Disclaimer: Anything you recognize – be it character, location, idea or line – belongs to others; I may be playing with them but I make no profit from this.
When Worlds Collide
Into the Forbidden Forest
It was early morning, so early in fact that the faint dawn was still wrapping the world in whitish haze. Seifer hated early mornings. If days had any decency, they'd start at noon!
He could understand Harry's decision to sneak out at the first lights, though. No way did he want to be trapped by those no-good willy-nilly politicians again. Even his ever-patient Summoner had been completely exasperated and that was saying something. Boy was too tolerant for his own good. Always so unfailingly polite. Bah.
Come to think of it, it might have been fun to see him lose his patience for once. Unleash an Aeon on that fat, lime-green-topped moron… ah, well. It wasn't Harry's style, unfortunately - so here they were, their steps echoing faintly in the cold stone corridors of this weird school.
Heading towards the Forbidden Forest, to continue their Quest at last. If all went well, they'd be on their way soon. Seifer definitely wouldn't be sorry to leave this over-the-top cheap-fantasy-movie location! Maybe get some relaxation time in... a beach would be just the thing...!
They walked briskly but unhurriedly through the evocative, drafty corridors.
The very stones of this unbelievable castle seemed to be aware of their passage and the air was brimming with excited energy. So much so that if he listened intently, he could hear the energy taking the form of a diffused humming: a powerful tune, sad and triumphant at the same time, that somehow managed to be unnerving and reassuring all in one.
He recognized it: it was the hummed music that somehow always seemed to underline Harry's 'Summoner-moments'. He wondered idly if it was a manifestation of the Aeons' magic or something. It didn't really matter much. Whatever it was, it had soon become a favourite of his. It was good to hear it.
He whistled along happily and blithely ignored Scarface's glare. That man was way too sober. No appreciation for the tastier bits of life!
Of course, he kind of had reason.
One way or another – Seifer wasn't very clear about how it had happened, and Scar probably wasn't either – it had fallen to him to be the calm, reasonable, supporting presence of their little group.
Well, there wasn't much choice, really.
Itachi was a genius but wouldn't make any decisions for himself, he would accept every proposal of Harry's as an order and obey without battling an eye; not leadership material there, despite his deadliness. As for Seifer... he was absolutely bloody awesome, of course, but he himself would recognize that he was a reckless hot-head. As long as he didn't have to admit it out loud, of course.
Someone needed to be the voice of reason and the tall guy was the only one left, whether they liked it or not. Whether Scar liked it or not.
No wonder the brooding bloke was so put out all the time.
It didn't matter. He might never say it out loud, because it would just be not cool, but Seifer actually appreciated the security that having someone sensible and trustworthy to turn to provided; he could put up with that someone being sombre. When it came right down to it, he'd take sullen and level-headed over bubbly and incompetent any day.
Still. He was going to get the man drunk some day or other – as soon as he figured out how!
His sharp, well-trained senses detected a group hiding not far and he tensed, suddenly all business. A moment later he relaxed again, his cocky smile returning. Silly fangirls. To think they'd got up before dawn just to intercept him!
He winked at them as they passed their hiding spot and the girls squealed and giggled. He caught some comments: 'sooo sexy...' – heh, that was him – 'ooh, those eyes...!' - he smirked - 'cool sword' – his eye twitched in sudden irritation, his weapon was a gunblade! Not that those heathen could understand the difference…
Still, it was funny as hell to watch them drool over him and stalk his steps. He had his own Treepies. Heh – imagine that!
He intercepted a disapproving glare from Itachi and just grinned, wide and sharp. Riling Stoic Kid up was one of life's refined pleasures! A cuff to the back of his head from Scar made him roll his eyes. Yeah, yeah. He knew they were on duty! No need to be sourpusses about it.
The moment they stepped into the cool humidity outside, they assumed the formation they had used upon their arrival, with the three of them surrounding Harry. Somehow, it always gave Seifer a feeling of satisfaction and accomplishment.
Despite the early hour, a surprisingly high number of students had come to watch the Summoner starting his Quest, probably hoping for some awe-inspiring show. They were going to be disappointed, though, because Harry was sure they had to go far into the Forbidden Forest and the students weren't going to be able to see a thing.
As the name pointed out, the Forest was forbidden: strictly off limits to students. He would smirk about it if he wasn't too busy sneering at the memory of the protests the little piece of news about their intentions had garnered from their hosts.
"The Forbidden Forest!" they'd all babbled and snivelled. "Nonsense – it is far too dangerous! You can't possibly think of risking...!"
Bloody whiners. Who the hell did they think they were? Those... useless lazybones! Too dangerous. Hah! As if Guardians like them weren't perfectly able to protect their Summoner from anything!
In fact, Harry could probably defend himself well enough – not that he would ever need to. They weren't going to let anything happen to him. But still. He was far from helpless himself.
Too dangerous indeed!
Scar had held him back from giving the lot of them a piece of his mind – he always did, the spoilsport – but at least Harry had been adamant.
"We are here to walk through the Cloister of Trials and that is precisely what we shall do," he'd said firmly.
"And this Cloister just so happens to be in the Forbidden Forest?" had sneered the unpleasant greasy guy that had rubbed Seifer wrong from the very start. Professor... Snake, or something equally ridiculous.
Seifer had been quite proud when Harry had levelled the unpleasant man with a glare and simply retorted with a deadpan: "Yes."
Heh, the little Summoner had spunk.
Of course, Colour-blind Grandpa couldn't let it go: "I'm afraid you must be mistaken. I would never presume to know all the secrets of Hogwarts, of course, but I have never heard of a Cloister of Trials being hidden here!"
So he didn't know his school as well as he thought. Big deal. He was a Headmaster after all. They weren't expected to know much about their own schools. Seifer would bet Cid didn't have a clue about half the secrets of Garden either – and he'd founded the thing!
Harry, as usual, had chosen politeness – why, Seifer couldn't fathom – and spoken gently: "Nevertheless, my Rod guided me here, and I do not care to disregard its hints. Should we find no Glyphs on your grounds, Headmaster, I promise we will leave…"
"Not at all, not at all!" had been the hurried reassurance. "You and your Guardians are most welcome here! It is an unprecedented honour to host you. Please, feel free to remain as long as you wish!"
Nice to know they were valued, had thought Seifer sarcastically, even as Harry offered a polite: "You are most generous, Headmaster."
And with that they'd left, loftily ignoring the overexcited whispers following in their wake – but of course, the hushed, enthusiastic mutterings were back first thing this morning, trailing them in a rather annoying manner.
Seifer slashed the faint dawn mist with his beloved gunblade, once, twice, just to let out the irritation that had built in him as they moved through the stone corridors and then the beautiful grounds.
At least the Forest was close...
As he'd hoped, as soon as they left behind the gaggle of early-risers, whom a few teachers were at last corralling back to the school despite the loud protests, and made it a few meters inside the majestic woods, he felt the thoughts and worries fade, being replaced by the calm and confidence the other Guardians were already filled with.
This – accompanying the Lord Summoner – was his place and every time he was reminded of it he was relieved anew that he had found it.
He'd always known he was special, destined to great things.
It had been his dream to become a Sorceress Knight, ever since childhood, precisely because he felt it was his call to devote his life to protect someone extraordinary from the dangers they would face. It had seemed like the perfect sort of life and he'd been sure that he was the perfect sort of bloke to live it.
Which he was, by the way.
To be a Sorceress' Knight... what a dream it had been!
He had believed, for a while, to have fulfilled it: when he was serving the Sorceress Edea. Yet the seriousness and devotion he had offered to Matron – not that she remembered who she was – had never been valued: he'd given her his everything, only to be cast aside.
She had been too taken with the strange young man with the cold eyes and cruel smirk, infatuated with his dangerous charm and utterly blind to how he was callously manipulating her and her ill-fated attraction. And the stranger had been all too aware of the threat Seifer posed to his influence... a true Knight, one whose bond was respected and valued by his Sorceress, would have been able to protect her even from his seductive games...
For a while, Seifer had judged him a rival; but the malevolent man had soon dispelled any such notions. He wasn't interested in the honour of serving the Sorceress: he expected to be served instead; and if Seifer had been a pitiful, controllable fool, the bastard would have likely endorsed his presence – as one of many strings to move the Sorceress as he pleased.
Seifer still wanted to scream when he thought of it – the mockery that dark-haired bastard had made of the sacred bond between Sorceress and Knight, and more, the careless way Matron, if she was still Matron at all, had accepted to throw Seifer away and replace him with a worthless, spineless puppet chosen by that man.
For a while, as the cruel manipulator's influence grew over the Sorceress and he was relegated further and further away from what should have been his rightful place, he'd tried to find something else in his life that would give meaning to his wasted efforts – fancying himself a fearsome strategist, deluding himself with tall tales of being a revolutionary; but his ragged appearance was a testimony to how little he'd believed it himself, and to how much it had torn him apart to act against his own conscience, to attack Garden of all places, to agree to bomb the only home he'd had in years. Every decision he hadn't been strong enough not to make under the command of the Sorceress, his craving for acceptance overwhelming enough to offset her weakening interest, had broken him a little more.
By the time he'd been relegated to the Lunatic Pandora, he'd been desperate for something, anything, that could return a measure of meaning to his life.
Yet the Sorceress had no longer held answers to his desperate thirst for meaning and belonging. If she ever had in the first place.
After all, the more Seifer thought of it, the less he was sure that the despicable stranger's manipulations had truly been the turning point. He suspected that it would have ended like this any way.
He had put so much faith in the Sorceress... expected her to be someone truly out of the ordinary, greater, better... expected her to see his true worth, and hold him dear, and take care of him as he looked after her...
She had, ultimately, disappointed him.
And left him desperate and broken, abandoned even by his friends – and oh, how it had hurt to see Fujin and Raijin hiding behind his enemies!
He'd been left to watch his rival's back as Squall walked away to his glorious future, with his bright Princess and the bunch of ragtags who hung around with him.
He'd been left behind, discarded, forgotten... just a memory, to be talked of in the past tense... it galled him that they'd probably end up talking fondly of him, the damn do-gooders, saying whatever corny nonsense they wanted – he'd heard it all before, wasn't really a bad guy; was one of us – that kind of things had always irritated him to no end.
He didn't want to be a memory; but if he had to be, he'd rather be a fiery one of blazing glory, forever etched into everybody's mind as awe-inspiring and direful, not a mellowed, dying ember, growing fuzzy with time and banalities.
He'd tried, too, on his last chance to leave a mark on his world - the last bright spark of his own flame – he'd tried to achieve just that.
He'd been sent to the Lunatic Pandora, been ordered to raise the damn Pillar from the sea – an effort during which the incompetence of the soldiers he'd been saddled with had sorely tried his patience – and bring the huge, tasteless structure to Tear's Point to provoke a Lunar Cry. Squally Boy and his little clique, of course, had tried to stop him. It had almost felt good, to stand straight and proud in the face of their glowers once more – as if he was still himself... for a while at least...
He'd been a tough opponent. That much – or that little, as it were – he could still take pride in. His physical attacks had pushed those ragtags to their limits – the pink-clad Mediocre Instructor had been at death's door and the Chicken Wuss could barely stand when he was through with them – and that despite the fact that they were ganging up on him. Couldn't manage the guts to face him one on one.
He was the best!
Not even that supposedly unbeatable, legendary Guardian Force Odin they'd somehow got their hands on had been a match for him: the Zantetsuken Reverse he'd spent hours upon hours perfecting had sliced it in half.
He was the best.
It hadn't mattered.
His friends had turned their backs on him, the Sorceress he'd sworn himself to had thrown him away like trash... even his rival had barely spared him a glance... he'd got some pity from the gals... pity!... nothing more.
He deserved better than that! Didn't he?
Didn't he?
All he'd ever wanted was to be a Sorceress' Knight… it was his romantic dream… what was wrong with it? How could it have turned out so badly?
He wanted to be accepted… needed… he wanted glory, respect, but also love… he'd thought Edea could give him that… but it had turned out all wrong…
That was when Harry had found him, at his lowest.
And unexpectedly, unbelievably, had offered him a chance at the real deal – not the empty promises of the Sorceress, but the true bond of a Protector to a Lord.
Sometimes Seifer wondered why he had.
What could possibly have pushed the little Summoner to choose him? A Guardian was someone a Summoner could rely on completely. Someone they could trust with their life. Sometimes he wondered, how could Harry feel like that about him?
They were only a couple dozen meters into the ancient forest when Itachi's soft voice halted them.
The lean teenager's eyes were taking in the trees, not in the least wary, but nevertheless with an alertness that Seifer wasn't feeling the need for. It immediately put him on guard. It was clear by the unusual relaxation in his attitude that Stoic Kid was at home in a forest, much more than his fellow Guardians. He must have noticed something Seifer missed.
He nodded in acceptance when Itachi slid quietly forward, taking point, and with no need for words traded places with Scar, covering the rearguard, while the white-haired man stood by the Summoner.
At least Scarface seemed back to normal today, not out of sorts like the day before.
Seifer had barely managed to enjoy the admiring looks of his fangirls, because he couldn't afford even an instant of distraction, not if his fellow Guardian wasn't one hundred percent functional. He would have liked a chance to show off for once, thank you very much!
He looked good and he knew it; once upon a time, he would have made it a point to pose so that the sun shone off his gunblade and he appeared to his advantage to the giggling girls, and smirk at the gossiping students, basking in how they were all awe-struck at the sight of him, be it in fear or in lovesick-puppy-style.
Heh, he was awesome!
But no – Scarface had been spooked and unbalanced, so he'd had to sacrifice the cool look and forgo the chance of preening in favour of being able to keep an eye on things.
Of course, he'd found himself doing things like this like it was natural ever since he'd started travelling with Harry, somewhat to his surprise. After all, the little Summoner was... important.
Still, it was good to see Scarface wasn't as distracted today.
He wondered what had been wrong with him the day before. Scared of the ghosts, maybe? He'd certainly looked unnerved by the things. Heh, the loser. Seifer wasn't bothered by the spirits of course – he might find them unsettling, but that was because they were, duh.
Itachi paused for a long moment, breathing in the silent atmosphere thrumming with power.
Then he took one step forward and to Seifer's shock, the forest moved.
Trees and bushes blurred and stirred, morphing in front of their very eyes: slowly but seamlessly two diverging paths took form, a winding trail towards the left and a straighter one towards the right.
Heh. Cool effect.
A bit unnerving – never had he heard that a forest could do this kind of thing – but cool.
Good thing Scarface and Stoic Kid didn't seem bothered at all, though. These moving trees were worse than ghosts by far, in his opinion; for a moment he'd feared Scar might be upset again. Thankfully, his fellow Guardians both seemed alright.
In fact, Itachi almost looked at ease. Serene. Tranquil.
Weird.
Harry considered the paths for a long moment, then pointed his Rod toward the left and they moved that way, Itachi scouting the way, maintaining them on track through the twisting and wiggling, writhing and morphing of the vegetation.
Stoic Kid seemed to be born in a forest, he moved with such simpleness and could instantly interpret every sign of their surroundings as if it was his mother language.
Seifer was left to follow the group, mind hastily reviewing what he'd learned back at Garden about forest-dwelling monsters. Chances were these world had different ones, but you never knew: the similar environment might well have pushed their evolution along similar paths.
Besides it distracted him by the fact that he was trailing behind. He really didn't like taking up the rear. Oh, he did it without complaints when it was his turn – he was a professional, he didn't care what the damn SEEDs examiners had thought, bunch of losers that they were – but it sort of made him uneasy.
After all, he'd been left behind before.
And really, why was Harry even bothering with him? When it came right down to it?
He might throw his bravado around like he had an endless supply of self-confidence to draw upon, but deep down the doubts stayed. He was a failure... a reject... what if his Summoner suddenly wised up and discarded him, like the others before him?
Harry turned a little to look at him over his shoulder while they walked and smiled. He flashed his trademark grin back, knowing Harry loved it. His Summoner had told him so himself, one night when Seifer was having uncharacteristically manifest self-doubts.
Well, who wouldn't? Really?
Harry was special – he had the power, strength of will and determination to change the world to suit his vision and the morals and enthusiasm to want it changed for the better of all. People of his kind rarely graced a world.
And Seifer… well. When he came right down to it, he wasn't exactly a good person. Or a very reliable one.
He'd done awful things. He was very careful to keep those from Harry; he wasn't sure how his Summoner would react. Maybe he sort of already knew. Maybe he wouldn't mind. But... maybe he would. Stoic Kid knew… the expressionless teen might well have done stuff just as awful; he would get this look at times… they didn't need to talk about any of it. They just knew, saw the understanding in each other's eyes. And Scarhead… yeah… Seifer'd ended up telling him most of everything. In disjointed random bouts that sort of sneaked up on him. He always felt better afterwards; mortified but lighter. Besides the man never judged him. Not for his acts of cruelty, not for his moments of stupidity, not for any weakness he might confess. He just listened.
It helped.
That didn't change the fact that Seifer wasn't sure that he deserved to be one of Harry's Chosen, no matter how many times the green-eyed Summoner reassured him.
He wanted to be – no doubts on this. It was his chance of redemption. Of doing things right this time! But... Why should he get such a chance at all? Why would the little Summoner even want him around?
Harry's answer that one time he'd blurted out the question that was plaguing him had been sweetly candid: "I like you, Seifer. You're a great friend… you're smart, you're bold and always so full of confidence. Nothing ever gets you down. It's like nothing is impossible to you. Just by talking to you, I feel like I could take on the world!"
That totally bolstered Seifer's spirits. Being bold and brash and a source of inspiration? Oh yeah, he could do that. Just like with his posse, back at Garden, right? He totally could – and if that was enough for his Summoner, then all was well. So long as it lasted.
Sometimes Seifer wondered why in Hyne's name Harry had picked him of all people. Sometimes he wondered how long he would have before he'd be told that there had been a mistake, that he wasn't supposed to be a Guardian after all.
Then Harry would grin at him and he'd remember that he was, indeed, wanted. And worthy of it.
It was this unspoken-of complicity that made his relationship with Harry so important, so special. Although they'd been off to a bit of a rocky start...
He remembered well how he'd felt lying there in the Lunatic Pandora, broken and desolate at last, his body bruised, his spirit crushed. Nothing left to cling to.
The Sorceress he'd offered himself to long gone, not one thought spared for him, who was supposed to be her Knight, who had once been her child: only cruel indifference.
His friends, his supporters, his posse, who he'd once thought would always be by his side, gone too, picking the sullen Ice Princeling over him, and hadn't that hurt! That after years of being together, of sharing everything, they would pick his rival, his enemy even! Just like Rinoa. Or his pseudo-sisters from back at the Orphanage – all of them ignoring him or only giving him pitying, disappointed looks!
That galled even now, in memories.
He wasn't a disappointment. Whatever else, he wasn't that!
He had made his decision with his eyes wide open and he had given his best to everything he'd chosen to do. Everything he'd chosen to be. He had followed his dream and put all his effort in achieving it. That the dream had been crushed didn't mean a thing.
He had no regrets, save to have misjudged who was worthy of his trust.
Yet no-one had understood him in the least.
They had all left... gone... and in the end, that thrice-damned example of improbability wrapped in a red turban-cloak had destroyed even the last thing he had left, his pride as a warrior, treating him like he was nothing more than a useless rag doll, to be thrown in the trash. That awful absurdity with too many arms had shown up from a bloody rift in space/time, blathered some ridiculous nonsense about 'the Fourth' and defeated him. Defeated! Him!
He could only thank his lucky star that Harry had been passing by right at that time. On his own, he might not have managed to get himself up again.
He wasn't sure when the boy and his companions had arrived. He'd been drifting in and out of consciousness, his wounds taking their toll and his beaten spirit uncharacteristically wallowing in self-pity.
A whitish haze had enveloped him, that much he remembered, and he'd felt the same pleasantly tingling sensation of when a Cure swept through his body, though the magic had felt livelier and fresher than the standard spells.
He'd recovered his full senses to see a green-eyed teen, with a cerulean outfit full of little ornaments, orange goggles pushed up in his dark hair and a tall metallic Ron in his hands, kneeling by his side; behind him, an unlikely pair: a tall man with white hair, oval sunglasses and a huge scar across his forehead and a younger bloke with onyx eyes framed by black bangs and the kind of emotionally stunted expression Seifer had come to expect from Icy Squally.
He'd stared at them as he heaved himself to a sitting position; and then he'd been absolutely flabbergasted by the kneeling teen holding up a copy of Occult Fan and asking brightly: "Would you happen to know where the Grandidi Forest is? It says here it should be in these parts, or at least on this continent, we think..."
"You don't actually believe that rubbish, do you? There's no way anything printed in that lunatic rag is true," had blurted out Seifer, regardless of the absurdity of the meeting (to this day, he didn't know how they'd entered the Lunatic Pandora at all, never mind why).
"Huh..." the teen had blinked, then beamed a little forcedly: "Anyway! We're looking for this... Guardian Force, is it called?... so if you have any indications, we would be most grateful! By the way, my name's Harry," he'd added almost as an afterthought.
"Seifer," he had replied on autopilot, vaguely weirded out by the whole situation.
The odd boy had beamed brightly: "Nice to meet you, Seifer! So, do you know where we can find this?"
Some part of him had wondered if the oddness of it all and his own somewhat dazed reaction meant this wasn't happening after all – maybe he was delirious or something – but before he could ponder on it, a whole lot of mechanical noise had exploded all around them as one of Galbadia's living weapon had jumped on them and started shooting randomly.
It was a dark green monster with lethal claws and yellow fangs, standing on its hind legs to support a 155mm autocannon on both shoulders.
The two silent ones had instantly moved to cover the still kneeling kid, acting with the smoothness of trained bodyguards – a corner of Seifer's mind had recognized the positions that had been drilled into him at Garden and distantly appreciated their professionalism. At the same time, he had reflexively identified the foe and recalled what he knew about it, his heavy disbelief at the whole thing making him feel rather detached, and had commented blandly: "A SAM08G. It will have to resort to a charge move before being able to blast us. Thunder attacks will work well."
Hearing his information, the kid with the blank expression had promptly moved his hands in a flowing, lightning-fast sequence of positions that vaguely reminded Seifer of the copper-haired Messenger Girl's magic attacks. Though she used her nunchaku, of course.
He had registered the details without much thought, still feeling detached and rather unconcerned, the strangeness of the situation making everything seem a little more distant than normal; then he'd felt the charge building for the attack and before he could figure out what he was about to do, he'd already sprung to his feet and let lose a Thundara that mingled with the dark-haired kid's unusual spell, plunging into the cannon-wielding monster with a devastating shock.
Seifer had barely had the time to blink at his own actions – he figured he'd been simply too used to fighting to not take part in a combat situation, any combat situation: it was the only explanation – before the improbability level of the whole situation had been bumped up to ridiculous levels by the sudden reappearance of the red-clad multiarmed menace.
Four swords had fallen from the sky, startling them, and embedded themselves in the ground all around them, quivering with the force of the strikes. Then the blighter had been there, rising from a crouch on the ground and attempting to look inscrutable.
Seen up close, he had a grey complexion that made him seem like he had been dead for a long time before being brought back to life. No wonder he covered the majority of his face with that tattered red scarf. And used make-up for the rest: red paint ran in stripes under his eyes, like tears of blood against his grey skin. Not that it did much to help his looks, in Seifer's opinion.
Then the weird guy had grabbed the closest sword and slashed so violently with it, that Seifer had had the impression that the whole world had been sliced in half by a white-blue cut. It had lasted a long instant, then disappeared, leaving the monster in neatly cut halves.
Suddenly and surprisingly, the figure had leapt up once more, spinning gracefully and then landing next to them, allowing Seifer to get a proper look at the towering build and at the sets of demonic looking horns sticking out from his head. He had drawn himself to his full height, obviously gearing up to some outlandish proclamation or other, but Seifer had never been one to appreciate dramatics. Unless, that is, he was the one indulging in them.
So he'd promptly diverted everybody's attention by yelling at the monstrosity in red: "YOU again! What the hell are you doing here!"
A furious hiss had escaped the sword-wielder: "What? You! My introduction! I can't believe you ruined it! You'll pay for that!"
Seifer's reaction had been, predictably, to slash air with his gunblade – always a comfort – and scoff: "Just who do you think you are, anyway?"
"Who am I?" The red swordsman had questioned quietly, then his head had shot up. "WHO AM I? Fool! I am the mightiest of mighty swordsmen! Mine is the vigour of a great tempest! My strength once decimated an entire army! My enemies fear my name, and the Gods tremble at my power!"
"Bah," had muttered Seifer, irritated. Listening to someone he didn't like going on blathering about their own greatness was boring.
"Hear my name now for I am GILGAMESH!"
Seifer had snorted, none too discreetly.
"Fool!" had reiterated the supposedly mighty warrior, hissing, then he'd returned to his position in front of the green-eyed kid who was still clutching the rolled up magazine and watching everything with a slightly perplexed, hesitant smile.
"I am Gilgamesh," he had repeated, making his voice a lot more mysterious than when he'd yelled at Seifer, "I am the Wandering Hero of the Void! I had planned to keep an eye on the Walker of Times and his companions, but this! This is much more interesting!" he had proclaimed in a bellowing voice, holding out his hands as if to encompass the three strangers.
"Walker of Times?" had asked the kid, looking confused, but apparently Gilgamesh had been too taken up in his own rant to pay attention: "So very interesting!"
Seifer had quickly lost whatever shade of patience he might have had. He'd never liked being ignored – so sue him! "WHAT is interesting, you overgrown improbability?" he'd demanded nastily.
The red-clad warrior had promptly abandoned his inspired pose in favour of scowling at him. Again. "You nuisance! Do you not see? This is a TRUE Summoner!"
That had been less helpful than one of Quistis' lectures, which was saying everything, really.
"A what?" had muttered Seifer, glancing uncertainly at the odd kid and his silent bodyguards. They hadn't looked surprised at the declaration. It had done very little to quench the edginess Seifer could feel rising inside.
"I have travelled through more dimensions than I care to remember and I've seen a lot of astounding sights, but this! This is so interesting!" Gilgamesh had blathered on.
The so-proclaimed Summoner in question had frown interestedly at this and taken a few steps toward the red-clad annoyance, his two bodyguards hovering protectively close to him.
"Excuse me, but... did you say that you travel through dimensions?" he'd asked politely.
"Of course! I use the portals in the Rift to seek out and collect my rare and powerful swords!" He'd immediately started showing off – much to Seifer's grumbled disgust – a veritable arsenal of rare and powerful blades.
Some time after the third, the part of Seifer's brain that was shouting about the illogicality and insanity of it all had abruptly shut up and he'd defaulted to what he always did when he felt profoundly uneasy - namely, ignore anything that was disturbing him and proceed to bluff himself into the centre of attention.
"So what, exactly, is a Summoner?" he'd asked pleasantly enough, taking out his own, magnificent blade in an apparently careless way and swinging it casually under everybody's eyes, to make sure it attracted the proper amount of attention. Which it did, of course. His Hyperion was as awesome as its master: after all, it was a custom model of his own design.
Nobody had commented on it however. Gilgamesh had just scoffed disgustedly at him, while the odd kid had, somewhat succinctly, explained: "Summoners, well... we are practitioners of a peculiar kind of magic... trained in summoning powerful beings known as Aeons, calling them to our aid. We have other duties, but... that's the gist of it."
Ah, so that was why he was looking for the Grandidi Forest. He was after the GF rumoured to dwell there. Well, Seifer could understand that.
"So you're a Summoner, then?" he had asked, just to be clear, and he'd gotten a firm nod in response. He'd shrugged: "Oo-kay." No skin off his nose, really. "That why you want the GF, I suppose?" he had tossed out, truthfully more concerned with nonchalantly pushing his gunblade under the red menace's grumpy nose than with whatever the kid would say.
"What? You want to drag the Guardian Force into service?" had grumbled Gilgamesh, still ignoring his gunblade, the tosser. "Not going to work. Hah! Your power has led you to arrogance!..."
"You're one to talk," had snorted Seifer.
The kid had frowned, displeased: "It's not like that..."
Seifer had raised an eyebrow at him: "Wait, you don't want the GF? Riiight... Why are you looking for it, then?"
The Summoner had sighed exasperatedly: "Look, I'm not even sure of what a GF is, ok? Only... if what I've found out is right, they seem to have a lot in common with Aeons and so I was wondering if maybe my next Trial might be in connection with one of them..."
Now, Seifer had not understood much of this, especially the part about trials, but since that irritating Gilgamesh had now been scoffing dismissively at the Summoner, he'd instantly decided to take the kid's parts. Only logical, really. Enemy of my enemy – wasn't there a saying about this?
So he'd generously launched into the standard definition Garden had drummed into his head, purely to be helpful: "Well, a GF is an independent energy force, which has no solid form and can only manifest for limited periods of time," he'd informed the strange kid. "By combining it with para-magic, it is possible to control tremendous energy. That's called junctioning and when a GF is junctioned to a human, they give superhuman strength and enhance the users' body functions."
Hah, and to think the idiotic examiners had barely passed him. He'd been about to point out the memory loss risk business, but he'd been rudely interrupted.
"WHAT?" had come a bellow from the red-clad warrior.
Seifer had eye-balled him: "I said that..."
"Ignorant boy!" had thundered Gilgamesh.
Seifer's brow had twitched in irritation. "I am not a BOY!"
Of course, the damn improbability had completely ignored him: "Do you know nothing? Guardian Forces are what cast-off Aeons are reduced to! And Aeons are Guardian Forces who haven't been discarded by their lieges!"
Everybody – Seifer was very pleased to remember he hadn't been the only one – had goggled at the towering warrior.
"What... what do you mean, exactly?" had asked the Summoner kid.
Gilgamesh had looked at them with a put-upon sigh: "A Summoner's Guardian – or a Sorceress' Knight, or a Patriarch's Protector – can be turned into an Aeon. Don't ask me how. I have no idea. But that's what happens."
"Guardian?" had blurted out Seifer, truthfully shocked at the idea that something else like a Sorceress' Knight could exist.
"That would be us," had briefly commented the tall, scarred guy, barely sparing Seifer a glance.
Gilgamesh had just blathered on obliviously: "They acquire the powers of an Aeon and retain their duty, the impulse to protect their bonded human. Eventually the Summoner dies, but Aeons are eternal unless they are killed… Same for a Sorceress Knight, if she dies before him, why, just think about Griever…"
"But how is this possible?" had asked the kid, looking at once avid for information and dismayed by it.
"I just said I DON'T KNOW!" had raged the annoying warrior. "They have a bond with their liege in life, don't they? You should know better than me! But I've seen it happen! They loose something of themselves and are lost, wandering, and if their bonded didn't ensure they would have a task beyond his or her death, why, that's how they become Guardian Forces!… They're... they're Unsent! Unsent that acquire fiendish looks but are still driven by their need to protect…"
He'd crossed his arms petulantly: "Everybody knows that!"
"Well, I didn't," had replied the kid with a thoughtful look.
Gilgamesh had leaned down to give him a long look into the eyes: "Clearly, you haven't found the answers you need yet, young Summoner." He'd stood up. "You won't find them in the Grandidi Forest either," he'd declared smugly.
The kid had blinked, then asked – far too politely in Seifer's opinion: "Then... can you tell me where to find what I'm looking for?"
"No," had been the blunt answer.
Faced with the taken aback expression of the Summoner, Gilgamesh had quickly added, sounding apologetic: "A Summoner is shaped by his Pilgrimage. You must follow the tug of your magic, young Lord, it will lead you to where you need to go. If I were to simply disclose the answers to you, you would be diminished by my interference…"
The kid had nodded understandingly. Seifer, for his part, had not bothered to hide his snort. That irritating, self-righteous... urgh.
The annoying entity had wrapped his red cape around himself with an over-dramatic flourish and boomed some nonsense about needing to leave 'post haste'. And he'd vanished on the spot.
They'd all been rather stunned after his abrupt departure. Seifer's head had been fuzzy and he'd vaguely reflected about the blessedness of silence.
The taller bodyguard had been the first to recover: "So, what now?"
The Summoner had blinked, mind clearly still on the red-clad absurdity, then shrugged: "Oh, I suppose we'll just continue our journey."
Then he'd turned to Seifer, all perky: "So, are you coming with us?"
"'Course I am," he'd answered impulsively.
And that had been that.
To this very day, Seifer couldn't tell what on earth had pushed him to accept that obviously unpremeditated offer…
Mind you, he was glad he had.
Even as they were still walking out of the Lunatic Pandora, the kid with no expression in the lead and the scarred guy as rearguard, he'd mulled over the idea and liked it. A Summoner was like a Sorceress, right? That was what he'd gathered from the odd conversation, at least. So... his romantic dream was not beyond reach after all! He'd be a Guardian instead of a Knight… it wasn't that different.
Except that it was, because Harry wasn't using him, wasn't manipulating him like Edea had, Harry was worthy of being knighted for!
But that, he'd only learned later.
At the time, all he'd known was that a vague sort of rightness justified his decision. Besides, no-one had argued. There had been just... acceptance. In hindsight, it was truly mind-boggling.
The very first half-hour had set the tone for the easiness among them. Because of course, even after they'd sort of dealt with the crazy sword-obsessed annoyance and somehow sorted out the most basic details of Seifer's addition to the odd party, things had been rather awkward at first.
Seifer hated awkward.
Good thing the kid had managed to break the ice quite soon.
"So… uhm… cool sword," Harry had said a little tentatively.
Seifer, already on edge in the unsettling set of events, had exploded: "Sword!... why, you!... How dare you! This baby is a GUNBLADE!"
"A… what?"
Seifer had closed his eyes, praying for patience. Really, he'd reminded himself. The kid believed the Occult Fan stuff. Something had obviously gone wrong in his upraising. Couldn't be blamed for ignorance. He should be gracious and explain instead.
So he'd done just that, showing off his amazing Hyperion – the gun action built into the hilt, the barrel running inside the length of the blade, the carefully shaped sword blade, even demonstrating the shock wave that triggering a round sent through the blade to increase damage.
All his annoyance had vanished when he'd seen the spark of awe in the Summoner's eyes. Oh, yeah… the kid did understand. He wasn't a bad sort, really. He just needed a few things explained. Luckily, Seifer was there to take him in hand… it was his inner generosity pushing him, no doubt…
And luckily, every interaction with Harry after that had been just as easy. And just as rewarding.
The other two had been tougher nuts to crack, but little by little he'd managed to get to know his fellow Guardians too. He'd soon found his unexpected companions growing on him like he'd never believed anyone could.
Really, it was practically uncanny how easily they all fit together. How they barely even had a need to say anything at all – well, Seifer talked a lot, of course, but that's because he liked the sound of his own voice, and it wasn't like there was anything wrong with it, no matter how other people made it sound; but he seldom needed his companions to verbalize their contributions to the conversation. And silences among them were never awkward or stilted: they were just natural. Their combat styles might as well have been devised for their cooperation, so well they meshed together; their general tastes, no matter the inevitable differences, ran on parallel and often close tracks; and on the serious stuff – like, say, protecting Harry – they were remarkably like-minded.
Yes, Seifer had very quickly come to admit that he was happy with the other three.
Besides, it had been pretty clear that they needed him. Badly. Especially the little Summoner. Almost fifteen and he barely had a clue what fun was! The solemn gloominess of the other two had clearly ruined him.
Honestly! Too serious by half.
Stoic Kid was a workaholic that probably had completely missed the lesson on what fun even was. A clear example? When Harry'd innocently admitted that he didn't know how to swim and Seifer, of course, had offered to teach the kid – because swimming was great fun! – what had been Stoic Kid's comment? "It would possibly be beneficial for him to be able to survive in the chance that he falls into water."
Hyne, can you say 'overachiever'? It was something Icy Princeling Squally might have said…
As for Scarface, he did nothing but mope about, all serious and obsessed. Well, they all had their problems, didn't they, wasn't a good reason to go around as if they were mourning!
Seifer had guessed pretty soon that it was up to him to make sure Harry had some fun. So, he'd taken up the task of lightening the kid's life up. He rather liked it too. His memories of the Orphanage were still rather vague, but he kind of remembered that most children there had been older than him. Or total wimps. Now he got to be the cool older brother to a little brother who was fun and caring and smart. It felt good!
They'd started travelling around his world looking for... something (he hadn't been clear on the matter back then). Good thing he had had excellent marks in Geography. And that they all, perhaps surprisingly, loved sailing.
He'd sort of kept an eye on Squally's progress – the ragtags were travelling around a lot too – but slowly had come to realize that he cared more for his new companions' opinion than his past classmates'.
Seifer was abruptly jolted out of his memories by a huge spider falling upon him from a high branch. And by huge he meant dragon-sized. The damn thing was as big as the robot that had chased them that time in Dollet!
He recovered from his stumble in a moment and helped Itachi make quick work of it, but the unsettling clicking from above them clued him in to the fact that the spider had family around. And he couldn't even burn them all to a crisp. Damn forest.
At least the dark shapes seemed cautious and wary of approaching. If they just let them be, Seifer might feel generous enough not to go out of his way to destroy them after all.
The twisting trees were taking on more definite pathways now. Maybe they were realizing that the Summoner's Rod would lead them unerringly and there really wasn't a point in creating a maze. Or maybe the forest wasn't sentient after all and it was all just random.
Either worked for Seifer, as long as they got to the Cloister of Trials soon, because if his modest experience was anything to go by, they'd be in there for a very long time.
Hyne, he hoped this Cloister wouldn't be as frustrating as the last one!
When they'd at last found the cursed place (and who would have guessed the members of the supposedly lost Deep Sea Research Center facility had found and tried to investigate such a place? He should have sent an article about it to the Occult Fan... just for the hell of it!)... it had turned out to be a labyrinth so convoluted it had been hopeless to try and keep track of its complexity, with walls that were all alike – same colour, same height, same width; anonymous staircases that kept shifting; impossible connections defying the laws of perspective!
It had been an exercise in patience. Seifer had felt his temper – always short even at the best of times – build like steam under pressure as they were slowly being drawn in and swallowed by the gloriously illogical spaces. They'd walked for miles, he swore, along seemingly interchangeable corridors, and gained about fifty meters in a straight line. If that. Nightmarish!
Then there had been a number of barriers – some physical, some magical, a couple even illusionary, letting their minds work against them... urgh!
He still wasn't sure the Aeon had been worth it. Sure it could defend from anything, literally anything, but it was damn slow and looked ridiculous. Like a cross between a heavily-armoured adamantoise and a pink armadillo.
He shook his head to clear it of the remembered frustration just as Stoic Kid stopped them and pointed at something further away, in the midst of all the greens and blacks and flickering rays of filtered sunshine playing at the very edge of their sight.
Getting closer, they admired in slight awe the majestic tree, that despite not being taller than those around it, was at least three times as large. Its bark was cracked and full of knobs and ridges: perfect for climbing, as were the thick, solid branches that spread out rather than up, circling upon themselves and around others and at times twining around nearby trunks, like fond arms encircling friendly waists.
It was the matter of moments to find the staircase carved – magically most likely – inside the amazing trunk and plunging downwards into the rich, moist soil.
It led them to an underground circular room from which four chapel-like spaces branched out. They were all identical in size and shape: only the décor varied. The colour scheme was simple and primary: green with a touch of silver for the one on their right, red and gold for the one opposite it, a deep, royal blue with bronze finishing before them and behind them a cheery yellow with onyx black touches. Drawing closer, their attention was caught by the amazingly detailed and refined bas-reliefs that covered the lower parts of the walls, intricate carvings of flora and fauna framing what Seifer assumed were scenes of past or myth.
They contemplated the beautiful works in silence for a little while, each wandering, and wondering, by themselves, until suddenly Harry exclaimed: "I know this one!"
He was examining the lower frieze in the blue and bronze chapel, bending to run his fingers lightly on a sequence of plant-like carvings: "Powdered griffin claw... shredded dittany ... here's a fire... and this looks like a woman stirring a concoction... and here, look, she's pouring something... it's the instructions on how to create a Strengthening Elixir!"
They blinked.
"Why would such a recipe be the central theme of a decoration?" wondered Scar.
Seifer shrugged, but Stoic Kid, typically, took the question seriously and bent to examine more closely the bas-reliefs in the green-and-silver area, where he was standing: "This frieze, too, seems to be comprised of instructions," he called out. "Although it appears to be centred on the Transformation Technique rather than any alchemic recipe..."
They all walked up to him and, indeed, saw the representation of a man slowly changing into a clawed bird.
"Could you do that?" asked Seifer with undisguised curiosity, because Itachi's ability to change his appearance was truly amazing and not a little dumbfounding.
He got a distracted nod in answer, and after a moment the dark-haired teen mused aloud: "I suppose that, this being a school that teaches such subjects, the choice of portraying lessons in place of the more traditional battles or feasts or other epics might be understood."
"This isn't the school proper, though," objected Harry. "This is a Cloister of Trials. I doubt there would be something here not connected to the task we're supposed to complete."
Scar frowned: "What are you thinking, then?"
"That these might be clues," replied Harry matter-of-factly.
Seifer sighed, put-upon. Labyrinths were bad, but puzzles? Puzzles were even worse. Why couldn't they be facing a simple, straightforward, satisfying battle?
Bored, he crossed his arms and let his back fall with a soft thump against the nearest wall.
Something clicked.
Everybody froze.
Wide-eyed, Seifer pushed himself up and turned to see that a thin section of stone had sunk and recessed into the wall. A low rumble from the middle of the central room made him spin again and he all but groaned. Of all the stupid things to do... how could he have triggered a trap!
Only, it looked like it wasn't a trap after all. They'd instantly grabbed their weapons and readied themselves for a battle, but nothing of the sort happened. Where the rumble had originated, a slim, elegant silver mirror was raising from the floor with quiet grace. Once it was completely out of the ground, it stopped. The rumble died away.
Nothing else happened.
After a while, they relaxed somewhat.
"I guess we're on the right track," commented Harry, cautiously nearing the beautiful mirror. "It looks like a perfectly normal mirror, though," he added after examining it closely. "What do you think we're supposed to do?"
"Hmm..." frowned Scar. He examined the wall section Seifer had accidentally pushed, then marched off to the blue and bronze area once more, scanning the wall there. "Here," he declared with satisfaction after a moment, and put his shoulder to another section of the wall, sinking it into the surrounding stone.
The rumble started up again and this time it was a slim pillar with spiralling carvings that rose from the floor, supporting a silver bowl.
Once again, nothing more happened.
Harry moved closer to the bowl and ran his fingers lightly on its geometric etchings. "Right..." he murmured. "Obviously we must trigger the other two items as well. And considering what these are and where..." he trailed off, glancing speculatively at the instructions carved in the walls.
Itachi nodded: "Logically thinking, the correct transformation must be performed in front of the mirror and the correct concoction must be put into this container to activate... something..." his voice, that had started out with his usual quiet confidence, ended on an uncertain note that was quite unlike him.
Seifer snorted good-naturedly.
Harry, however, was nodding enthusiastically: "Precisely what I was thinking." He rummaged into his belt quickly, a little frown of concentration on his forehead.
As usual, Seifer spared an envious thought for the incredible accessory. It might look like a simple, boring leather belt, but the slim pockets sewn into it were at least three times larger than their outside dimensions and regardless of what Harry stuffed inside them, the weight of the thing didn't increase. He wanted one like it, dammit! Luckily, Harry had promised to get his 'Uncle O'aka' to find one for Seifer 'once he got back', so there was hope.
"Aha!" cried Harry triumphantly. He quickly spread out on the floor an impressive array of odds and ends. "I can do this! Yes... I have everything I need! Well... not using that recipe, actually..." he waved carelessly at the blue and bronze walls, "but I can synthesize the griffin claw from animal glue and coeurl bones, and use roots of burning bush instead of dittany if I mix them with lemon leaves... the result should be the same!"
"Should?" asked Scarface-the-Worrier sharply.
"Will," retorted Harry with a stubborn scowl.
"Alright," was Itachi's predictable acceptance. "We'll keep watch."
"Speak for yourself!" retorted Seifer at once. "It'll probably take him ages, you know how it is with his Alchemy, and I'm already bored. Besides, it's not like it takes all of us for it. You keep watch... I'll have a look around!"
He wasn't surprised when Stoic Kid glared, irritated, but Scarface put a stop to whatever row might have broken out: "Seifer's right, there doesn't seem to be any danger here yet, so you're more than enough to watch over Harry. We should try and figure out the other two chapels in the meantime."
Satisfied, Seifer stalked off with a dramatic twirl and walked purposefully towards the yellow-and-black space for all of five steps before catching a good look at what was carved there and turning sharply for the other option. Languages and ideograms had never been his thing – he'd positively hated those useless classes back at Garden – and that stuff looked entirely too much like the horrid runes that had given him a headache and a half when he'd had to try and figure out the Lunatic Pandora shields – which hadn't withstood a simple airship crashing into them anyway, he might add.
No, magic scribblings weren't his things.
The red-and-gold chamber, on the other hand, immediately caught his fancy. The bas-reliefs on the walls looked like the kind of magic – or rather, para-magic – he'd always known: proudly displayed images he could liken to the effects of holy and thunder spells, little pictures of various shields, even what looked like Quistis' annoying Sonic Waves...
The biggest, central figure was a man who'd clearly cast Float on himself, judging by the way he was hovering above the line of the ground, with a hand outstretched in what could only be the motion of thrusting projectiles. Fireballs, judging by the flames that were enveloping his target.
Grinning, Seifer sought out the stone panel to the side and with yet another rumble, a silver target with a double bullseye rose from the ground.
Not one for waiting, or thinking things through, Seifer twirled, made himself levitate, grinning, and shot a fireball at the thing, hitting it dead centre. Startled shouts burst forth from his friends, almost instantly morphing in peeved epithets.
The target flared with pure white light for a long moment, than faded and sunk back into the ground slowly. Just as slowly, the chapel-like room behind Seifer lit up with suffused light, that rose gently from the floor and pervaded the walls, emanating from the very stone they were made of. When it was all illuminated, it grew brighter and brighter, until it reminded Seifer of the neon street-lights in Deling City. It took a few, long seconds, and then a bundle of white beams shot out towards the place where the target had stood.
And then all was still and silent.
After a long moment of tension, the other three exhaled loudly.
"For pity's sake, Seifer! Warn us next time, would you!" exclaimed a very exasperated Harry, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, some sort of pot before him; the knife he was clenching was dangerously rattling against the floor where he'd let his trembling hand fall.
"What is it with you today!" hissed Stoic Kid, whose grumblings, if Seifer was not mistaken, were yet to finish calling him seven kinds of idiots. It wasn't very easy to tell, though, because they mingled with Scarhead's rant: "What on earth were you thinking! Scratch that, you obviously weren't... thinking that is! Of all the moronic, thoughtless, reckless..."
Seifer grinned, unrepentant: "Oops?" and dispelled the Float, falling back onto the ground with a light thud.
"What if your actions had triggered a trap, or a battle?" snapped Stoic Kid, looking furious.
"Ehm... am I supposed to think that'd be a bad thing?" asked Seifer cheekily.
Harry rolled his eyes at him and went back to his crushed leaves.
"Oh, come on," whined Seifer, "it's pretty clear that nothing's going to happen until we activate all four of the things. I was just speeding things along!"
"And what if you'd startled Harry into cutting off his fingers? Hm?"snarled Scarhead.
That gave Seifer pause. His smile vanishing, he opened his mouth to apologize, but was cut off: "Don't. No, I mean it. Don't say a word. Don't do anything. In fact, go sit there and. Do. Not. Move," growled Scar pointing to an out-of-the-way corner.
Huffing, Seifer obeyed.
"I think I might as well get on with it, too" sighed Itachi and positioned himself in front of the silver mirror.
Almost too fast for the eye to follow, his hands flew through familiar motions and an instant later he vanished into a puff of white smoke, leaving in his place only a sleek, black bird. Seifer sighed in envy. To be able to that would be really something!
Just like the target, the mirror flared with light and then it dimmed and settled into the floor, while the green-and-silver area lit up, the intensity of the light brightening until the expected beams shot out and went to mingle with the ones coming from the opposite direction.
Scarhead went back to the yellow-and-black chapel and found the stone panel, which provoked the rumbling rise of a huge silver cylinder that seemed to be made of piled disks, each carved with several symbols. A few moment's fiddling proved that they could be rotated individually, so that they could be aligned to form different combinations.
"Enciphered array," muttered Scarface almost within himself.
Curious, Seifer started to rise, but a furious glare froze him in mid-motion. Scowling, he sank back on the floor and crossed his arms with a petulant huff.
Companionable silence spread over them as Harry went on mixing and stirring and Scar studied the cylinder carefully, occasionally glancing back to the frieze in the chapel behind him.
Seifer fidgeted, bored. Then he fidgeted some more. Then he decided to try and figure out if he could make Stoic Kid fidget, somehow. He couldn't.
Finally – finally! – Scarface decided he'd got the right combination and gently manipulated the disks into a specific position. With a by now familiar glow, the cylinder sank back into the ground and the chapel lit up, until a third beam joined the first two in a cross-like shape.
Shortly after that, Harry smiled brightly from the other side of the room: "Alright! I'm done here. Everybody ready?"
Seifer jumped to his feet and bounced a little in place to warm up, arms rising above his head in a stretch: "'Course we are!" he exclaimed eagerly.
More sedate nods came from the other two Guardians and they readied themselves around Harry, who stepped up to the etched bowl, carefully pouring what he'd got from his messing about with his powders and oozes in it.
When the beams from the fourth chapel joined the others in the middle, the light got suddenly even brighter, to the point of being unbearable, then coalesced in the middle of the room and they barely had the time to realize what was about to happen and shield their eyes before it exploded into a blinding glare.
It slowly dissipated, leaving dancing spots before their vision, and when they could see somewhat properly again, there was a little creature of vaguely humanoid appearance in front of them.
Its skin was so black it seemed made of condensed night and it was wrapped unbecomingly in a far too big and bulky blue cloak; it wore a floppy, pointy hat, a bit too large for its head, with an enormous brim that further obscured its face and made its very yellow eyes glow in contrast to the shade it cast. The small creature couldn't be taller than three feet and definitely looked ill-suited to wielding any kind of weapons, not even the puny dagger it held close to its chest.
It bounced in place a few time, looking like an eager puppy, and squeaked.
Seifer burst out laughing.
The creature's attention turned to him and it stretched a black hand towards the ceiling. Above its head, tendrils of cloudy darkness appeared and gathered in a spinning vortex that quickly condensed into a ball, wiping the smile off Seifer's face. Before he could react, the orb of darkness fell on him, exploding on contact. It didn't hurt, but Seifer felt a powerful wave of exhaustion wash over him, making his knees buckle and his breath catch painfully as if he'd been fighting T-Rexaurs for hours.
He cursed himself for forgetting the all-important rule – never, ever underestimate an enemy based on looks alone...
Itachi tried a volley of throwing stars, but they bounced off a shimmering shield that encompassed the little creature. Scar didn't have any more luck with his exploding a portion of the floor, as the creature just levitated above the cracking stone and the debris sent flying everywhere slid off the shield as well.
"Would have been too easy," sighed Harry.
The creature squeaked again and seemed to curl upon itself a little; a black aura started surrounding his visible outer skin and its glowing yellow eyes seemed to grow bigger.
It rose a hand again and this time, when it gathered the orb of darkness from nowhere, the blackness was coursed through by coruscate lightning bolts.
"Oops..." grumbled Seifer, preparing to jump out of the way.
Their considerable evading skills proved useless however: the sphere impacted the floor several feet from any of them, yet they were all effected. Seifer felt as if he hadn't slept in a week and he saw Scarface waver tiredly to his left. Stoic Kid was panting, which was practically unheard of, and their Summoner was collapsed on the floor and rummaging frantically in one of his bags.
"It can focus," was Itachi's muttered comment, "storing power for the next attack."
Scar nodded and grimaced: "And it does so in the time we need to recuperate from its attack."
Seifer groaned. "Vicious cycle," he commented disgustedly. "Lovely."
Harry called out weakly and when they turned to him, he let little sparkly phials and oddly-coloured grenades roll on the floor towards each of them. "Items only, let's coordinate," he managed, sounding groggy.
Another squeak heralded a third stormy orb of destructive darkness, which barely gave them the time to scoop up the items before impacting, cursing them with another bout of tiredness and lethargy.
Seifer felt so weak the mere idea of rising the phial to his lips was daunting. His arms trembled badly, muscles aching as if overused. It took a supreme effort to uncork it and down the shimmering liquid with fatigued gulps.
Fire flew in his veins, energizing him so fast it was a shock. He jumped to his feet, absolutely incapable of staying still a moment longer. He felt wide awake and brimming with energy.
To his right, Stoic Kid had resumed his fighting position and was ready, purple grenade in hand, looking at them for his cue. Seifer nodded grimly, spying the creature focusing again – black aura and all – and armed his glowing orange bomb before glancing off to Harry and Scarface, finding them both up and ready.
"On three," called out Scar. "One, two..." and the four grenades flew in graceful arcs with perfect coordination, right as yet another lightning-riddled black orb plunged among them.
The wave of dizziness and the feeling of having received a severe beating returned, but the explosions were going off, and then kept going off – proof that Harry had tampered with the grenades more than a little – as they picked themselves up. That was good.
When the smoke and booms died down, the only sign of the creature left was the blue cloak crumpled in a pool of cloth on the floor, and the over-large hat sagging sadly atop it.
A soft squeak echoed from somewhere and nowhere, and when Seifer looked over to Harry, he saw that the Summoner had a faraway look and a very slight smile, as if he was seeing and communicating with things far beyond anyone else's reach.
Which he was, he reminded himself.
"Another Aeon bagged, then?" he asked cheerfully and though the others rolled their eyes at him, Harry also nodded smiling.
Seifer cheered. Mission accomplished!
"Alright! Now let's go back and have dinner! I'm starving!" he cried, already moving towards the wooden staircase. Breakfast had been far too long ago.
The forest felt brighter and more cheerful that in the morning and their path back was untroubled by either plant or beast, which only served to improve everybody's mood further.
Perhaps that was why the attack, when it came, caught them completely off guard.
TBC...