me from having to worry, rather than explaining anything to me."

"Explaining what?" Rydia asked.

"It seems to me that no matter how this ends—history will always remember Cecil as one of the noble heroes of the age. The paladin who stood against the tide of darkness and rescued the world from a dire fate. I, on the other hand...how will I be remembered? The white mage who stood by his side? The woman with nothing to show but her undying love? Her devotion? I'll be nothing but a footnote, nothing but a speck on history's page."

"Rosa, history will remember you more kindly than that," Rydia said instead.

"Will it?" Rosa asked, crossly. "How do you think history will remember you, Rydia? As a warrior of the age, or an orphan who followed in the footsteps of her elders to whatever end?"

Rydia studied her friend, not entirely sure what Rosa was getting at. "Shouldn't we be worrying about survival first, and glory second?" she asked, eventually. "What does it matter how history remembers us?"

"Perhaps not history, then," Rosa replied. "But certainly in stories. I will always be an invisible second—the woman in the wings. The woman waiting for the man she loves to realize that she isn't with him for the sake of the world. That she doesn't wish for herself to be used as leverage against him by his enemies. I am here for his sake, and his alone, but I have my own skills and talents. I am a trusted companion, and yet he thinks me a burden—a liability."

"Rosa, Cecil does not see you as a burden," Rydia objected, becoming alarmed by her friend's intense feelings on the subject.

"He hasn't so much as looked at me for days. Kain's betrayal—somehow I sense that I'm to blame for this. Was it truly the case that I toyed with Kain's emotions—that I convinced him that I was free to be persuaded? Is that why he turned against Cecil and our cause? Does Cecil think I misled his friend into loving me?" Rosa demanded.

Rydia set down her fork, aware that half the eyes of the room were on them. "Rosa," Rydia tried again. "Cecil wants you here. He wants you with us."

"I doubt that," Rosa replied angrily. "If this ship appears, just wait to see how quickly he tells me to stay behind."

Rydia began to feel sick to her stomach, imagining a voyage to the moon without her friend. Would that mean that she would be left behind as well?

"I need to speak to him," Rosa announced, standing up. "I won't be left out of this any longer."

Rydia watched Rosa stride away from the table, skirting clusters of mages in groups of four or five on her way to the exit. Rydia felt the absence of her friend keenly, glancing around the room at all of the strange faces.

She wiggled in her seat, re-playing their conversation to herself. Rydia placed her hands flat on the table, gathering her thoughts. Their group was crumbling, and she felt as though her grip on the table was the only thing she could be sure of in the moment.

Rydia was about to stand and return to her room, when the girl with blonde hair sat down beside her, sliding Rydia's book away from her and flipping the front cover open. Rydia jumped, surprised by the intrusion. She glanced at the girl, who was making a face at the contents of the tome, and quickly snatched the book back.

"I'm sorry, but this book is—"

"Forbidden?" the girl asked conspiratorially.

"Only I'm allowed to read it," Rydia explained weakly.

"Says who?" the girl asked. "I'm allowed to read any of the texts here, so why can't I read that?"

"This is very old," Rydia hedged. "It's old, and it's not mine, and I'm only looking after it—"

The girl's eyes lit up. "Are you helping the archivists with the translations?" she asked. "You must be, since you have a book that looks old enough to be in the ancient section."

"The ancient section?" Rydia inquired.

"Yes, the section of the library that only the masters are allowed to touch. Something about preservation."

Rydia felt her palms begin to sweat, as she attempted to scoot away from the strange girl. Her plans were thwarted when someone else sat down at Rosa's empty spot. She looked across the table as another interloper sat on the other side of the table. Rydia stiffened, surrounded on all sides.

"Who are you?" a young man in green robes wearing a black cord with red, blue, and yellow knots on it, asked her. "I'm Darryl," he announced as an after-thought.

"I'm—"Rydia faltered, uncomfortable at revealing too many details. "I'm a mage," she said, eyeing them sideways. "From far away," she added.

The student of black magic, Darryl, was not convinced. "I thought you were the summoner," he said. "If your green hair is any indication."

"Well, yes, but—"

"Darryl, you've made her uncomfortable. Can't you see that she's wilting?" the blonde girl with pigtails scolded him. "I'm Delphia, by the way."

"What do you have to be concerned about?" Darryl asked, after rolling his eyes at Delphia, and giving Rydia a proper once-over.

"It's just that—your people and mine. They had their differences in the past, and we've been apart for so much time..."

"She's referring to the great divide—the purge," the girl wearing gray robes on her left explained, throwing a sprout at Darryl.

Darryl's eyes suddenly went wide. "Oh! I thought that was just one of the elder's fairy tales."

"Fairy tales?" the gray-robed girl remarked. "It was one of the bloodiest times in history."

Rydia blushed with embarrassment and shame. "I didn't know if Mysidia still held the Summoners in contempt."

"It's been a few years since then," Darryl mused, considering her. "I think we can forgive you."

Rydia breathed a sigh of relief, slumping in her seat.

"So are the Eidolons your servants?" Delphia asked.

"No, they're—"

"Pets?" the girl in gray ventured.

"Let her answer, Cybil!" Delphia protested, gesturing at Rydia again. "Chocobos, it's as if Palom never left."

Rydia's brows crawled together out of discomfiture. "We are allies," she explained. "Partners."

"You're friends with the summoned beasts?" Darryl asked. "You're friends with Leviathan, the sinker of whole fleets?"

Rydia shook her head. "I wouldn't say friends," she corrected.

"Darryl, the summoners don't have permission to summon whomever they wish," Delphia chided him. "The lord of the seas wouldn't bend his head to just anyone."

"Can you summon him?" Cybil asked brightly.

"I—" Rydia stammered, gripping the edge of the table harder. "I have earned his permission, yes."

The three mages stared at her. "The lord of all waters, answers to you—a girl? How old are you, anyway?"

Rydia laughed nervously. "Why does my age surprise you?"

"I always thought the summoners were elderly masters who were sequestered away."

"In the old times maybe, but my mother was hardly old when she began the rites."

"The rites? You mean, the contests of strength and will?"

"Yes, that's part of it."

Cybil sighed, staring at her with adoration. "That's so much more exotic than studying here; always at the grindstone with our noses in books. You actually get to duel."

Rydia scoffed. "I've spent most of the last ten years with my nose in books," she pointed out. "It's not as glamorous as you think."

"You came with the dark knight, didn't you?" Delphia asked. "Have you known him long?"

"I met him when I was a girl," Rydia replied, and then paused, catching herself.

Darryl looked at her, puzzled. "When you were a girl? You've known him for a very long time, then."

"Not that long, actually," Rydia answered. She was so used to explaining this to people who already knew her entire story, that she wasn't sure where to begin. She bit her lip, hoping they wouldn't press the issue. The look on Darryl's face indicated anything but.

"Not that long?" he asked. "He can't be that old, can he?"

"Well, see—" Rydia elaborated.

"What about the other man who arrived with you?" Cybil asked, changing the subject.

"Who, Edge?" Rydia asked, surprised, twisting to face the other girl.

"The man with silver hair," Cybil repeated, grinning sheepishly.

Rydia's eyes narrowed. "Ah. Yes," she forced out. "He's extremely—"

"Handsome," Cybil sighed.

"We saw him speaking to you on the terrace," Delphia added. "Cybil has been talking of nothing else. Do you know him well?"

"Well enough to know that he's obnoxious, self-centered, vain, obsessed with revenge..."

"Where is he from?" Cybil asked, disregarding everything Rydia had said.

"Eblan," Rydia supplied off-handedly. "Really, he's everything I despise about spoiled brats," she said mostly to herself.

"Is he rich?" Cybil asked.

"Oh, I suppose," Rydia mused. "Aren't most princes rich? Though, his attitude leaves a lot to be desired—"

"He's rich, Delphia!" Cybil twittered to her friend, speaking around Rydia.

"And he has an irritating tendency to always appear when you least expect him to—"

"He's mysterious!" Cybil shrieked, fanning herself with her hand.

Rydia glanced at Cybil, and then looked at Delphia. "Is she alright?"

Delphia shrugged helplessly. "Oh, she's hopeless. But at least you've given her plenty to think about."

"Think about?" Rydia asked, arching a brow. "What's there to think about?"

"Do you like him?" Cybil interrupted her.

"What?" Rydia demanded.

"If you don't like him, would you mind introducing me to him?"

Rydia's expression morphed into disbelief. "Introduce you? To him?"

"Girls," Darryl complained, standing up from the table.

"I don't think I can," Rydia protested, seeking an escape. "I have to check on my friend. Excuse me," she said, finally prying herself away from the table.

Rydia practically ran out of the dining hall, carrying her book and papers with her. She dodged the milling crowds of students and fully fledged mages. Apparently, the evening hours was their time to congregate in the hallways and gossip about the day. She could tell their eyes were following her as she ducked and weaved between them and back to her room. She dumped everything onto her bed, and then took a gulp of air, hands on her hips.

"Mages," she hissed to herself.

They were still whispering and giggling in the hallway, and Rydia sighed, staring up at the ceiling. She threw her door open again and walked briskly out of the dormitory and back to the patio, and from there, down the staircase, and across the second terrace, and then beyond that, to a path that continued down the side of a steep hill.

There were trees lining the path and Rydia soon lost sight of the tower beneath the bowers.

Luminaries lit the path, and the sound of river water bubbling over stone met her ears, echoing off of the hillside.

She walked to the bottom, where the path leveled out and followed the river that flanked the city on its journey to the sea. The air had cooled and the humidity settled on her skin. The night sounds were peaceful, reminding her of the end of summer.

She found a place by the edge of the water and settled down next to a rock that was three times her size. In this shallow inlet, she was hedged in by an overgrown stand of trees and high reeds. She rested her face on her hands with a heavy sigh. This was the city of Mysidia? One of the great schools of magic and the home of the water crystal?

Speaking to Cybil and Delphia had reminded her how out of place she was—that she was the last of a dying discipline, a people whose legacy was founded on the persecution of others. She wasn't like them. Her magic was different—even Edge could tell.

Where did she fit into this world?

Her thoughts returned to the promise she had made to Ramuh—that she would atone for the crimes of her people. What they had done in the past had been no better than Golbez and his present plans. Would she ever have the chance to see to that promise? Would she live long enough to see justice? Would she be able to establish herself among the kingdoms and nations of the world—she alone—as the only summoner?

She stared at the water, and then picked up a stone and skimmed it across the surface. It made a delicate plop when it sank, disturbing a few water skimmers. She was still wearing her robes from the underworld, with the same stains and the same red dirt embedded into the fibers. They clung uncomfortably and she felt as though she was wearing a second skin. She wasn't sure how sacred the waters near Mysidia were considered, but she found herself fighting the urge to jump in.

She had never particularly been one to break rules, and she knew very little of Mysidia's laws and traditions, but there was something tempting about jumping in, clothing and all.

She removed her boots and dipped her toes. The water was warm, insulated by the reeds. She crept into the shallow water, and then waded out into deeper water until she began to feel the river's current. Between the moss covered branches of the trees above her, she could see the glimmer of the twin moons. One had begun to glow a peculiar shade of red, and the other, blue. She stared, and the red moon twinkled, resonating with a certain glow. Had the twin moon always done that, she wondered, or was it responding to the tower of Babil and the crystals there?

She sighed, clenching her eyes shut as she dunked her head beneath the water. It was silty and reeds brushed against her arms and legs, but at least the river replaced the scent of sulfur with that of stream and soil. She wiped the water from her eyes and nose and turned, dragging her robes through the reed-strewn water, until a snapping twig at the shore made her stop. She stilled and let the last ripple reach the shore before she searched the darkness with her eyes.

No one was there, but she was afraid that she'd broken some taboo, and quickly waded to the edge, pulling herself out of the water and hastily wringing out her tresses before she could be reprimanded.

When she looked up again, she noticed a silvery shape among the tree trunks, and froze. She strained her eyes, and eventually Edge stepped forward from the trees into the moonlight. She frowned at this intrusion of her privacy for the second time that day.

"I thought you were one of the mages," she hissed. "What do you want now, Edge. Speak fast, or I'll turn you into a toad and leave you here."

He hesitated, and she closed her eyes, beginning to chant the simple singsong incantation she had known since childhood. Within a moment, she felt a finger pressed against her lips and she opened her eyes again.

"Don't-" he warned, keeping his voice low.

She sighed, allowing her spell to dissipate like vapor in the air. When Edge was sure he was safe, he pulled his finger away.

"Only you would threaten transformative magic," he complained.

"Only you would sneak up on a girl while she's trying to find peace and quiet. Besides, it would make for a good story-the frog prince."

Edge rolled his eyes, and took a step back. "I came here searching for a place to hide. Much to my surprise, this little hideaway was already taken."

"You? Peace and quiet?" Rydia asked archly. "What, was Cecil not available to be harangued?"

He grinned. "He was not."

She smiled, and then made a face. "Hiding from what?" she asked.

His own expression became forced, as he turned away from her, walking toward the path beyond the trees. "People," he answered.

Rydia gathered up her sodden robes and boots and strode after him.

"You know, I couldn't help but notice that you were uncomfortable in the Feymarch, and you're uncomfortable here," she called out to him. "You didn't have a single snide remark to make during the entire meeting with the elder. Were you ill?"

"I said nothing, because I had nothing to say," he replied tersely over his shoulder.

"You always have something to say," she pointed out, pursing her lips. "Except, of course, when it's inconvenient for you. We never finished our conversation earlier."

He rolled his eyes, and glared at her. "Our conversation was more than finished," he objected. "That's what happens when one of the participants leaves."

"I think," Rydia said, walking faster in order to catch up to him, which was difficult to do while barefooted. "That you are hiding something from me. And you want me to know that you are."

The faintest hint of a smile lifted the corner of his lip as he looked back at her. "Oh, do I?"

"You asked why my magic was different from the students here, and then you ran away like a coward when I asked you how you knew."

"I have ears to hear, you know."

"It's more than that," she objected. "You know something about magic."

"Something, yes. That does not, an expert, make me."

Rydia shook her head. "I thought Eblan had no mages. You are a kingdom of the sword, aren't you? That and, oh what did you call it—ninjutsu?"

"We have several disciplines," he replied.

"Yes, but none of those include the disciplines of black and white magic. What do you know of it?"

Edge stopped walking suddenly and Rydia made a graceless stop herself.

"It was a not-so-innocent conversation starter. Forget that I asked it at all."

"You were glaring at the elder as if he had done something to personally offend you," Rydia added before Edge could escape her again.

"There isn't much love between my people and Mysidia," he admitted, crossing his arms and remaining a noticeable distance away.

Rydia looked at him, reading his posture as defensive. "There is a feud between Eblan and Mysidia?" she asked.

Edge made a strangled sound in his throat, and it was obvious that he had hoped to be rid of her by now. He looked at her again, and Rydia arched a brow.

"Not the kingdoms so much as my family-"

Rydia made a lopsided smile. "Your family? Did one of them insult your honor?" she quipped.

Edge's manner changed. "My mother was Mysidian," he answered stiffly.

Rydia's smile slipped, as she sensed she might have actually struck a nerve. "Why did she leave?" she asked quietly, adjusting her approach.

Edge studied her for a moment. "She didn't belong here," he said simply.

"And you blame Mysidia because of this? Why didn't she belong here?" Rydia asked, concerned.

Edge sighed, and began to walk away again. "Ask the elder."

Rydia remained rooted in place. "She practiced magic—you learned the language from her," she realized, glancing up at him.

"The exact question I had been hoping to dodge. Thank you, Rydia," he said, stopping again.

"Why did you bring the topic up, if you were hoping not to have it redirected at yourself. That was foolish."

"You're quicker than I expected," he answered. "Most would have made no connection at all."

"You're angry with me," she realized.

"Annoyed," he replied.

"You brought it up," she reminded him.

"Rydia, there is a certain art to conversation making," he informed her. "You don't aim for the jugular on the first go unless you are trying to start a fight."

"I wasn't trying to start a fight!" she objected. "I was trying to get anything out of you at all. You say so many things without ever really saying anything at all."

He gave her a dark smile. "And that—is the art of conversation," he said.

Rydia rested her hands on her hips, and nodded at him subjectively. "Is that why your people wear masks? To hide the truth from everyone and anyone?" she asked, taking the lead from him and walking along the path on her return to the dormitory.

She couldn't hear his footfalls, but she knew he was following.

"So now I'm to understand that you're annoyed with me?" he asked once they had climbed half of the hill.

"Yes," she snipped. "You understand correctly."

"Rydia—"

"Don't even bother," she warned. "All you're going to do is become more angry that I would dare ask you any questions at all."

She quickened her step until they reached the terrace, and once she was halfway across, she stopped. There was a familiar figure leaving the dormitory, but Rydia had to squint to be certain of who it was. It was Rosa, she realized, wearing her traveling cloak and carrying her pack.

"Rosa?" Rydia murmured to herself, and then began walking quickly forward. "Rosa!" she called out, this time loud enough for the other woman to hear. "Where are you going?" she asked when she had lessened the gap between them.

Rosa peered out through the darkness at her, surprised and dismayed. "Rydia," Rosa muttered in response, her expression hardening. "I'm going to a place where my presence will be desired," she announced.

"You look like you're planning to leave the city," Rydia pointed out.

Rosa crossed her arms and looked away. "If he's going to leave me behind, I may as well send myself away."

Rydia narrowed her eyes, trying to understand the situation. "Rosa," she appealed. "You're being unreasonable."

"I just need to clear my head!" Rosa snapped.

"But where are you going?" Rydia asked.

"Just leave me be!" Rosa insisted. "And please don't follow me," she added, rushing off across the terrace until she disappeared around the corner of the dormitory and into the night.

Rydia stood in place, baffled, and then remembered that Edge was standing behind her. She turned on her heel, a suspicion forming in her mind.

"You said something to her, didn't you," she accused.

Edge looked back at her innocently. "To make her pack her things and leave? No."

"What did you say?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes. "What did I tell her?" he retorted. "I told her the truth—what any sane person would do under the circumstances."

Rydia stared at him, thinking back to her conversation with Rosa over dinner. "You have her convinced that Cecil thinks she turned Kain against us," Rydia realized, balling her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. Somehow, starting this argument with Edge reminded her of just how good he was at arguing, and how inadequate she was.

Edge crossed his arms as he frowned. "I warned her that she is less benign than she thinks."

"What are you talking about?" Rydia demanded, helplessly shaking her head. "What could she possibly have done to have deserved this?"

Edge laughed, and it came out dry sounding and harsh. "What has she done?" he asked. "It isn't so much what she's done so much as what she is."

"She is a person, not a thing," Rydia replied vehemently, offended by the implication.

"She is a beautiful woman," he corrected her. "A companion, a comforting ear, a healer, and an object of affection—it is her misfortune that she became the object of affection for two men who were such good friends. Her choosing Cecil is the very reason why we are here, and why Kain is elsewhere, following the only course he felt he had left."

"I don't understand," Rydia said, feeling the need to pace. It was moments like these when she cursed her upbringing away from other humans.

Edge made a face, his patience wearing thin. Rydia glared back at him, unsure of what he had expected of her in the first place. Relationships were not things she easily understood, let alone of a romantic nature.

"You're not a man—it's difficult to explain," he complained.

"Please try," Rydia pressed, wanting a better answer than vague allusions.

"He lost her," Edge said at last.

"Who, Kain?" Rydia inquired, raising her brows.

Edge rolled his eyes, annoyed at having to elaborate. "He loved her, perhaps as much as Cecil; but for her own reasons, Rosa chose Cecil. She chose the white knight. Kain had two options—to play the role of the friend and wish happiness on the blessed couple, or to seek a way to win Rosa's affections. When that failed? He had nothing left—he was a man with much pride and accomplishments and nothing to show for his trouble. For all his flaws, Kain is an excellent warrior. I am not surprised that the promise of prestige, or perhaps even the love of the woman he desired, was enough to lure him to Golbez's side."

"You really think he loved her that much?" Rydia asked, feeling ill with anxiety.

"I think he desired her, as one desires the shiny new toy of a best friend. How sincere were his feelings? I don't know, but Rosa needed to know. She needed to be aware that while she flaunted her affection for the one, she was driving a stake through the heart of the other."

Rydia crossed her arms, shivering in the night air. "Yes, and now you've driven her off entirely," she complained, nodding toward the dormitory. "She has accepted all of the so-called blame you've laid on her, and she's left us. She mentioned something earlier about being nothing but a burden to Cecil, a liability."

"She's probably just gone on a walk through the city, maybe beyond the gates. This was bound to happen sooner or later—a lover's spat. I'm sure they'll settle it before anything important happens."

"Unbelievable," Rydia scoffed. "You are truly unbelievable. Leave before I truly do you harm," she threatened, tapping her finger on her hip.

Edge seemed to know when he was beaten, and sighing, he shook his head. "I wasn't wrong, you know."

"Leave," Rydia said again, feeling her anger rise.

They stared at each other for another moment, and then Edge turned to leave her. Rydia waited until he was out of her sight before releasing the breath she'd been holding. How could he have said such things? How could he have knowingly caused this?

She stormed her way into the dormitory, relieved at finding the doorway unlocked, but annoyed at finding a gaggle of mages just inside it. They all stopped talking when she entered.

The look on her face must have been frightening to behold, because the mood of the room cooled several degrees as the other girls dispersed with sideways glances while she passed.

Rydia ignored everyone on her way to her room, hoping no one would question her wet and bedraggled appearance. Once she was inside, she threw the door shut, locking it for good measure. If Rosa wasn't back by morning, she would have more than a few words for the ninja. Until then, she needed to escape her damp garments and make an appointment with her mattress.

She accomplished the first with brusque efficiency, slipping a robe from the wardrobe over her head as she laid herself down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. What would they do if Rosa didn't return in the morning?

She stared at the ceiling for longer than she'd wanted to, but her argument with Edge, and Rosa's leaving, had left her mind wide awake. It was an hour at least before sleep claimed her, and she wasn't sure how long it had been before a strange clunking sound woke her up again.

She was laying on her side, facing the wall, but she opened her eyes, and waited for the sound to repeat itself. There was a rustle of cloth, and she flipped over, facing the other side of the room. She saw nothing, but she felt someone else in the room regardless.

"She's still gone," a familiar voice announced quietly.

Rydia sat up in bed, her eyes searching the dark while her heart raced. "Edge?" she called, and finally saw a flicker of movement on the other side of the room near the window. She frowned, squinting.

"How did you get in here?" she demanded, more than a little disturbed.

She noticed the white of one of his eyes glisten as he stared at her, leaning forward slowly. "Ninja," he answered simply from where he was sitting in a chair.

Rydia scowled.

"I'm waiting for the day your face gets stuck that way," he said, clicking the oil lamp in her room on to a low but steady gleam.

She threw her pillow at him, whipping it straight through the air. Disappointingly, he stopped it with one hand.

"No, really, what are you doing in my room dressed as a—" she frowned again, looking at his get-up. "Where did you even find that?"

"This?" He asked lightly, plucking at white robes. "Someone had hung it up to dry."

"And you stole it."

"Borrowed it."

"What time is it?" Rydia wanted to know, looking side to side in confusion.

"Halfway to dawn," Edge answered.

"And you're here about Rosa now?" she asked. "This couldn't wait until morning?"

He looked at the window with a frown. "I had this thought," he began. "That I owed you an apology for earlier. That, and if we were to go to the moon, we might need a white mage. Unless—I don't suppose you have any cure spells in your arsenal."

Rydia pursed her lips. "No."

"If the elder raises the ship, it would make sense to keep all of us together."

"And?"

"I'd rather not travel to the moon without a healer," he said.

"Where do you think she went?" Rydia asked with a yawn.

"Baron."

Rydia rubbed tired eyes. "How are we supposed to get there? I can't pilot an airship, can you?"

Edge grinned roguishly. "Who said anything about flying? There is a road that leads there."

Rydia frowned. "How can that be?"

"Serpent's road."

She groaned stubbornly and flopped back on her bed. "Is this another of your insane schemes?" she asked.

"This is another of my brilliant schemes," he corrected her. "Get up, get dressed."

She flung the covers back over her head. "You're the one who owes the apology, so why do I have to participate?"

He paused, and then whipped the covers off of her again. She curled up into a ball out of protest.

"You go if you're feeling so remorseful," she complained, squeezing her eyes shut.

"And here I was half hoping that you wouldn't be wearing anything," he said, sounding disappointed.

Her eyes flew open at that. "I will set fire to you if you don't step away from this bed," she hissed, sitting up again.

He grinned at her from underneath the hood of his "borrowed" white mage's robes, and then poked her shoulder. "You look very mage-like yourself," he replied.

She glanced down at what she had thrown on to replace her wet clothes and saw that they were the robes of a black mage. She sighed.

"You weren't going to get much sleep anyway," he informed her, pulling her out of bed.

She swatted his hands away. "A road," she repeated angrily.

"Yes. To Baron," he said again.

She strangled a groan and nodded reluctantly. "Fine," she replied, fumbling for her pack.

"Follow me," he said, opening the door to her room.

She sighed, dragging her feet as she followed him into the night.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

"Why is it just the two of us?" Rydia asked once they had left the campus of the tower behind them. "Why isn't Cecil with us?"

Edge took a few more steps before answering. "He didn't think Rosa going off on her own was anything to become overly concerned about."

Rydia crossed her arms, not fully believing that story. "Did you even tell him?"

Edge glared at her. "Of course I told him. But he was more than willing to wait until morning," he revealed. "The debt I had to repay was to you, not to him."

"Ah," she said, understanding the situation better.

The tower disappeared amidst the other buildings of the city, wall after wall casting stark shadows on the road. Edge led her down the city streets as if he knew precisely where he was going.

Rydia looked at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering why that was. "Edge," she said quietly once they had left the ward of the city where the wealthiest of Mysidia's citizens lived.

"Hm," he hummed back, glancing at her briefly, before returning his eyes to the next alleyway he was guiding her down.

"How do you know where you're going? We only just arrived," Rydia pointed out, stepping over a crate in her path.

"Couldn't sleep," he told her, tugging her arm when she nearly made the wrong turning.

"So you memorized the layout of the city?" she asked, shocked.

"Impressed?" he asked smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "Merely surprised," she replied. "Where are we, exactly?"

"A little off the beaten track," he explained, leading her away from a cluster of homes and down an avenue lined with trees and statuaries. The path became dark as they left the light from the city luminaries and climbed down a series of steps toward a solitary building nestled into the hillside. It shone brilliant white in the lingering moonlight, and Rydia realized this was their destination.

Edge motioned her to stop as he surveyed the area for a guard. When he was sure the building was defenseless, he gestured her forward. Edge pulled at the door, but discovered it locked.

Rydia sighed. "A locked door," she noted with exasperation. "As I thought—a bad idea from the start."

Edge looked utterly offended when he glanced at her from under his ridiculous white mage hood. "How quick you are to underestimate my skills," he muttered, fiddling for something under his robe.

Rydia waited, anxiously keeping watch. She half expected someone to jump out at them from the darkness. She tapped her finger on her hip impatiently, and then heard a pop and a click, followed by a stifled triumphant exclamation.

She glanced at the door in surprise, as Edge stood to push it open.

"A locked door," he scoffed, shaking his head at her. "And you thought this would present a problem."

She shoved his shoulder as he chuckled his way through the entry.

She wasn't sure what to expect when she saw the building's interior. She had imagined a tunnel or a passageway carved into the rock that burrowed through the ocean, but not a set of runes inscribed in the floor emitting an ethereal green light. It flickered as though it were ablaze, and when she studied it further, she could see images fluttering in the green haze, pictures from far away.

"Is that—" she started to say and then clamped down on her words when the image of a knight in armor shimmered across the green flame.

"Baron?" Edge finished for her. "It most certainly is."

Rydia walked gingerly around the portal, amazed by it. Wherever she stood in relation to the portal, she could view a different portion of the adjacent room in Baron. The knight hadn't seemed to realize she was there, and she flicked her gaze back to Edge. "Is it safe?"

He shrugged. "The mages I spied on seemed to think it was mostly safe. Though—" he trailed off, rubbing his chin.

"Though?" Rydia inquired anxiously, hoping he would go on.

"They mentioned something about being magically disincorporated and put back together again. Apparently it's...occasionally gone wrong."

Rydia slowly raised a brow. "Gone...wrong?"

He looked back at her placidly. "I'm willing to take a risk. Are you?"

"Are you sure Rosa traveled this way?"

"As sure as I am that you're as curious about this device as I am," he replied.

She pressed her lips together stubbornly. "You're sure of that, are you?"

He smiled, and her annoyance faded to sheer curiosity. She did want to know how this device worked. It seemed so similiar in design to the portals she had seen in the Feymarch and in the Tower, but it was different somehow.

All they had to do was step on it...

"Are you ready?" Edge asked after allowing her a moment to gather her nerves.

She crossed her arms, staring at the unnatural flames. "What happens if—"

Edge didn't let her finish the thought, taking hold of her arm and tugging her after him onto the portal.

"Edge!" she shrieked at the last moment, and heard her voice being fragmented, as if it were occupying many places at once. She was nothing but a floating consciousness, her body left in some forgotten place. Images flicked on and off in her mind's eye, vistas she had never seen and times she had never experienced. The relentless stream of magic propelled her onward, but she felt the tax on her mind—the demand magic often made of its host. When she felt she was at the end of her resources, she became aware that she was being deposited somewhere, and anxiously held an imaginary breath she wasn't physically capable of holding in her present form.

Her mind rushed into her body, and it took several minutes to become reacquainted with her senses again. She stood in a dark stone room, and she blinked, moving jerkily and bumping into Edge who stood beside her, similarly dazed.

"That—" he mumbled, fumbling over his own words. "Was quite an experience."

Rydia clutched her temples, feeling an overwhelming headache forming. "I can't believe you dragged me with you!" she angrily retorted, swatting him.

"You would have gone anyway—you were taking too long," he answered, doubling over to wince at a headache of his own.

"You!" a new voice accosted them.

They both looked up, having forgotten about the guard.

"We're with Sir Cecil!" Rydia quickly announced, holding up both hands.

Edge glanced at her in bafflement. "Are you programmed to say that?" he asked.

"Who are you!" the guard demanded.

Edge stood to his full height and threw back the hood of his white mage robe, trying to be impressive. "We've come in search of the Lady Rosa on Cecil's behalf."

The guard was puzzled, words forming on his lips that he couldn't spit out. "On his—"

"Behalf," Edge repeated, guiding the guard through the conversation. "Lover's spat."

The guard swallowed, and then looked at them anew. "Aren't you—" he queried, pointing at Rydia's hair.

She rolled her eyes. "The summoner, Rydia," she supplied.

The guard then looked at Edge. "The lady Rosa, you say? I did see her some time ago. She didn't look quite herself."

"She and Cecil had a disagreement about his involvement in the war," Rydia explained.

"By all means, go after her if you must. But I don't know where she's gotten to—it's been a few hours since my watch began."

"Thank you," Edge assured the guard, leading the way out of the room, and then looked back at the man before exiting. They shared the same expression and shrugged. "Women," they both intoned.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rydia demanded as she shoved him out of the building.

"Always so dramatic," Edge answered with a sigh and a wide smile.

"Says the man wearing a white mage's robes in order to sneak into the women's dormitory," Rydia pointed out vehemently.

He grinned at her, and then came to a full stop, looking around the city, perplexed.

"What's the matter?" Rydia asked, peering out at the streets and tall buildings around them, and wondering what the problem was.

"I've never been here before," he announced.

Rydia strangled a groan in her throat. "And here you are so sure of yourself, leading the way without a clue as to the direction."

He laughed. "You didn't have to follow," he reminded her.

"This way," she said, pointing down a road to their right.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Upon reflection, Rydia wasn't the best leader herself, and after several wrong turns and doubled-back routes, they arrived at the castle gates.

Edge suggested they use the postern gate, and much to Rydia's surprise, it was unlocked.

"The real reason Golbez took them over so easily," Edge mused with a significantly raised brow.

"There aren't many people here left to keep watch," Rydia reminded him as they walked across the bailey.

"Are there any guards left to keep watch?" Edge asked, brazenly turning circles while he walked, glimpsing the castle ramparts.

"Keep your voice down," Rydia hissed, striding into the castle's interior and through the main foyer and into the western wing.

Rydia led the way to the west tower, climbing the stairs through each landing until she arrived at the very top. She had expected to find Rosa there in Cecil's old quarters, but there was nothing but the blue light of early dawn seeping through the windows and a ticking clock on the wall.

"She's not here," she said with disappointment.

"Where else would she go?"

Rydia shook her head, trying to think of alternatives. "I have no idea," she admitted, walking to one of the windows. There was a splash of light on the courtyard below and Rydia had a thought. She returned to the stairwell and began skipping down steps, knowing that Edge was following.

They returned to the courtyard and Rydia followed the light she had seen. It led to a low roofed annex, burrowing into other portions of the keep, and its windows were nothing but arrow slits.

Rydia opened the door and descended three quick steps into a long room lined with double layered bunks and gear racks. A few soldiers were sleeping, one with his foot dangling off of the upper bunk, but a few were huddled over a table. There was a black mage and two soldiers, and they were shuffling cards on a table around a brightly glowing lamp.

Rydia's steps slowed, as she did not know these men, nor did she feel comfortable confronting them. Edge took the cue, and unapologetically stepped forward, causing the men to look up.

"The white mages have their own barracks," one of the soldiers said, chewing on a wooden splinter he was using as a toothpick.

Edge's brow crawled together as he frowned. "I'm not—"

"From around here," Rydia interrupted him, shooting him a warning glance.

The soldier set down his cards and squinted up at them both. "Where exactly are you from?"

Rydia could tell Edge wanted to boast his heritage, and glared at him, hoping he wouldn't.

"I'm—"

"From Mysidia," Rydia finished for him, too anxious to let him continue. She could feel the heat in his gaze, and ignored it.

The soldier nodded. "That explains why I didn't recognize you. What exactly are you doing here—in our barracks—in the middle of the night?"

"Looking for the Lady Rosa," Edge answered, recovering from his annoyance at Rydia's intrusions.

"The lady Rosa?" the man asked, raising his brows and exchanging looks with his companions. "What for?"

"She is in possession of knowledge that we need," Edge lied. "Have you seen her?"

The man sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Can't say that I have."

The black mage at the table frowned. "You know, I think I heard a rumor that she had snuck in late in the evening. She might be in the east wing where the vaults are. She usually goes there when she's looking for something."

"Thank you," Rydia said, pulling Edge away from the table where he had become engrossed with the game they had been playing.

"Now you're taking liberties," she accused.

"The man on my right was about to play an abysmal hand," he muttered while Rydia dragged him out the door.

"The east wing," she said to herself, trying to collect her bearings. The sun was beginning to rise, painting the sky pink and light blue. Rydia followed the direction of the sun, navigated the keep's inner halls, and emerged again in the east courtyard.

There was only one path for them, and that was the east tower.

They entered and found this tower much sparser than its twin on the castle's western side. There were ancient statues and alcoves with weapons inset above helmets and shields. Plaques adorned the walls between the alcoves, and there were two staircases. One leading up, and another leading down.

"This is a particularly creepy wing," Edge observed, walking the room's perimeter.

"What is this place," Rydia wondered, joining him in a perusal of the room's contents.

"Looks like a memorial," Edge said, reading one of the plaques. "These are dedications to past heroes."

"Why would Rosa come here?" Rydia asked, genuinely stumped.

"He said something about vaults," Edge reminded her. "Perhaps Baron stores their books of magic somewhere near here. You always run off to your books whenever your mind is troubled. Perhaps Rosa does the same."

"But where would they keep them?"

"Somewhere dry, cool, and away from sunlight."

"Underground?" Rydia asked, walking to the staircase leading down.

"Why not?" he asked, stepping around her. "Is it just me, or is there a light down there?"

Rydia looked and sure enough, there was a faint glow reflecting on some of the lower stairs.

They walked down together, and the sound of their own footsteps was loud to their ears. The air chilled as the steps descended into the belly of the castle, and even the scent of the air changed. There was a cool draft that swirled around their legs, but it was crisp, not stale.

When they reached the bottom, they arrived in a wide carpeted vault with suits of armor lining the walls. There were torches lit in sconces on the walls between them, and low shelves lined with scrolls and large leather bound books—a records room of sorts.

Someone had been there before them, but there was no sign of them. There was, however, another staircase on the opposite end of the room. They descended this also, and noticed that the walls here were more roughly cut, the stone more unrefined, and the air cooler still. At the bottom of the stairs was another room, but this was not a simple vault, it was a grand hall with granite pillars arranged in rows down either side. Torches had been lit in sconces here as well, illuminating an unusual tableau of marble tombs with the carved likenesses of their occupants. There were dozens of tombs, in columns and rows, spanning into the dark recesses of the room, and beyond.

Rydia's eyes peered ahead, and at last she saw the person they had come so far to find. Rosa was standing close to the edge of the light from her own torches, arms crossed. She was gazing at a statue that was larger than life and standing in the center of the wide aisle.

The torches created harsh shadows, but as Rydia walked closer, she realized the statue to be an eight legged horse with a fearsome rider wielding a spear.

They approached Rosa from behind, and when they drew closer, Rydia finally broached the silence.

"Rosa?" she asked, hoping not to startle her friend.

Rosa jumped regardless, twisting her head at the intrusion. "Rydia—Edge?" she asked, bewildered. "What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"We asked around," Edge supplied.

"How on earth did you get anywhere wearing those robes?" Rosa remarked, regarding him with disdain. "Honestly, you'd be a disgrace to the entire discipline."

Edge bowed dramatically. "At your service, lady mage."

This elicited a brief smile from Rosa before she rolled her eyes. "I thought I would just have a few moments of peace, and then the cavalry comes marching in."

"What is this place?" Rydia asked, pointing to the slabs and at the statue.

"The catacombs," Rosa explained, nodding at the tombs. "They span a great portion of the hill beneath the castle."

"This is where you come to clear your head?" Edge asked incredulously.

"Well, no, but one of the other mages had informed me of something peculiar and—"

"Rosa!" a voice called from behind them.

They all turned to look and saw Cecil striding toward them with a stern look on his face. Rydia was surprised he had been following them all this time or that he had found them so quickly.

"Rosa, what are you doing in here?" Cecil asked when he had finally joined them.

Rosa didn't answer at first, staring at him with the determination of one about to partake in a battle.

"Don't go," she said finally.

Cecil took a few steps closer, and Rosa, a step back. "Rosa, I have to," he said, trying to reason with her.

"Why, because some prophecy you received on a mountaintop told you to? Because the elder of Mysidia thinks you should?" she asked. "There must be another way. There must be a way for us to stop the tower of Babil, of finding a way to counteract the crystals, that doesn't involve going to the moon. Think of it, Cecil," she pled. "To leave the earth? No mortal has ever done so, it's nothing but a rumor. The great whale? A vessel built by a people that no one has seen in over a thousand years? They're gone."

"The elder thinks they may still live," Cecil interrupted her.

"Who was the voice that claimed to be your father?" Rosa insisted.

"Rosa—"

" Your father is here, in Baron," she shouted. "Here, among everything we have known. Odin raised you. This kingdom trusts you. What reason do you have to throw your life away by traveling to a place of legend? The twin moon?"

"I don't think we have much choice," he argued.

"I'm afraid for you," she persisted. "We have already done the impossible so many times over, that this should hardly surprise me, but we are being asked to travel to a place where no one has ever been. What if it's a trap, another of Golbez's machinations? What if what we ought to do is gather what allies we have left, march on Eblan, and take the tower by force? Between the remaining airships, our magic, and the Eidolons, surely, we must be able to do something."

"The source of your magic are the very crystals shielding the tower," Cecil replied.

"Yes, exactly. What if we drained enough of their power to weaken the shield?"

"I don't think it works that way, Rosa. Their power is enormous. A few mages will have no effect."

"You don't know that," she protested.

"And you do?" he asked.

"Cecil, what if there's no coming back from the moon?"

Cecil sighed, straightening his shoulders. "You and I both know, Rosa, that there's no coming back from any of this—no matter where that takes us. What is this really about?"

Rosa ducked her chin. "I came here to be sure of something," she revealed.

"To be sure of what?"

"That you would come looking," she answered. "And to be sure that something else was true. This man," she said, pointing to the statue behind her. "He was my father, just as he was yours. But whose voice was it on Mount Ordeals? Who was calling you, Cecil, and only you?

"I don't know who called me to the moon, Rosa," Cecil admitted. "But this is twice now that I've felt sure of my purpose. That there is something I must do."

"And then what?" Rosa asked. "Who are you becoming? If you stop Golbez, and we find the great whale, and everything we hope for comes true, who will take the throne of Baron? What about us?"

"Us?" Cecil asked.

"Do you want me with you, Cecil? Have I not proven myself to you?" she asked, lifting her eyes to his.

Rydia glanced at Cecil, and saw his perplexed expression. "Of course I want you with me," he told her. "But I also don't want to lose you."

"That's interesting," she retorted. "So I'm to stay behind while you pursue your destiny alone?"

Cecil frowned, not comprehending.

" You were the king's ward," Rosa continued. "You were his protégé. You were going to be knighted, become captain of the red wings, and you and I—but now... Now you are a person I hardly recognize. You are involved in a prophecy older than Mysidia. You've been called to the moon. I feel as though I don't know you at all."

"I want you to find out who I'm becoming at my side. Please, come back to Mysidia."

Rydia heard Edge clear his throat and could see him looking askance at her with disgust written all over his face. She imagined this was all the sentimentality he could stomach, and glared back at him.

"You want me there, yet you exclude me from the meetings," Rosa continued. "You haven't spoken to me since Kain deserted us. Did you think I knew?"

"Knew what?"

"Knew that Kain had feelings for me?"

"Rosa, this is hardly the time…"

"Did you think that my affections were divided between the two of you?" she insisted.

"Rosa—

"Because I have loved no one else since we were children but you. I have rejoiced at your triumphs, I have honed my healing craft for you, and I will be the person at your back protecting you from the reach of your enemies. You have to trust me. You have to speak to me."

"And you came seeking Odin?" he asked, baffled, looking at the statue behind her.

"I came seeking a king," she answered. "I came in search of what was left of a man I once knew, in the hopes that I might find him again—in you. I'm afraid that you'll forget where you came from when this ends. That this prophecy will wrench you away indefinitely. I need you here. Baron needs you, despite whatever inheritance you are coming into."

Cecil's gaze dropped to the floor between them. "It is possible that my parentage hails from a strange place, and that I am descended from a people out of legend. I don't fully know what is expected of me, but Rosa, of all the people who have shared in my life, you have meant the most to me. I do not blame you for Kain. He is a grown man responsible for his own actions. I need your steady presence and your company. I need you to straighten the path before me as you always seem to do. We should not be in a crypt when there is work to be done."

"And what about after the war, when all of this madness ends?" Rosa asked quietly.

"We shall see," Cecil answered with a heavy sigh.

We shall see, then, shan't we? said a rumbling voice behind them.

Rydia's gaze slid to the side, just over her shoulder at the statue of the horse and rider. She felt the air prickle with energy, a stirring of magic out of antiquity.

The pressure in the room built until she gritted her teeth, sensing an entity being drawn from the ether. A hair-raising whinny trumpeted from the mouth of the eight-legged horse as it came to life, shedding stone like caked mud after a roll in the fields. The four of them took jerky backwards steps, aghast at the statue's transformation.

An Eidolon? Rydia grappled with the thought. And here of all places?

The king sat astride his horse and adjusted his grip on the spear in his hand. Her mind reeled with questions, coupled with the very real fear that this test might be one she was not prepared to face.

"Long has this castle been rooted in the bones of our ancestors. There are secrets here hearkening back to the first kings," Odin's rich voice boomed from beneath his helmet. His eyes were like black coals with a blazing ember in their center; pinpricks of flame and magic that made a mockery of the humanity they must have once possessed. They were now a window into some fearsome and forgotten place where magic governed the soul and bound it to eternal existence. His face was pallid and wraithlike, but stern. "You have come in search of a king—when none was named in my absence. I have been imbued with the power to decide," he proclaimed. "This kingdom shall not be left leaderless, not by the powers of darkness nor by any schemes yet in motion. You were my student once—my son."

Rydia felt her blood run cold. When she had set out from Mysidia to retrieve her friend, she hadn't expected this. The four of them continued to take backwards steps, away from the horse's shod hooves, and out of the reach of theking atop his back.

"Odin," Rosa murmured, her expression mortified.

"Stand up and face me," the former king challenged. "And we shall see what mettle you truly possess."

0-0-0-0-0

A/N: Oh snap ;)

Sorry, all! This was the best place to split it. Until next time...

~Myth