Narshe was a carefully indifferent town.
The Council of Elders clung to their threadbare neutrality like frightened children. Knowing the southern Empire eyed their city as a strategic stronghold in its ever-advancing war, they refused to take any action that could provoke invasion.
Which was why finding a perfectly preserved Esper in a local mineshaft was such a terribly unwelcome turn of events.
In better times, the discovery would've prompted a flurry of activity. Scientists would've flocked in from around the world, the lure of being able to touch one of the fabled "Phantom Beasts" too great to resist. The Scholar's Guild would've welcomed fresh minds to help rediscover long-lost knowledge. Merchants would've negotiated new trading contracts and blazed new caravan routes. New shops would've opened and new families would have settled in.
The mining town would finally have grown beyond survival into prosperity.
Instead, the only flurry of activity was the Elders' desperate attempts to bury the find before word got out.
It was all useless, of course. Emperor Gestahl learned of the Esper within a fortnight and immediately dispatched a trio of operatives with orders to retrieve it at all costs.
Commander Biggs shifted in the leather seat of his mech. The snowy mountain cold bit through his insulated Imperial uniform. Even the heat from his Magitek engines did little against the chill.
He supposed he was lucky. If it weren't for the Empire's newest technological miracle – the fusion of Magic with good old-fashioned machinery – he and his partner would've had to make the harsh journey via chocobo. The birds were hardy enough to withstand the cold, but they'd bolt as soon as you released their reins.
And they stank.
Despite travelling in relative comfort, he sighed with relief when he saw Narshe's lights twinkling in the distance. He stopped at the edge of a snowfield and looked back.
"Wedge," he called over the wind. "There's the town."
The thrum of engines grew louder as Wedge's machine lumbered up beside him. Its two steel feet gouged tear-shaped tracks in the snow.
"Hard to believe an Esper's been found there," he said, watching his breath freeze on the air. "It's been, what, a thousand years since the War of the Magi? Think it's still alive?"
"Must be, given how urgent our orders were."
"Let's hope so. I'd hate to come here for nothing," Wedge grumbled. He glanced back at the third mech and lowered his voice, jerking his thumb at the slender figure sitting motionless in the open cockpit. "You know why we had to bring Kefka's bloody Witch?"
"Relax." Biggs gestured to the thin metal band around her forehead. "As long as she's wearing that, we're safe. Command says it'll make her obey any orders we give her."
Wedge glanced back again at the thin fingers wrapped around her mech's controls and shuddered. "Just so long as we make it out of this alive."
Biggs nodded and took out his scope to scan the foothills surrounding the town. He refused to look at the Witch's expressionless face. He'd never tell Wedge, but she unnerved him too – after all, they'd all heard the rumors.
Over 50 of their own men killed on a madman's whim, and hers were the hands that did it.
He frowned, plagued with the same fears his friend harbored. They were both good soldiers, loyal, obviously trusted enough to retrieve a crucial asset. Nothing in their careers made the unspoken threat of her presence necessary.
"We'll approach from the east." He snapped the scope back onto his console. "Move out."
Their mechs lurched towards Narshe. In the distance, one by one, each pinprick of light winked out.
They're trying to hide, Wedge thought. It was a fair strategy, he'd give them that. If they'd arrived even an hour later, the mining town would've been invisible against the snow.
Locked shops and shuttered windows greeted them. The steam generators had been turned off. A fine sprinkling of fresh powder on the tarnished copper showed they'd had time to cool down.
The trio had to avoid the low arches that supported the upper hillside terraces. Instead, they guided their hulking mechs around narrow wooden stairs and through uneven streets. All was silent until they reached the town square.
Four white-clad militiamen barreled out of an alleyway, pitchforks and hatchets their only weapons. Large wolfhounds rushed alongside them, barking like mad.
Not worth even powering up our beam weapons, Biggs thought, altering his heading to face them. Lifting his mech's metal arms, he pushed it into a lurching run. A belch of smoke puffed from the rear exhaust stack as the joints ground louder.
Biggs just caught sight of terrified eyes behind snow goggles before his mech's hooked claws ripped through the guard.
The dead man's companion stared at the mangled corpse. With a choked yell, he raised his weapons again and darted forward. He swung, angling for the coolant lines behind the mech's metal knees.
"For Narshe! For freedom!" The thin battle cry disappeared into the snow.
Futile last words, spoken by a man soon forgotten. He couldn't even scream as Wedge's beam of fire mowed through him and his companions. Through the smoke wafting from the bodies, Wedge saluted his commander. Biggs nodded as they returned to formation and continued to push forward.
"Let the Witch take point." Biggs barked the order against the rising wind.
The girl moved forward, her mech's feet crunching over the remains of their opposition.
The town's militia stood no chance. Biggs watched as she silently mouthed foreign syllables, causing a group of their enemies to combust in a ball of fire. He and Wedge mopped up stragglers and stopped the occasional pincer attack.
Within an hour, they reached a fresh mineshaft. Though newly dug, it had been blocked off, crates and scaffolding piled high across the entrance. A dead give-away, thought Biggs.
"Our source told us the Esper is in a new mineshaft. We'll start here," he said. "Stand back."
Moving back a few paces, he revved his engines and rammed the barricade. The snow-soaked wood crumbled under the impact. Easing into the dimly lit shaft behind him, Wedge grinned.
"At least it's dry in here. Warm too."
The three Imperial troops pressed farther in, loose gravel scraping beneath metal talons. The shaft sloped downwards, winding and twisting as it curved with the rock of the mountain.
It took several hours to find a path that could accommodate the size of their machines. Often, they had to blast rock and stone away to widen the tunnels. At one point, they had to abandon the mechs altogether and scout around on foot before Biggs decided to backtrack and take a larger tunnel.
By the time the mine shafts opened into a large cave entrance, the two soldiers craved rest.
Wiping his forehead, Wedge glanced at the witch. Her green hair plastered against her forehead, tangled with sweat and grit. Blood oozed from several wounds. She was in as bad a shape as they were, yet her face remained impassive. As far as he could tell, she was unaware of her own exhaustion.
Groaning, Biggs approached the entrance to the new cave. Before he'd taken two steps, several guards fanned out from behind some scaffolding. They moved to block the entryway, meager weapons ready.
"We won't give our Esper to the Empire!"
A low whistle sounded from behind their spokesperson. He smirked as he and the others retreated into the shadows. The cavern shook as a low rustling reverberated through the floor.
A huge creature slithered out of the gloom. Its long brassy body gleamed in the torchlight. On its back sat a spiked, opalescent shell. Its tiny green eyes glittered with dumb malice as it opened its jaws to scream at them.
Well, shit. They have a whelk. Never taking his eyes off it, Biggs flagged Wedge over to him.
"They briefed us about these, remember? Cave monsters whose shells absorb energy—"
"—and discharge the power to attack intruders, right."
"Hear that, Witch?" Biggs called. "Don't hit the shell."
The whelk let out another whistling howl and launched itself at Wedge, vomiting a mass of membranous goo around the feet of his machine.
He swore as it rooted him to the ground. His mech lurched as he tried to break free, but the high-pitched whine of his engines changed his mind. Stuck as he was, he could only power up his focusing crystal and wait for a clean shot.
The whelk homed in on the sound and heaved itself towards the immobile mech.
Biggs signaled him and shouted orders to the witch.
Looks like I'm the bait. Wedge groaned.
Taking full advantage of its distraction, they rushed to flank the creature and confined their attacks to its exposed flesh. Neon beams of light crisscrossed the tunnel, rebounding off the walls as the three soldiers fired their weapons. The stench of charred meat filled the air.
Halfway through the barrage, the whelk moaned and retreated into its shell.
Unable to stop the momentum of his attack, Biggs hit the shell with a blast of frozen energy. It glowed, threads of power skittering along its surface and arcing between spikes before returning to its normal color.
Biggs let out a short breath.
With an angry crackle, the shell discharged its energy. Searing pain shot through his entire frame, as though he'd been forced against an electric fence. Gasping in short, arrested coughs, he fought to stay conscious.
A soothing wave swept across him, cooling his burning muscles. Savoring the unexpected relief, he looked up to see Kefka's Witch staring at him as she mouthed another set of strange words. Green light pulsed from her fingers to his wounds, replacing scabs and bleeding char with fresh skin.
Swallowing, Biggs maneuvered his mech out of the monster's range. He eyed the unmoving shell and held his new position. Behind him, the witch sent another wave of healing magic towards Wedge.
The whelk groaned as it reemerged from its shell and the battle began anew.
Without blinking, the witch swung around and got the whelk full in the face with a blast of fire. As it thrashed and shrieked in pain, Biggs caught it with his own stream of ice. Wedge fired off a barrage of lightning from where he was stuck.
The whelk slumped to the ground, screeching and twitching. Biggs fired one of his mech's missiles in a final mercy shot. The creature's cries cut off mid-shriek and it went limp, beady eyes glassy and unseeing.
With a rattling clank, Wedge finally broke free of the mucus holding him. He lumbered up to join his commander. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he stared down at the whelk's corpse.
"Eugh. Nice of Command to warn us about the slime. Can we leave?"
Biggs grunted his agreement. The sooner we find this Esper, the better.
They trudged forward, only to stop short after a few yards. The mineshaft opened into a large cavern bathed in blue light. Embedded in the far wall, completely encased in ice, was their Esper. From where he stood, Wedge could barely make out some brilliantly colored plumage under the faceted surface.
They hurried over to the wall. Biggs brushed reverent fingertips over the frozen Esper.
"Finally," he breathed.
A flash of white light threw them backwards, scraping deep furrows into the floor as they slid. Dazed, the two soldiers could only watch as, within its icy cocoon, the Esper began to pulse with light.
Kefka's Witch stood between them, a frown creasing her forehead in the first emotion Biggs had seen her display. Slowly, as if pulled, she maneuvered her mech to stand in front of the Esper.
"Hey, should you get that close?" Wedge called after her.
She made no reply, no sound at all, even as she too began to glow, pulsing in time with the Esper.
Biggs tore his gaze away from the girl as Wedge began to scream. He thrashed in his seat, clawing at the air as the Esper's light consumed him.
His shriek cut short.
There was nothing left.
"What's happening?" Biggs fumbled to the empty spot.
Only the girl remained. She and the Esper pulsed faster, brighter, filling the room with light.
Outside, a snowstorm battered the mountainside. The howling wind and the hiss of sliding snow swallowed the wail echoing from within the mines.
Soft. Warm. The smell of dusty sunshine.
Things she knew but didn't know pulled her into consciousness.
She opened one eye to peek at her surroundings. She lay in a feather bed, wrapped in a patchwork quilt, faded with age, but thick and comforting.
Hearing muttering in the other room, she rolled over and shoved the blankets aside, linen sheets rustling against her clothes. The worn mattress creaked as she swung her legs over the side, alerting the source of the muttering she was awake. The voice stopped and the sound of footsteps drew close. Tensing, she stared at the door as it swung open.
The intruder was an older man, not quite past his prime. His straw-colored hair faded to gray at the temples, framing a face weathered by years spent in snow and wind.
Panicked enough to ignore her throbbing skull, the girl propelled herself to her feet.
"Up and about already?" he asked. "But I only just removed the Crown."
She took a step – to flee or attack, she didn't know – only to falter and clutch her head in pain.
"Easy now. You've been unconscious the better part of two days."
A gentle hand clasped her forearm as the man steered her back to the bed and sat her down. He hurried across the room to a small desk. When he returned, he held a slender circlet of beaten iron.
"This is an Imperial Slave Crown. It robs its wearer of the ability to form independent thought." He narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you remember?"
She shook her head, gaze fixed on the device.
"Don't worry. It'll come back to you in time." The man smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes.
From her seat on the bed, she continued staring at the Slave Crown. Memories danced just beyond her reach, scattering when she tried to grasp them. A howl of laughter, the clank of armored feet, the sharp smell of lightning and burning flesh. They whirled about her in a disjointed symphony.
She struggled to suck in enough air.
As her thoughts reached a crescendo, a soothing whisper unfurled beneath the confusion. Terra. My baby girl. It will be ok. I promise.
The name resonated.
"M-my name is Terra?" The syllables stuttered and jerked, her voice harsh and raspy from disuse.
The man's eyes widened. "Astounding! I'd never dream you'd recover so fast." He looked about to say more, but a loud pounding shook the house, accompanied by muffled shouts.
"Open up! That girl's an officer of the Empire!"
"We want that Magitek-riding witch!"
Alarmed, he rushed from the room. Terra heard the scrape of metal against wood and a lock snapping into place. The man hurried back and tugged her upright. The thumping and yelling continued.
"Arvis, you old fool, give us the girl! She needs to answer for what she's done!"
"Empire? Magitek?" Terra frowned as he propelled her towards a back corner of the room. Panic rose again as she struggled with words she was sickeningly certain she should know.
The man called Arvis fumbled with a latch on the wall, muttering at his shaking hands. A hidden door sprang open and he pushed her through, handing her a battered saber.
"Look, I have to get you out of here. I wish we had more time. Escape through the mines. Head out of the mountains, southwest to Figaro Castle." He pressed a small sigil into her hands and gripped the doorframe. "Give them this. Tell them Arvis from Narshe sent you. Now, run. I'll keep these men occupied. Go!" He shut the door as the muffled thumps against his house grew louder.
Blinking against the wind, she slipped the saber through a loop on her belt. Heading into the snow, her red tunic did little to protect her from the cold.
Arvis' house sat on a small ledge high on one of the cliffs. Frantic, Terra's eyes ranged across the landscape. A chasm separated her from safety. She pressed up against the back of the house, trapped.
Hope and relief bloomed in equal measure when she spotted the bridge that spanned the gorge.
Both died when she saw the creaking tangle of rope and boards up close.
Gripping the fraying guardrails, Terra stepped onto the bridge. She cringed as gusts of wind pushed the aging structure about. The entire woven frame shuddered and groaned with every step she took.
Halfway across, one particularly weather-worn board snapped under her foot. Her leg dropped through the opening as she clung to the ropes on either side of her. The broken plank clattered against the cobbles below. She flinched at the triumphant shout that followed.
"She's up there!"
Whimpering, Terra yanked her leg back up and scrambled the remaining distance. She ducked into the nearest mineshaft. Heedless of the direction, she darted through the gloom.
She lost track of how long she wandered the tunnels. Exhausted, she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes.
A low snarl broke her rest. Whirling to face it, she saw a grey-furred cave rat the size of a small pony. Saliva splattered the floor as it launched itself at her, teeth bared.
Acting on instinct, Terra thrust her arm forward. She heard an unintelligible word crack through the air.
That's my voice.
Fire engulfed her hand before she could process what that meant. She yelped as the blaze shot forward, wrapping tendrils of flame around the oversized vermin's head. Its death shriek reverberated through the tunnels.
Shivering and staring at the blackened corpse, Terra backed down the shaft.
What on earth am I? She could hardly think around her heartbeat. Rounding a bend, she turned around and slammed into a Narshean soldier. Eyes wide, she jumped backwards.
More guards joined the first. He sneered down at her and took a menacing step forward.
"Here's the source of the noise, men." He grinned. "Kefka's little Witch."
Terra fled, running down tunnels at random. She slowed as she reached a fork in one of the shafts. The shuffle of feet seemed to be coming from both ends of the split. She saw the flash of white uniforms closing in and pressed herself against the wall.
A shuddering rumble shook her feet. She looked down right as the floor cracked and gave way. Her scream echoed off the walls before cutting short with a sickening thud.
The leader of the Narshean troops peered through the sinkhole at her crumpled form.
"Got her."
I've loved this game since my mom first played it on the SNES waaay back in the 90s. Over the years that followed, I wore that game cartridge out.
Unfortunately, the Beloved Husband did not share my nostalgic love for it and couldn't get past the older game mechanics to play through it. The dungeons interrupted the flow of the story too much for him and he told me he felt it'd be better suited to a novel.
A novel, you say? I can do that...
Thus, how this fic came to be.
Enjoy!
The rest of this story will be posted on AO3 under the same username and story title.