Author's Note: Welcome, fellow creepers, to another chapter of 'Wonders of the World'. Bear with me. With the holiday season upon us, it's been cray-cray over here and has taken me longer to get to posting again. Still, progress is good. I want this to be a solid story so I'm not rushing things. Thank you for sticking around. :)
DAY 2
VIDEO LOG 3 | North Corel Area | 09-23-00 | 05:15pm
Only the second day of our film project and I already miss the comfy flat surface of a warm bed and late-night binges of online channel browsing. The back of my neck feels stiff from sleeping upright last night. Sitting on hard leathery seats hasn't done my ass any favors either. Chilly air from the outside seeps into the van, meanwhile. To save on gas we sparingly use the heater. The fuzzy blanket meant to keep me warm only reaches halfway down. Now my feet are cold, even with the boots on. Terrific. Despite constantly being on the move for our online channel, I've always hated traveling. There's the nuisance of dealing with unpredictable elements like the weather as well as forgetting something at home.
My arm deodorant… Damn.
Going at forty miles per hour, the landscape featured outside is flat and rocky. North Corel Area. It's been awhile since we chose a film location this far from home. While my team has mostly stuck with the ruins of Midgar, Grasslands, and Junon areas, we did visit Corel City and the Gold Saucer in past episodes of Wonders of the World. It'd been a fun experience.
Riding at the back of the van, I observe the late afternoon colors of orange and purple filter across the sky through a window. Winter has reached the North Corel region but it doesn't snow here. Yesterday, we took a Ferry to cross the sea; an expensive fare. Now we're driving through dirt, rock, and cactus. Certain pockets of North Corel are a flurry of activity. Budding towns expand thanks to WRO's efforts. We haven't come across any post-Meteorfall monsters on the desert road because of them. That's a blessing. Unfortunately, our journey hasn't been without its challenges. My oddball guide has puked a total of nine times since the trip began.
Looking up from my laptop, I stare at the young man with intense blue eyes across me. "You all right?"
Sitting cross-legged on his seat, Wolf keeps his head down. His knuckles are white as he grips his PHS. I can hear the beeping sounds of a game; something he distracts himself with. Wolf doesn't bother to meet my gaze. Instead, he kills something on his mini-screen and mumbles: "…I'm dying."
I'm not sure if Wolf's remark is directed at the game or some exaggerated expression related to his poor condition. He says nothing else and pulls out a bottle of pills from his backpack shortly after. A glossy fat green capsule finds its way into his mouth.
Wolf hasn't been feeling well at all. Strung out from various meds to treat his motion sickness, that flawless skin of his has turned to a pale shade of white. Any time he looks up from the PHS his bizarre blue eyes waver back-and-forth at some undefined spot. I gave the man sleeping pills to survive the Ferry ride yesterday. It helped but Wolf is still in bad shape.
Between repeatedly pulling over for my guide's upset stomach and the ongoing construction work throughout North Corel, we're a half day behind on schedule. The plan is to make a stop at Corel City for tonight. I've already booked rooms at a cheap motel there. It's a delay but the city serves as the halfway checkpoint to our final destination anyway. Besides, it'll be nice to sleep on a bed tonight. We'll soon enough be in the Shrouded Village.
Nibelheim.
The pit of my stomach tightens at the thought. Anxiety and anticipation makes it difficult to sit still. At times, I idly bob my legs like a jackrabbit. It's been a personal goal of mine to discover the greatest wonder of the world and be the first to unveil it to everyone. I want to be the voice of the past; to be a messenger who shares a glorious revelation to the people of Gaia. This new project may finally be it.
Looking over my notes displayed on the laptop's screen, I still haven't figured out the opening lines for the upcoming shoot. There're a lot of angles I want to cover, from a potential cover-up by WRO to theories over what caused the fires. Idle chit-chat from my film crew goes on around me in the van but I largely ignore it. A mini-camera is set on top of the rearview mirror, meanwhile, filming everyone.
Gizmo, Sleepy, Frank, Third-Eye, Wolf, and Mercury… None of us go by our actual names during this grand adventure. We're all addressed by our online personas – our alternate selves formed by a digital frontier where likes, subscribes, and shares are all that matter. In the past, I debated on changing my online name. The word Tseng pops up from time to time. I don't know why. Sounds catchy, I guess. It's somehow familiar to my ears. Third-Eye claims it comes from my former life. He believes I must've been a cars salesman in that life because I wore a suit to work all the time.
Sounds legit enough.
At the driver's seat is the team's technician, Gizmo. As usual, her hair is filled with sunflowers and beads. Gizmo smokes her third blunt of the day and complains about the energy we're sucking from Mother Gaia; this despite the fact she's a slave to technology and requires that same energy to pursue her online activities. The self-proclaimed cyber-hippie has always insisted the Lifestream is a collection of liquefied human remains. To her, our bodies feed the Planet. It sounds sadistic. As Gizmo drives with one hand on the wheel and text messages with the other, we narrowly escape two head-on collisions.
"Oil consumption is no different than mako consumption," Gizmo lectures to no one in particular. Long braided locks of gold hair sway back and forth as she shakes her head. Each time she jerks the wheel left or right, her wooden bracelets loudly click-clack together. "We've reached an age of enlightenment at the aftermath of our own destruction. However, our species has quickly reverted back to the all-consuming primal laws of beasts. Me, me, me… it's all about me. That's our attitude these days. Mother Gaia is not pleased. Mother Gaia demands we shred our animal instincts and become one with her. Consider me concerned."
Gizmo talks too damn much.
Beside her on the passenger's seat is Sleepy. Wearing a vintage Gold Saucer shirt over his round body, our fifty-five-year-old cameraman ignores Gizmo's ongoing ramblings. He despises this young generation of self-professed Mother Gaia lovers. The few strands of Sleepy's greasy, orange hair are combed back across his shiny head. Bags have formed under his small beady eyes. He's been nicknamed Sleepless in Edge City by some of us. I honestly didn't expect Sleepy to join us. In the middle of a divorce, our cameraman has been laying low in his apartment for the past two weeks, burying his woes away with cheap beer, ready-made microwavable noodles, and online booty games. He joined us to forget his problems but has stayed asleep for most of the trip. I suspect the land of dreams serves as a better alternative to his current reality.
"Damn rotten hippie brats…" Sleepy mumbles as Gizmo continues on with her Mother Gaia preaching. Displaying his annoyance, he turns his entire body away from the girl and tries to go back to sleep.
The rest of the crew is at the back of the van with me. Frank currently updates our blog on his laptop, chugging down an energy drink in the process.
The word bear comes to mind whenever I see Frank: big, hairy, and intimidating. I'm relieved he's too busy to talk. We've never seen eye-to-eye. While I know about his cheating wife and hospitalized brother, he brings his family woes to work, often taking his anger out on us. If a situation goes sour, he vents. If I call him out on a mistake, he twists my words around. If we require assistance, he walks away and leaves us to figure it out on our own. I've wanted to kick Frank off the team many times. He brings unnecessary tension to the group. But everyone feels sorry for him. They consider him a guy with rotten luck. I've personally come to accept Frank as an operational manager. He routinely checks our online channel's stats and reports what needs to be done in order to bring up our views and subs. That's as far as he goes to being a team player.
"Have you checked the weather reports?" Frank demands and suddenly looks up at me from his laptop. Waiting for an answer ten seconds ago, he scratches a fuzzy arm.
The tone in his voice tells me he's in one of his moods again. Evenly, I reply, "Not yet."
"And why not? You're supposed to check the weather situation in the Nibel area every few hours."
"We're staying at Corel City tonight. I figured it didn't matter."
Frank's brows level together. He types louder on his laptop and mutters, "Fine. I'll check it myself."
I purse my lips.
Yeah, Frank is in one of his moods again. Of everyone, I receive the blunt of it. It's because I confronted him about his attitude last year. Since then, he's intentionally picked at little things here and there in an effort prove my incompetence. Asshole. Sometimes I fantasize shooting him in the head and dumping his body in a secluded far-off spot where no one can find it. But I would never have the balls to go through with something like that – not in my wildest dreams. Despite owning a gun, I've never used it before. The weapon was a gift. The sight of blood also makes me queasy.
I'm about as tough as a fucking marshmallow.
"Want a cookie, Mercury?" To my right, Third-Eye holds up a sugary treat in his hand. He's a hefty, tall man with rich mocha-colored skin. The team's designated psychic notices my annoyed face. Trying to relieve the tension between Frank and me, he leans forward and smiles.
Third-Eye is the oldest member but certainly acts like the youngest. His gray frizzy afro shifts to one side; a retro style for a seventy-year-old man. Our online audience adores him. Any time Third-Eye appears in an episode, the subs and views shoot up. He's got a warm, magnetic personality. I like having him around. Always dressed in a sharp two-piece suit, he smells of cinnamon all the time. That has a lot to do with his regular job. Third-Eye works at the supermarket's bakery section. He certainly has a sweet tooth. The old man enjoys baking treats as much as eating them.
It's unknown whether Third-Eye can actually see into the future or past as he claims. A skeptic myself, I've always believed his predictions to be circumstantial or a matter of perspective. Still, I've set my doubts aside and invited Third-Eye to this trip. Nibelheim is supposedly a haunted village. It made sense to bring him along. Even if it's all hocus-pocus nonsense, his presence will provide entertainment value.
I accept the cookie offered to me at last; my frustrated thoughts finally dissipate. Third-Eye nods and appears pleased. He soon shifts his attention away and rests his eyes on the final member of our party.
For the most part, Wolf has kept to himself. He's either been drugged out of his mind from the meds or preoccupied with his PHS – definitely the oddball anti-social type. I'm surprised Wolf isn't put off by the chilly air inside the van like the rest of us are. Everyone has a blanket over themselves. This guy though… he sits cross-legged on his seat with bare feet. He doesn't bother to wear his hoodie either. As he plays in his PHS, I occasionally notice a silent blank expression on his face, something that reminds me of Sleepy's own gloomy looks.
It may not be just motion sickness prompting Wolf to keep his distance from everyone. Aside from not knowing any of us, he might have domestic issues back at home too; his mind preoccupied with them. It would explain the wedding ring on his hand and why I found him in the streets yesterday. Maybe his wife kicked him out and they're separated. Divorced, perhaps? Maybe she vowed never to see him again. I'd be lying if I didn't wish this was the case. It'd give me an opening to work with.
Yeah, I can be a selfish bastard sometimes…
"Would you like a treat too?" Third-Eye addresses Wolf next. From a plastic bin, he pulls out a sprinkled cupcake. He waves it in front of him, trying to get the young man to talk and loosen up. "Don't worry, son, it's sugar-free."
Still looking ill, Wolf wipes beads of sweat from his forehead. He continues distracting himself with his PHS. "Sorry. Not interested."
"Your loss then." Third-Eye winks at him and eats the cupcake himself. Licking off the vanilla frosting first, he asks offhandedly, "Excuse me for asking, but have we met before?"
Wolf shrugs his shoulders. The PHS makes bam-bam sounds now.
"I could've sworn I've seen your face at another place, another time…" Third-Eye insists.
"I must have that type of face, I guess."
At this, the dark-skinned man laughs. "Oh, son, I sincerely doubt that; not with those bright blue eyes and wild hair of yours. You stick out pretty well."
Wolf snorts and reactively runs a hand through his erratic-styled hair. I'm intrigued by that fury of hair myself. Initially, I assumed Wolf used countless hair products to defy gravity with spikes like that. But as I see how his hair reacts and gives easily under his touch, I realize it's all natural.
"Maybe my memory ain't what it used to be then." Third-Eye swallows down the rest of his cupcake. After licking his lips, he points at a spot next to Wolf. "By the way, who is the blue-eyed shadow?"
With only his eyes, Wolf looks up. One brow is arched. "Excuse me?"
"The blue-eyed shadow that's next to you."
The PHS beeping stops and Wolf now raises his head. His surprised reaction is shared by others in the van. Franks pauses from his typing while Gizmo goes quiet from behind the wheel. Perplexed myself, I readjust my eye frames and glance back and forth between Third-Eye and the guide.
Blue-eyed shadow? I don't see any shadows aside from the ones we cast below our feet.
"Never mind then." Third-Eye checks the plastic bin again and considers his next treat. He ignores the abrupt silence in the van.
My curiosity is at its peak now. Any time Third-Eye talks like that it usually means he's picking up on something. I set my laptop aside and lean forward with elbows on my knees. "Okay, Third-Eye, I'll take a bite: what do you mean by blue-eyed shadow?"
Third-Eye makes a quick dismissive hand gesture and chooses his next victim: a pineapple glazed donut. "Ah, Mercury, never mind what this old man is saying. I'm just talking gibberish."
"Nah, you brought it up. Don't be a tease. What do you mean by blue-eyed shadow?"
"I don't want to scare Wolf."
This catches my undivided attention. Now I am super intrigued. And so is Wolf apparently. He sets his PHS game on pause and places it between his crossed-legs. Staring at Third-Eye, his eerie blue eyes softly illuminate. It's the first time I've seen Wolf take an interest in anyone or anything. Third-Eye must've taken notice too because this prompts him to talk.
The old man takes a bite of his donut. As he does, his eyes meet Wolf's. "You know why they call me Third-Eye, son?"
"I'm guessing it's because you're a psychic." There's a hint of sarcasm in Wolf's voice.
"Heh, that's what everyone thinks."
"So what are you then? You can see into the future, right?"
"In a way." Third-Eye waits until his mouth isn't full with pineapple syrup to explain, "Since Meteorfall, the Lifestream has leaked into our world. Over two hundred years may have passed but the Planet is still closing its wounds. This affects the land of the living in more ways than one, from ongoing electrical interferences to spiritual crossings."
Spiritual crossings, I think to myself. Third-Eye mentioned this in our last episode of Wonders of the World. He claimed the spirits from the Lifestream sometimes cross over to our realm due to the leakage caused by Meteorfall. Around the world certain bodies of water serve as open gateways to the other side. As a result, priestesses of the old Gaia religion have created seals and performed rituals to purify these contaminated waters, attempting to ward off any stray spirits and return them to the Lifestream.
Third-Eye has often spoken of a particular spirit the priestesses fear most. It is the spirit of a demon; a demon who intends to cleanse the world with fire in the next Calamity. Third-Eye has predicted this entity will rise among men and reveal its name to the world prior to the end of days.
It sounds like folklore bullshit to me. I don't believe in spirits, let alone, demons. But for this trip we brought along digital audio recorders, full spectrum camcorders, laser grids, infrared thermometers, and electro-magnetic field meters just in case. If we manage to capture any spiritual crossings during our time in Nibelheim it'll definitely boost our ratings. People love spooky ghost stories. Some online channels have dedicated their entire life investigating the Lifestream phenomenon. We might gain some of their viewership.
"This is why I can see and hear things no one else can," Third-Eye continues. "It's not just spirits that have spilled into this world but the Lifestream's knowledge as well. The river of life provides a network of information, all collected from the subconscious of deceased persons and Planets. This includes everything from the past, present, and the future. I like to refer to this cluster of information as signals."
"Signals?" Wolf tilts his head to one side, ready for an explanation.
"In the past, only an ancient race known as the Cetra was able to detect the Lifestream's signals and transmit their own. But after Meteorfall these signals became detectable by a few super sensitive people. I call them Receptors. That's what I am, Wolf: a Receptor. I receive signals from the Lifestream."
"And how exactly does that work?"
"Unfortunately, my ability is limited. Unlike the Cetra, I can only receive; not transmit. I also can't control it when it happens. An image may appear to me at any time and at any place, from the past or the future." Third-Eye finishes the donut. He licks his lips and mentions, "Sometimes when I close my eyes I can see the image. Other times it manifests itself to me. It's the luck of the draw, I guess."
"So what's this have to do with the blue-eyed shadow?" Gizmo suddenly speaks up from behind the wheel. Having paid attention to the conversation so far, she briefly looks back at us. "Is it a vision from Mother Gaia? Does this shadow have a special message to share on her behalf? Consider me impatient for the truth. Ensnarl me with your theories, old man."
A car honks up ahead. It forces the hippie girl to pay attention to the road again.
"The image I see is a very faint manifestation and it's near Wolf," Third-Eye replies while his eyes drift down. He notices crumbs on his well-ironed trousers and brushes them off. "The blue-eyed shadow has been with us all this time. It's appeared on and off again since we left Edge City."
This startling revelation causes the air to go still. Even as I remind myself this is all unproven nonsense, an uneasy tingling sensation washes over my skin.
"Bullshit…" Frank mutters nearby. He shakes his head and resumes updating our online blog.
"Wait, hold on a minute…" I blurt out next, "It's been with us since the beginning? Where, specifically?"
"By Wolf." The old man nods at an empty spot next to the guide. "It's faint. However, the signal is not as faint as when we left Edge City. I think the signal is getting stronger."
Both Wolf and I look around his spot. My guide sits by the food supplies. All that surrounds him are canned foods and bottled water. There's nothing out of place; no blue-eyed shadows. No signals. Weird – even when I don't believe in the paranormal I'm admittedly relieved to see nothing there.
"This blue-eyed shadow is attached to you, Wolf," Third-Eye informs. His voice sounds low and even; a telltale sign he's not joking around. "It shares a deep connection. Do you know of any blue-eyed people that formed a special relationship with you in the past?"
Wolf keeps his lips pursed.
"From time to time, I can hear it whisper," the old man claims.
Now the guide's brows go even. He finally speaks. "What's it say?"
"I don't know. The sound is too low. But I suspect the signal will continue getting stronger as time passes on. Hopefully by then I'll decipher its message and figure out what it wants from you."
Sitting quietly in my seat, I'm not sure whether this is good news or bad news. That skeptical inner voice of mines immediately reminds me Third-Eye is an old man with an overactive imagination. And on a sugar high. He's seeing and hearing things that aren't there. I love the guy, but it's hard to take him seriously sometimes, especially when I've yet to gather proof of his receptor abilities. The last time I took his word I was out on a two-hundred Gil bet.
"We're not even in Nibelheim and we're already seeing ghosts…" Sleepy murmurs from his seat. His eyes remain closed. "We should've brought along a damn exorcist…"
Everyone returns to their previous activities at that point. Wolf, himself, picks up his PHS and resumes gaming. His lack of concern over the news indicates he's as skeptical as I am. Even so, I wonder why Third-Eye thinks there is a shadow attached to him. What does it want? And why is the signal getting stronger? While it's easy to dismiss Third-Eye's assessment, there's also a lot I don't know about my guide. I've only interacted with Wolf through emails. So far, he hasn't revealed anything about his past, his real name, what he does for a living, or the details of his estranged wife… Nothing. I'm still curious why he decided to come with us.
It's funny. Despite knowing nothing about him, Wolf is familiar to me. His face… Those blue eyes… It's like I have met him before. Was it in a dream? Hopefully I'll figure Wolf out by the end of this project. Perhaps there is more to this young man than I originally thought.
VIDEO LOG 4 | Corel City | 09-23-00 | 09:42pm
Boom. Boom. Boom. That's what I hear from high above. A large crowd of people gathers at the main square of Corel City with an explosion of cheers. Violins, drums, chimes, and trumpets echo throughout the streets. Multiple fire crackers continue to shoot up and pop loudly. Their elaborate designs expand outward in the sky until they disappear into a cloud of smoke. Everywhere I turn, there are colorful and whimsically designed snowflake decorations. They cover wooden bridges, streetlights, and marble-made water foundations. One group of children dances nearby to the lively music. They blow on their wooden flutes and sprinkle glitter in the air. A pink ribbon is tied around their arms.
The Winter Festival has officially begun in Corel City. It marks a new change in the seasons. It's a time when all things must die to pave the way for something new.
As I watch the ongoing festival from an outdoor patio, I'm surprised by how much Corel City has grown since the last time I visited it. There are many tall bricked structures, all painted with rich vivid hues. The streets buzz with cars and people. Withered flowers and trees appear everywhere – they rest in dormancy until the next season arrives. The integration of nature nicely balances with the steel and stone of man-made buildings. Despite being in the pit of a desert landscape, Corel City is a remarkable place given a charming touch. That may have a lot to do with its beloved founder.
Marlene Wallace. She passed away at the age of ninety-eight over a hundred years ago. Even so, her spirit lives on in the hearts of Corel residents today. In a past Wonders of the World episode I talked about Marlene's father. Barret Wallace was the pioneer responsible for locating an alternate energy source after the collapse of mako. As a result, his daughter inherited a giant sum of Gil and became the richest person on the planet. Marlene used her inheritance to aid in WRO's restoration projects though. In honor of her father, who originally came from Corel, she settled here and made it into the second prosperous city it is today.
Stories of Marlene's kindness have circulated everywhere. The farms she sponsored battled global-wide starvation. She also funded numerous orphanages to house the world's abandoned children post-Meteorfall. Those orphanages became essential during the hard economic times and violent protests that followed afterward. Third-Eye came from one of those homes after he lost his parents to the riots.
Each day Marlene urged people to celebrate and remember how the Planet was saved by hope and dreams. I believe this message kept most of the world from tearing itself apart after the apocalypse.
There's a statue of Marlene Wallace by our outdoor patio table. For whatever reason, it portrays her as a six-year-old child. She holds her hands together, as if in prayer, and looks up at the sky. There are fresh flowers all around her ivory statue. The people of Corel City miss her. They don pink ribbons during festivals and important events, including today. The pink ribbon was something she wore her entire life. It is her legacy. I can't help but smile. With my PHS, I take a photo of the statue. Then I return to my dinner, only to hear Gizmo gripe about the food.
"Vultures. Whose idea was it to order pepperoni and ham?" Gizmo points at the new pizza dish that arrives at our table. "I thought we agreed to avoid meat. Mother Gaia did not bring four-legged creatures into this world to serve as a dish complimentary. Consider me offended and annoyed."
"Not this shit again…" Frank mutters and grabs five slices. He stacks them on his plate.
That action sets Gizmo on turbo mode. She begins her lecture on the torture of animals. I keep out of it and take in the settings instead. Johnny's Pizzeria is only five blocks away from our motel. It's got a great selection of pizza dishes and liquors. Since it's packed inside the restaurant we opted to dine at the outdoor patio. I don't mind. Despite the cold weather, several metal torches keep the air warm. It's also peaceful out here. I can enjoy the lovely view of the Winter Festival from where I sit.
Close by, I hear an old homeless guy play in his acoustic guitar for Gil. He sings about a man driven by despair. Trapped in the land of dreams, he sleeps and waits for the one to awaken him.
As usual, my group engages in banter. Gizmo preaches on. Sleepy tries not to yawn and fall asleep. Third-Eye wants dessert already. Frank eats up his meat supreme pizza with no guilt toward Mother Gaia. And I document everyone with my camera like I always do. Beside me, Wolf keeps silent.
My guide currently smokes a cigarette with his eyes set low. A glance at his plate and I see the slice of pizza I offered him half an hour ago still there; fully intact and cold. His glass of beer also stays full. Our guide hasn't eaten or drank anything since we arrived at the pizzeria. He must still be queasy from the trip. Throughout the group's conversation, though, I notice Wolf's attention strays to Marlene Wallace's statue nearby. He observes it with an unreadable expression on his face. I want to ask him if he's all right. My mouth opens to speak, but Frank starts up a conversation before I get the chance.
"I found an interesting rumor related to Nibelheim," he says and chugs down his beer.
There are so many stories related to Nibelheim, from poltergeists to ten-foot-tall slender creatures, I almost don't want to hear another. Still, my curious nature gets the best of me and I find myself asking, "What kind of rumor is it?"
Frank continues drinking his beer. He doesn't look my way. I initially think he didn't hear me. But then I remember: this is Frank. Frank only talks to his favorite people.
"What did you hear?" Sleepy asks.
"It involves a creature from outer space," Franks immediately responds.
Gizmo stops talking about animal cruelty and scoffs out loud. "What the hell? Creatures from outer space? That's totally lame, man. We're entering cheesy b-movie territory now. It's cheesy with extra provolone cheese. Consider me appalled and fascinated. Please continue."
Frank sets his beer down. "I was on chat with a guy today. He apparently works at WRO's Archives and believes there's a mansion in the village, a very old one. It belonged to Shinra."
Sleepy rubs at his tired eyes. "Shinra? You mean the old company giant that used to rule the world two hundred years ago? The one allegedly responsible for Meteorfall?"
"Yes, that's the one."
"Interesting…" remarks Third-Eye and sips up half of his sweet tea. "What news did you hear?"
"According to my guy, he says Shinra's scientists conducted crazy experiments back in the day. It involved an alien from outer space." Frank shrugs his shoulders. "It sounds like crap, but the mention of an old mansion could be interesting. If it exists we need to document it."
"That rumor still doesn't explain the fire though…" I mutter.
"If you actually paid attention, Mercury, I said a rumor related to Nibelheim. I never said a rumor related to the fire. Listen next time." Frank doesn't hold back his glare.
I bite hard into my slice of pizza.
"Maybe the fire was started by the creature from outer space," Gizmo suggests, interrupting the friction between Frank and me. "Like, maybe the alien was locked up in a secret laboratory of the mansion's basement. It broke out and this freak burns the village down with its laser-beam eyes. It takes human hosts and tries to destroy Mother Gaia. The infected people summoned Meteor and poison the air. We're all infected but don't know it until we die and come back as flesh-eating zombies." Gizmo nods, appearing satisfied with this possibility. "That could've happened. Consider me intrigued and terrified."
Our waiter stands nearby. With a pitcher of tea in his hand, he doesn't move and simply stares at our tech-head with wide eyes. It's hard to tell if Gizmo is high or not since she talks this way all the time.
"Damn hippie kids... getting doped up and listening to their Mother Gaia music," Sleepy shakes his head. He crosses his arms and offers another explanation. "It was a gas leak, simple as that. Someone forgot to turn off the stove."
"It could be tormented spirits," adds Third-Eye and raises his glass to the waiter for more sweet tea. "The Shrouded Village could house a gateway into the Lifestream's darker waters; a place where humanity's twisted subconscious resides."
"Oh, man, not that spiritual mumbo-jumbo again…" gripes Frank. "It was arson. Some shit-faced brat intentionally lit the place up."
"Maybe it was Shinra," I offer my own two cents. "Maybe they wanted to cover up a major secret, especially if they actually occupied the village."
The crew offers various theories. They range from the reasonable to the absurd. Roughly ten minutes of speculation pass until a voice who hasn't uttered a word since we arrived at Corel City finally speaks up.
"Maybe it was a man who lost his way…"
I direct my attention to our guide. So does everyone else at the table. For a moment, I don't think Wolf will say anything else. He sits there in his usual distant quietness, tapping the ashes off his cigarette's tip. The smoke smells funny. It smells like mako. The citrus scent of it nearly makes me sneeze. For what feels like an eternity, Wolf keeps quiet until he opens his mouth again. His voice isn't above a murmur.
"There once lived a powerful swordsman whose life and death defied the laws of nature," Wolf starts, "Possessing strange green eyes and hair the color of moonlight, he lived before the time of Meteorfall. The world once hailed him as a hero. For a time, he might have been."
Nearby, the old homeless man plays a different tune on his acoustic guitar. He now sings about a beautiful angel who held the world at his feet. Satin sheets covered his bed. The wine on his lips always tasted sweet. The angel's voice emerged as a low deep melody that made many go silent. This revered creature fought many battles. For glory. For absolution. And for a love he could never find. Light shined on him until the day he fell from grace.
I shift in my seat. Leaning forward to hear Wolf better, my camera records him.
"He was a man of incredible strength," Wolf resumes, "He could slice down enemies twice his size with a sword called Masamune. The world belonged to him."
Gizmo keeps her eyes fixed on Wolf as she loudly slurps up her drink through a straw. "A powerful swordsman loved by the world? Consider me fascinated. Do say more."
"A type of sadness existed in him," Wolf whispers back, his eyes unable to meet anyone. "It had always been there. No amount of worship, worldly pleasures, fortunes, and victories could fill his void. Since the day he was born, he hungered for a love that would make him complete. Mother deprived him of that though. He never knew her. As a result, this boy grew into an incomplete man with a half-empty heart."
Frank snorts out loud. "Sounds like a real momma's boy then. What a pussy."
"In a child's mind, Mother is the name for God." Wolf finally looks up at us. His eyes don't stray as he adds, "Mother is love. Mother is the world. Whether we believe in that or not, many people hunger for an eternal love, especially those lost in the darkness. He was no different."
"So what happened to him?" I zoom into Wolf's face with my camera. This story sounds familiar to me – I don't know why. "What happened to this man with a half-empty heart?"
"He finally found the love he sought. It defined him for the rest of his life." The tip of Wolf's cigarette burns brighter. He sighs. "Wanting to prove his devotion to his beloved, the swordsman set out a new agenda. His first act led him to visit each home in the village. He knocked on every door three times. As the residents answered, he withdrew Masamune and chopped off their heads."
Next to Wolf, Sleepy's eyes go wild. "What the fuck?"
"This tactic kept them from screaming and alerting the others in the village," the guide explains. Wolf grabs a knife inside his napkin. With it, he pretends to slice off Sleepy's head. "Schlikt. Schlikt… That was the sound his sword made. It was followed by the thud-like sound of a head falling off."
At this point, the entire table goes silent. Frank stops eating his pizza.
Wolf raises the knife at eye level and stares at its shining tip. The light in his eyes intensifies. "One by one he plucked the sheep from their flock until they realized what was happening."
"D-didn't the villagers do anything?" I ask. "Fight him back? Run away?"
"There was nothing they could do." Wolf halfway snorts back at me. "Those who fought him, died. One foolish boy attempted to set him in fire. That failed. It backfired instead and set the village ablaze. As for those who ran, they were quickly found. This swordsman stalked the whole village, determined to cleanse the land. He slid his long sword deep inside locked closets, cupboards, and under the beds. When he pulled out the blade fresh blood would be on it. No one could hide from him."
The mental image of this blood bath leaves me stunned. I'm beyond words. Nevertheless, a question burns at the tip of my tongue. "But… why? Why did he do that?"
Wolf sets the knife down and takes a long drag from his cigarette again. His eyes meet mine. "I explained it to you already, Mercury: for love."
I go quiet.
"He sought what he wanted all his life and found it. In his mind, these dead people would merge with him in the Lifestream. He would receive all their love and at the same time appease Mother…" Wolf shrugs his shoulders. "Or so the story goes. You guys are free to believe whatever you want to believe."
Wolf doesn't add anything else. He goes back to his own little world and finishes the rest of his cigarette. Somehow, the air feels chillier. While the music of the nearby festival plays on in the background, the mood at our table turns solemn. Frank drinks up his beer and briefly glances at Wolf. He shakes his head. Sleepy is fully wide awake while Gizmo actually stays silent for once. As for Third-Eye, he doesn't take his eyes off Wolf. The old man observes him with the same serious expression he donned in the van hours ago. I wonder if it has to do with the blue-eyed shadow or the story Wolf just shared to us.
I'm not sure what to believe myself. A madman prompted the fire in the village? This is a theory I've never heard before. It's also more terrifying than stories of a faulty mako reactor or vengeful spirits. If such a deranged swordsman actually existed it will be hard to collect evidence of him. This took place before the time of Meteorfall. Still, this is why my crew is headed to Nibelheim Village. We'll uncover the truth one way or another. And we'll become the biggest online channel around in the process.
The rest of the evening goes uneventful. We finish our meals.
The old man with the acoustic guitar, meanwhile, continues plucking away his strings. His throaty aged voice sounds deeper as he sings about a new fantasy ready to unfold. A group of lambs journey to a desolate place where the snow always falls. A beautiful angel calls to the one who will make him complete. He will make Eternity his. Gaia's dark harbinger will rise again and the messenger of gods will receive the final message before the world comes apart.
This is a song about love, the old man sings.