After the Fall Prelude to Hope

by edgarmash79

A year after the calamity wracked the world into ruin, Celes woke from her sleep to begin her search and reunite everyone. But what were the others up to during the year before Celes's awakening? These are tales of fallen returners searching for meaning in a broken world, following their own personal journey until the day they are reunited with Celes and the others.

3. Relm

Disclaimer: Final Fantasy and all affiliated characters are owned exclusively by Square-Enix. Please support the official release.

After the Fall / Prelude to Hope

Relm

Everything happened so fast.

At first, there was a deafening snap followed by another that rocked the Blackjack.

A bright spark descended to the land below from the Continent, yet above them, storm clouds amassed so fast the sun's rays disappeared, blocking all light. The skies were so dark only the lights from the Blackjack lit the deck.

"Grandpa!" she shouted. "What's happening?!"

Strago bolted to the port side to peer outward under the ship's balloon-shaped mast. His hands gripped tightly as his body tensed before he spun to face those still on board. "Brace yourselves!"

"What?!"

"Relm! Get down, now!" he yelled, rushing to her. The force of the wind blew the ship about, forcing Setzer to adjust each time to catch those who fell from the Floating Continent.

A thunderclap banged like a shotgun blast above them, coupled with a bolt of lightning that struck the top of the ship. "Dammit!" she heard Setzer yell.

"You couldn't stop their magic?!" Strago shouted at the quartet, joined seconds later by the assassin, Shadow.

The ship shook violently, tossing the passengers around. Relm shrieked and tumbled forward. "Relm!" Strago said, catching her.

"I've got you!" she heard Terra. "Celes, give me a hand!"

"I'm com-AGH!" Celes lost her balance and tripped backward, crashing into Setzer. "Celes!" Terra shouted.

Another bolt of lightning struck the ship, which caused another snap, even louder this time. The wood creaked and cracked so quickly that the whole of the ship split apart. Relm instinctively reached for Strago with her hand. "Grandpa!"

"Relm!"

Strago reached back, but the wind was so strong it blew away the back half of the ship. Relm could only look on at her grandfather as he shrunk in her field of vision.

She then found herself lifted off from the ship itself and spun around. Her bag, containing all of her prized artwork and sketchbooks, would've flown off her had she not held onto the strap for dear life. She shrieked again. "GRANDPA!"

Before she could pull the bag back to her, her body struck something below – the ocean.

She hastily swam upward. She had no time to hold her breath and flailed aimlessly to reach the top, kicking fiercely. She reached with her hands, desperate to grab a hold of something, anything to get her the chance to breathe again.

Debris pierced the water's surface and nearly struck her. Whether it was from the ship or something else, she only cared that she had something to focus on that would help her get out of this predicament before it became her resting place. There was so much chaos, surviving somehow was her only option.

While reaching for what looked like a large piece of wood, her bag slipped away. She couldn't risk what little breath she was able to hold in to reach for it, opting for her life instead. She swore to herself she would die before losing her creations, but even she had to be selfish enough to say screw it.

Once she had a firm hold of the plank of wood, she snagged another piece with her free hand and pulled herself out. A gasp escaped her mouth as she exhaled, eating all the air she could get into her lungs. She wrapped her arms around the wood, clutching onto them as she wheezed and coughed. Spitting out salted, bitter-tasting water each time it snuck into her mouth, she searched frantically for signs of the others. Did they land where she did?

She coughed too much to call out to anyone, especially her grandfather.

Moments later, her bag had floated back to the surface. Kicking with her legs, she directed herself to snag it out of the water to hang it back on her shoulder. Violent storms, titanic cyclones the likes of which defied the natural order blew across the ocean and onto landmasses. Lightning struck randomly, one so close she thought the heat would've singed her clothes and boiled her skin. It struck one of the pieces of the ship and splintered it, showering her. She shielded her face with her arms, cautiously avoiding catching anything on her face. She had to find land soon and a place to hide.

What she had not anticipated was the emergence of a tsunami that had begun to form hundreds of meters away. Relm propelled herself forward, desperate, panicked, praying to the heavens she'd find land. The water currents began to accelerate as the tsunami closed in fast. Relm glanced behind her once and each breath she took was fraught with nerves. She pumped her legs so hard she could no longer feel them, but even that was not enough to outswim the giant wave that was looming over her. "HELP ME~!" she bellowed before she was lifted by the wave and launched forward. The momentum was so fast her vision blurred before everything went black.

She felt lost in a deep fog, unable to see anything beyond her hands. The mist was so thick no light seemed to penetrate. Minutes, maybe hours, could've passed in the blink of an eye and she wouldn't have known it.

What she did seem to be aware of was more coughing. The mist shifted, converging into the ocean water again. In a panic, she believed she was deep in the depths once more. Her coughing continued until water vomited out of her mouth and on her cheeks. Her body spasmed, or so she thought. It felt more like someone shaking her, nudging her with an appendage or a stick.

Rolling to her side, she threw up more water, hacking aggressively before her forehead touched the wet sand. Sand?

She opened her eyes to see that it was indeed sand she was touching. Raising her head, her vision cleared enough to recognize a beach of sorts. Once again, she found herself out of breath, taking in all the oxygen her body needed.

Her headscarf had been long since gone, likely blown off her head before she was ejected from the ship. It's not a dream, is it?

There was something else – the bag!

She checked herself first for the bag. Her heart raced when she couldn't feel it on her. "No, no, no, no, no…!"

She tried to stand but tripped. Her legs were like pillars of lead, grounding her to the sand. Gravity worked overtime, it seemed, forcing her to crawl to search for it. "Please, no…."

"Were you looking for this?" said a voice behind her. It sounded familiar. It had the tinge of a bubbling cauldron, only high-pitched and grating to the ears. Of all the -.

She spun to face the source, an abnormally-sized octopus with lopsided eyes that looked anywhere except at her. Clutched in one of its tentacles was her bag. She knew who this purple-colored doofus was.

She eyed the bag and nodded. "Here, I'll lay it before you," the octopus said. She thought her brain was so water-logged she had forgotten its name, but Ultros wasn't a name easily forgotten. "You have got to be joking right now," she said, more to herself than to Ultros.

"Um, I-"

"Shut it. Not right now," Relm said, holding her hand up to halt him. She took her bag, brushing off the sand vigorously. Unlatching the straps that bound the bad closed, she lifted the lid off. She pulled items out one by one and was close to sobbing from the state they were in. Soaked to an unrecognizable state, she turned the bag upside down and watched as a prism-colored liquid poured from inside. She let the bag drop.

Bending forward, she lowered her head so much that her forehead touched the bag. She dug her hands into the sand and squeezed so tight her knuckles were white. With all the breath she could take in, she unfurled a shriek. She shrieked, screamed, and howled, pounding the sands furiously while throwing every curse she had heard from the adult Thamasans onto her bag.

When she lifted her head, she saw Ultros shield his face with several tentacles. "You're mad. Oh dear, oh dear. You're really mad, aren't you?"

"Mad…?" Relm said calmly. She rose to her feet, stomping one step at a time on the sand towards Ultros, dragging her bag behind by its strap. "I'm mad…?"

She stopped inches from him. "I'm not mad, Ulty."

Ultros lowered his tentacles. "Huh? You're not mad?"

He rubbed the top of his head. Likely confused, she couldn't tell. But that didn't matter considering what she did next.

"I'm fucking nettled, you grape-juice-colored jackass!" she bellowed, swinging down with the bag to strike him. She swung and hit him repeatedly with the bag, forcing him to cower and cover his face once more. "Ow! Ow! Stop it!" he cried. "I'm sorry! Please, stop hitting me!"

"The world's gone to shit! I lost my shit! I'm soaked so much I can't tell if I smell water or shit! And I want to throw up because your breath smells worse than shit! So. Don't. Fucking. Ask. Me. If. I'm. Mad!"

After her last hit, she paused before reaching for another. Hearing what sounded like sobbing under those tentacles, she lowered her arm slowly. "Oh, God damn it."

Tossing the bag aside, she stormed away from the blubbering octopus to snatch one of the soaked sketchbooks. The cataclysmic background held little interest right now as she slumped down onto the beach. She carefully peeled each page, hoping there was something still recognizable she drew. When she reached the last page, she could discern the rough etchings of the Floating Continent she wanted to work on. It wasn't every day one saw such a colossal piece of landmass floating eerily in the sky. Tried as she did, but she was not able to convince Strago to go with the volunteers to see the Warring Triad itself. It would've made for an epic portrait if she could draw the very gods of magic themselves up close.

But those gods were what caused the devastation that lay before her.

Those gods were what tore the ship apart and separated her from her flesh-and-blood grandfather. From her friends. From anyone.

Any artist would've seen the image of the apocalypse happening at this moment and put pencil to paper. If she had a canvas, she would've gone to work to paint the landscape of destruction. But she couldn't. There were no sketchbooks, no easels, no blank canvasses, and no materials to draw and paint with. She was stripped bare of what gave her purpose, leaving her alone and cold on a barren beach of who-knows-where.

She threw the ruined sketchbook as carelessly as she did her bag. It didn't matter where it landed. It didn't matter what had washed ashore. Not even hunger mattered. She also found her throat and lips were parched and dried from ingesting and rejecting all that salt water. She was too fraught with unfocused rage she couldn't care less how long she'd be without food or clean, drinkable water.

If only she had more time to learn, she'd have had Terra teach her a few spells from the Magicite the young woman acquired. Learning fire at least would've been helpful to dry off and start a fire of her own to warm her body. The winds that blew from the cyclones off in the distance made things gradually worse until she was forced to wrap her arms around herself tightly, rubbing her arms to gain any sort of friction.

She needed to take her mind off the frigid air chilling her skin. Fishing a stick from the sand, she began to draw, tracing lines to form a caricature of an animal she soon realized was a dog. Once she saw what she drew, she began to think about what could've happened to Thamasa and those who were still there.

Interceptor was there.

Adjusting the design, she changed the physiology of the dog to resemble more of Interceptor's breed. Once she was done, she sketched a man clad in ninja garb beside the dog. She wasn't a stranger to the two spending time together. Interceptor wasn't too far away from Shadow no matter where he went. That one time she snuck off to trail Strago, Terra, and Locke, she was certain Interceptor would follow along to keep her safe. It wasn't until she reached the town's border that the dog stopped, turning his head back to the assassin.

"You want to stay with him, don't you?" she asked the dog. Interceptor barked a response. She knelt and wrapped her arms around him. "You're a good dog. Go keep that guy safe, you got it?"

Watching the sketch in the sand made her think more about it and she was tempted to lie beside the drawing, imagining that Interceptor was right next to her. Instead, she erased her sketch. It wouldn't be worth preserving if the tide reached her feet to erase the drawing regardless.

She continued to draw until she stifled a yawn. At least the blubbering octopus's sobs finally subsided after what seemed like an eternity. So what if he was hurt by what she did? He was a stupid octopus anyway. She drifted off to sleep thinking about a time years ago when Strago carried her on his shoulders. He never did fix that flying scooter, did he…?

Something hot close by woke her sometime later. She wasn't sure what it was until she noticed flames and the sounds of crackling wood snapping. There was also the faint aroma of fish?

"Huh…?"

She thought she'd still shiver after waking up, but the heat from the open flame was soothing. Part of her clothes, the front half at least, was dry to the touch in a few spots. It wasn't much, but she welcomed it. To confirm the smell of cooked fish, there was something impaled on a stick upon a makeshift spit above the flame. "What the hell…?"

"Y-you're awake, finally," came Ultros's voice. Relm wrapped her arms around herself, annoyed. "What the hell do you want?" she asked.

"You can have that if you're hungry. I'm sorry I don't have water, but that's the best I can do. There were burnt trees back there that I used to start a fire. I-I, I'll leave you alone."

Relm eyed Ultros cautiously. Strands of damp hair were still matted to her face, forcing her to brush it away. She reached to snag the stick but retracted quickly. "I can't grab it, it's too hot."

A tentacle reached to take the stick off the heat, passing it to her. "I thought you hated fire. That's what Terra told me."

She heard a long sigh escape the octopus's mouth. "What a mess of things. I liked those kids, and now they're all gone. And you're here, but you're mean and I don't like it."

Relm snatched the stick, certain it had cooled enough to handle. She carefully removed the skin of the fish, which slid off with ease like butter. Before she could take a bite, she could see that Ultros's face almost had a human-like aspect to it. It was as if his eyes were focused enough to avert her stare and bashfully conceal his face on top of it. "I'm sorry."

The fish was flaky and white under the skin, and even without seasonings, it was still fatty and flavorful in its own way. It was something, at least.

Ultros busied himself by fetching additional pieces of flammable material he could add to the fire to keep it alive. Relm could tell he wanted to ask her a myriad of questions, probably another one asking whether she was still angry – she was – or whether she intended to start searching for survivors.

The question of survivors was shortly answered the next day when a body washed ashore. Relm waited for signs of movement, but the only thing moving was the body pushed by the ocean tide onto the sand. Ultros rolled the body over, revealing a young woman. Relm flinched at the sight, recognizing her as one of the people of Thamasa.

"Amicia," Relm whispered. A flower girl known to assemble bouquets with a little sprinkle of magic to add a beautiful palette of colors. Relm loved spending time sketching each bouquet Amicia completed in her sketchbook to show Strago later. She expected the body to have flowers in its hand, but Amicia's pale face told her she had seen horrors of her own before she was swept into the depths.

Beyond Amicia's body were a few others. Her jaw lowered at the sight of them. They were Thamasans, all of them. The unique stylish clothing of flowing dresses and pants with colorful shirts and jackets was unmistakable for descendants of the Magi. Did Thamasa itself suffer the destruction of the Warring Triad's magic? Were the magic users not strong enough?

The whole thing only fueled her rage even more. Rage at what she lost, rage at her failure to be anything more than a simple virtuoso. Her only gift was to bring her drawings to life with artistic flair, yet the apocalypse robbed her of that. She gazed ahead at the ocean, knees brought up to her chest. She wanted to curse, but what was the point of that now?

Each day had her sketch from memory a villager from Thamasa she discovered either washed ashore or floating face down in the water. Each sketch was then subsequently erased with a kick, a vigorous scratch of the stick, or the tide rolling in. She'd be bawling if she were younger, but sound advice from Strago echoed in her head. Sure you could cry and let it all out, dear. But sometimes things happen when you don't have control, and that's okay. You look ahead, stomp your feet, and tell those things they're not the boss of you. They're more stubborn-headed than I am.

She didn't shed tears. She wanted to keep that fire burning. Until she could pick up a paintbrush with a blank canvas, she needed to be blazing.

As Ultros brought her more fish – edible ones at least – for her to cook and eat, her energy was coming back. She also began to realize the aches and soreness her body had ignored earlier from the impact of the ocean to swimming for safety amidst the catastrophic storms and being washed ashore by a tsunami. She cooked, ate, and sat to stare at the ocean.

It wasn't until a surprising face appeared that she was tempted to release what she built. Of all the survivors to appear, it had to have been Interceptor.

Why did it have to be the doggie? It was maddening!

Relm restrained herself, watching out of the corner of her eye a dog elated and excited to see a familiar face. No, you're still angry, Relm. It's not the right time to pet the doggie. But he's alive! This is agonizing! I need to stay angry! It's giving me purpose, dammit!

"Go away," she finally told the dog. I'm sorry, Interceptor!

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the dog's ears lower, defeated. He gave a small whimper before turning to leave. A stray tear hid from his sight, forcing her to close her eyes in protest. Don't make this so difficult!

There was another creature of sorts that she had seen Ultros talk to on occasion. Mr. Typhon, she heard the octopus call it. Amidst all the "Fungah!" it screeched, it was amazing that the creature had anything resembling a language Ultros understood.

Whatever the conversation was, Interceptor was convinced to climb onto Typhon's back as it flew him across the ocean. It snapped her out of her funk for a moment. "The f-?" she whispered before she spotted the back of Typhon. "Why does it have a mouth for an ass?!"

Ultros waved his tentacles wildly. "Oh! Please don't make fun of Mr. Typhon! He's very sensitive!"

"You're kidding."

Back to being angry, it was – with a little mix of abject confusion – as she glared at Ultros. "Does Interceptor know what he's doing?" she decided to ask.

"He's off to find his partner, whoever that was," Ultros said. He rubbed the tips of a pair of tentacles together, looking pensive in some way. Relm rolled her eyes. "It's Shadow, you nimrod. Of course, he'd go find him."

"Hey."

Relm stomped past the octopus to fetch the bag she cast aside several days ago. Dusting off the sand, she examined every aspect of the bag. Lifting the latch, she peered inside. Shaking her head, she dragged the bag across the water to fill it up. Swirling it inside, she poured it back out to rinse whatever colors were still blended inside, watching the remnants of the prismatic soup pour out. She could see Ultros watching her. Sighing, she spun back to the ongoing campfire. "Grandpa gave this to me for my sixth birthday. I sure as hell won't have this lost."

"But, you tossed it aside as if you didn't care about it," Ultros said. He flinched as she raised it, ready to strike him again, but relented. "It survived the end of the world, didn't it? I've tossed this thing around hundreds of times. It can take a beating, and apparently so can you."

"Why are you being so mean to me? Am I not Uncle Ulty?" Ultros asked. Relm paused until he backed off, watching as the trails left by his tentacles along the sand left a random pattern.

"Oh, piss off with that 'Ulty' crap, already. I've already told you things have gone to shit and I'm not in the mood to play nice with anyone right now," Relm said as she stormed back to the campfire. She lay the bag upright next to the flames to dry it off.

"Not even your friends?" Ultros asked.

"Did I stutter?"

The octopus slumped forward, blowing a cloud of sand from his mouth. "Won't you go look for your grandfather, at least?" he asked.

"The old duffer's lived through worse. I know he would've survived this," Relm said, stoking the fire with a stick. "Get me a fish, would you?"

Ultros slammed his front tentacles. "Now see here, young missy! I'm octopus royalty! I've had it being your little servant! Go get your own fish!"

"Fine. If you're gonna keep being a big suck, go be a big suck somewhere else. I can manage, thank you very much," Relm said as she approached the water. She could tell Ultros was watching her try to figure out how to catch fish, but in her anger, she lost track of how Ultros managed to get them out of the water and by her side. There was no harpoon or a pointed stick of sorts she could use, nor was there a trace of a net to draw them in. Throwing her hands up, she groaned. "Dammit! I don't know, I, I'm not used to, I'm, I'm, fuck!"

"You shouldn't use such language, Relm," Ultros said. Relm flipped him the bird. "Or tone it down at least?"

She paused before flipping him off with her other hand. "Get. Me. My. Fish." She said with a sharp grin.

"Please and thank you?" Ultros said.

"What?"

"Only if you ask nicely. I may not look like a friendly octopus, but at least Mama always said to mind my p's and q's. So Please and Thank you's are in order," Ultros explained as he glided across the sand to the ocean water.

"Whatever. May I please have a fish?" She said half-heartedly.

"It's a start," Ultros said before he dove underwater.

Moments later, fish were flying out of the water, collected along a patch of grass still intact from the cataclysm. Flopping around, Ultros surfaced, dropping several into his mouth. "Didn't realize I was so hungry! This oughta satiate me for a while!"

"Ugh," Relm scoffed. Grabbing the stick she had been using to cook the fish over the flames, she tried to skewer the fish one by one so several could be cooked at once. After several attempts, she shook her hands. "Damn it all, it's not working!"

Ultros did it with such ease it amazed her – for a moment.

"Thanks, I guess," she told him after he offered the fish skewer. Placing it over the flame, she sat and watched out of boredom the fish cooking.

"We've been here for some time now. Okay, maybe not even a month, but is there somewhere you want to go?" Ultros asked.

"What do you mean?"

"What about your home? There should be survivors there," Ultros said. There have been frequent thoughts regarding going back home, but she didn't want to go back alone, not unless she wanted to be showered with questions regarding whether Strago survived.

"It's going to be a while before I return to Thamasa. I've got other things I want to get done first," she said. Turning the stick, she flipped the fish skewer to cook the other side.

"I could take you if you want. Wherever you need to go, I'll get you there," Ultros offered.

Relm arched an eyebrow.

"On one condition."

"What?"

"You treat me nicely. And none of that naughty language, either. The ocean is my domain and you could easily be swimming across if you're not careful," Ultros advised. Relm propped her elbows up, resting her face on her hands.

"I won't treat you like shit, I promise. But don't ever tell me what I'm not allowed to say. Agreed?" Relm said bluntly.

Ultros playfully tapped his front tentacles. "Agreed. So where do you want to go?"

A smile finally crossed Relm's lips. "The best place for artists to visit. Jidoor."

If Ultros had any other expression than his usual dopey-eyed stare, he would've been put off by her statement. "Wait. How do you know about Jidoor? Aren't you Thamasans so back-watered you never left the island continent?"

Relm narrowed her eyes. "It was our secret that couldn't leave the village. It's not like adults haven't left to see other places before. And Grandpa was able to pull in a few favors to help me with art supplies when I started drawing. Jidoor is where it's at when you want to shop for art. I heard they have some mega-rich guy who collects artwork all over the world. I begged Grandpa to let me travel to Jidoor, but he wouldn't let me. I…," she paused, glancing at the ruined sketchbooks. "I wanted to show the mega-rich guy my portfolio."

"I suppose I could take you there. I think it's that-a-way," Ultros said, pointing a tentacle to the northeast.

"Then we'll go after I eat," Relm said. Excitement seemed to meld and subdue her anger, which given the circumstance of a free ride across the ocean, was an encouraging thing. It was also at the same time that Typhon returned.

"Mr. Typhon! Did the doggie make it safely?" he asked.

"FUNGAHH."

"He says yes. The dog didn't give him a fuss, either," Ultros told Relm.

"FUNGAHH."

"I don't think she's still angry. But I'm afraid to ask."

"I'm not as pissed, no. Because I know I have a chance to visit Jidoor and paint again!" Relm said, rubbing her hands together. She clutched the bag tightly against her. "What better things to fill you back up with than from the very source? I can't wait to get there!"

Getting a good look at Typhon was odd at first. She couldn't tell which head ate, or whether this thing poops or not. She shuddered immediately at that thought.

Amidst the mostly pink coloration with yellows and greens, she studied Typhon's color structure. She even approached him out of curiosity.

"You're one very strange human, you know that? Most would run away screaming at the sight of Mr. Typhon," Ultros said, but Relm shushed him with her finger against her lips.

"Lemme focus," she ordered. "These colors blend in so naturally. And this, is this fur? Scales? Rough? Smooth? Can I touch?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She traced her hand along the underbelly, while her other hand explored the creature's side. There was a mix of fuzzy and scaly, fuzzy being what constituted Typhon's stomach – or whatever passed as a stomach.

Scaly would describe more what was along the back and sides of Typhon, covered with unnaturally smooth fur. "You're awfully fluffy for a thing with a mouth for an ass," she noted.

The creature grumbled something low in its throat, or throats, she wasn't sure. A thing with two mouths must have some proper anatomy inside that makes it function, yet it was low enough that she could only examine its rear mouth.

"Mr. Typhon is purring," Ultros said. "He likes it when you rub his belly."

Relm almost threw up in her mouth. "Thanks for telling me."

She examined the front mouth. "So where does it eat from? And how is this thing floating, or flying?"

"I don't know the specifics, honestly. But some sort of wind thing exists inside that keeps him in the air. But it gives him terrible hay fever so he's prone to sneezing a lot."

Relm immediately backed off. "Hey, don't you start sneezing me off this place, mister!" Relm exclaimed.

"FUNGAHH!"

"He already sneezed on the way here, so you're fine," Ultros said, patting Typhon's top with a tentacle. "They don't have a cure for what ails ya, I'm afraid."

"FUNGAHH."

"I know. I'm still waiting for something that'll make me fireproof." Ultros patted himself repeatedly, then at Relm.

"I know. Why don't you take Relm to Jidoor? It's right that way if you go in that direction," Ultros said. Typhon's purring shifted into an audible burbling as it spun several times, circling above the beach.

"What the f-?!"

"FUNGAHHHHHHH!"

"A bat-thing? What bat-thing? Mr. Typhon, slow down. What are you talking about? What bat-thing?"

"FUNGAHH…!"

Ultros made a sound that Relm wasn't sure was swallowing, but it did look as if he went a shade paler.

"Mr. Typhon said he saw a creature that looked like a flying stingray with a skull for a face and bat-like wings," Ultros explained. Relm nearly dropped her bag.

"What did you say?"

"A creature of death, Typhon said."

"Shit…."

Relm slung the bag over her shoulder. "Grandpa told me stories about ancient magical creatures sealed away at the end of the War of the Magi. I liked hearing scary stories from our history, but after Grandpa told me the story of a creature called Deathgaze, I had nightmares that night. Did anything else appear? Were there Dragons?" she asked.

"FUNGAHH."

"He doesn't know," Ultros said.

Relm nodded. "I don't blame you for not knowing. But Grandpa did say this to me: If the War of the Magi ever were to be repeated, Deathgaze, Humbaba, and the Servants of Lord Kaiser would be freed from their seals to wreak havoc on the world, fighting for no side but their own. Grandpa said he regretted telling me the story about the Warring Triad and their power. If what you said about the flying creature is true, then they truly are set free once again."

"And here I thought fighting you humans made me king of all monster-kind. Now I want anything but. If it scares Mr. Typhon so much, I'll have to take you to Jidoor myself. You can go the long way around if you want to avoid Deathgaze, Mr. Typhon," said Ultros. Typhon exhaled another "Fungahh" before he launched himself in the opposite direction. "I'll go find you! Just give me a sign like a sneeze or something to let me know!"

"Ew," Relm whispered. A pungent smell wafted in the air near her, forcing her to spin around. "Oh shit! The fish is burning!"

She ate what was still edible before she scoured the ground for art supplies she was uncertain were still intact. Among the paintbrushes, the bristles had warped from too much water and salt damage, rendering them useless. The more she assessed, the less hopeful she was to recover any of her supplies. At least some of the soil had a mix of colors from her paints.

She latched the bag to secure it, ensuring that it was hung comfortably on her shoulder. She marched up to Ultros. "Alright Ulty, let's go."

"Now? But it's almost nightfall," he said.

"And? Why should that stop you?"

"You don't know what kind of scary stuff comes out at night nowadays," the octopus whined. "The magic's run rampant all over the world and monsters galore run amok everywhere. Land, sea, and even sky."

"Right now, the only thing scarier than those monsters is me if you don't take me in the next thirty seconds. Otherwise, I might have grilled octopus to replace the burnt fish."

Ultros shielded himself with all eight appendages, cowering away from Relm. "I'm not tasty, at all! I don't want to literally become seafood soup!"

"Then quit your whining and give me a boost on top of you, dumbass," Relm barked, kicking one of the tentacles a couple of times. "Tick tock, Ulty!"

"Okay! Okay!" Ultros yelled. Groaning, he wrapped one of his arms around Relm to lift her to the top of his head. She tried moving around, but there wasn't much surface to hold onto, much less get a good foothold. "Geez you're slippery."

"How's that my fault?! That's just how I am!" Ultros whined. Relm knocked on his head. "Whatever. Forward!"

Grumbling under his breath, Ultros crawled along the beach until he crossed into the ocean. From there, his movement increased, allowing for faster travel. Relm gazed across the water as the wind blew. From the distance, pieces of the Floating Continent floated eerily in the water, broken and soon-to-be-forgotten. There were also remnants of the Blackjack left floating on the surface, ranging from planks of wood to the balloon that was used to keep the ship flying in the air. She expected maybe someone from the ship to swim back and forth between land and wreckage, but the lifeless structure remained there as an eyesore.

Ultros sped along the ocean in the other direction, moving away from the masses. Relm surveyed the surroundings, hoping to find signs of land somewhere, but oceans were all there were as far as she could see. "Hey, where's Thamasa?" she asked.

"To your right," Ultros replied. Relm turned her head, but there was no sign of land to the right. She squinted her eyes, but no such landmass was close enough to be discerned.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"I'm positive. But it shouldn't surprise you that as I roamed around the sea during your brooding sessions, I saw a heckuva lot of changes to the landscape. The Warring Triad wrecked this planet something fierce, lemme tell ya."

"Yeah."

Relm didn't doubt those words for a second. Any signs of grass left intact had to be a blessing, much less a miracle. Trees in the area were decimated, left as a charred husk of its former beauty. The bodies of the slain Thamasans were eventually buried by Ultros, with some sent to the bottom of the ocean. Ocean, land, none of it mattered to Relm as they served as a makeshift graveyard for the deceased. No amount of magic could bring those back.

No amount of magic could bring this world back.

"How much longer?" she asked.

"No clue. We may need to find an island to camp for the night," Ultros told her.

"You're not tired already, are you?" she said. Ultros decelerated until he came to a halt. Floating in the still endless ocean, it looked like he was staring up at her, but those lopsided eyes could be looking anywhere.

"Already? I've been swimming for hours!" he whined.

"Well, I don't have a clock, okay? Just find us an island," she ordered, knocking twice on his head.

Grumbling again, Ultros muttered something under his breath. "You say something?"

"No," Ultros sighed.

"Then let's get going before I slip off your head."

Using a tentacle, Ultros moved it around until he stopped. "I can sense landmass in this direction. It might be an island."

"Might be…?"

He sped up again, forcing Relm to hold tight against anything she could grab on his head. There were folds she squeezed with her hands, but even those proved difficult due to a mild mucous membrane that felt slick to the touch. This is so gross!

The landmass was indeed an island, but too small for someone as large as Ultros to sit comfortably. Relm disembarked and sat against a fallen palm tree. There was another, but only half of it was still planted in the ground, the top half long gone. She paced around the island, studying the land to see whether there was some room Ultros could squeeze onto, but the octopus waved a tentacle. "I'll sleep underwater," he told her, diving into the ocean.

Before Relm could protest, she sighed, which quickly shifted into a yawn. She laid her bag on the sand and rested her head on top like a pillow. Sleep came within seconds.

The next morning she woke to an unfamiliar area, much larger than the island. "The hell…?" she whispered. She searched for her bag only to find it back on her shoulder. Gauging her surroundings, she stumbled upon a town in the distance. "Is that…?"

"Oh, you're awake!" came Ultros's voice as the octopus surfaced above the water. "You were still asleep so I carried you the rest of the way."

"You did? Then that means…," she said, glancing behind her. "Is that Jidoor?"

"I'm pretty sure, I think. I mean, it looks pretty rich-ish from here," Ultros said. Relm rubbed her eyes to get a better view. "Only one way to find out," she said.

"Aren't you going to thank me for taking you here?" Ultros cried. "I've done a lot for you."

"You've tried to kill my friends on several occasions, Ulty. And I seem to recall you initially refused to let me draw your portrait. I'd say me not killing you myself evens us out."

"But, but you," Ultros began but sighed heavily. "Okay! I'm sorry I tried to kill them!"

"That's better," Relm said, ensuring he saw a clear grin across her face. "You've done a lot to redeem yourself."

"I don't enjoy it, you know!" Ultros said, tentacles crossed. "Ungrateful little snot-nosed girly girl with a sailor's mouth…"

He continued to mumble as Relm stifled a giggle behind her hand. "I'm leaving. Do whatever you want over here. But you'll have to find some other way home!"

"I'll be fine. And Ulty?"

He stopped mid-way, spinning to face her. "Thank you."

Ultros dove into the water, out of her sight. Marching forward, she'd have to hope the idiot brought her to Jidoor.

Scorched earth.

Those two words were the best way for Relm to describe what she saw before her. It was no different than when she woke from her experience with the tsunami. The soil still had that freshly burnt scent to it, leading her to wrinkle her nose as she trekked towards the town ahead. A morbid thought crossed her mind. I'm tempted to start painting portraits of all the devastation around here.

She halted and slapped her forehead. "C'mon Relm, stop thinking like that. Get your ass to Jidoor."

As the town drew closer, the architecture astounded her. Not so much that it was beautiful in its aesthetic, but the fact that the apocalypse barely left a scratch on the buildings. What sort of magic was at work that was powerful enough to protect the town from the Warring Triad of all things?

She picked up the pace, briskly making her way to the open walkway. It was even more surprising to see the landscape unscathed from a better perspective now that she was at the entrance. "Only one way to find out if this is Jidoor or not."

She flagged the first citizen middling about. His face seemed friendly despite the destruction outside. "Excuse me…?"
"Ah, welcome young miss. This is Jidoor, the westernmost town on the world map! Or at least we still believe it is!" the young man chuckled. "Where did you travel from?"

His manner of dress seemed correct, as far as the class segregation went. She was told by returning villagers that there were upper and middle-class citizens who lived in segregated sections of the village, with the richest man of the town inhabiting the luxurious mansion at the far end on top of a majestic staircase. She was curious whether he resembled a tailor or a merchant. "I'm from, um, off continent. Are you a merchant, by any chance?" she asked.

"Sort of. I used to run the Chocobo stable until I was told to close it up. The birds were scared out of town when all that happened and none have returned since. Right now I'm working with the Item merchant up the stairs there. Are you here on an errand?"

Chocobos. I've seen pictures but never met a live one before. Would've been neat, though.

As she continued staring at the boarded stable, the former stable head was already on his way up the stairs. "Hey! Wait up!" Relm cried after him.

"Oh, hello again," the man said. Relm blinked. Weirdo.

"I heard there was an art supply store in this town. Do you know where I can find it?" she pleaded. The man paused before pointing to the northwest.

"You'll want the shop over there. Lots of artists have been stopping by a few days ago from Kohlingen and South Figaro. I even heard there was a sculptor all the way from Nikeah who's sort of stuck here with no way back. Been here a week before the disaster, could you believe that?"

"I suppose. I'll go check it out," she told him. She didn't want to mention how she had never heard of these other towns due to her sheltered life in Thamasa, but the fact there were other artists must mean she could have access to materials if they were willing to lend a few extras. It was worth a shot.

"Hello? Excuse me? Hey!" Relm called, waving her arms around. "Can someone lend me a canvas and some supplies? Anyone?"

Minutes went by without an answer. Eventually, a woman in her mid-twenties emerged from the shop. One look at her screamed virtuoso to Relm with the array of colors in her dress and shawl. Even her beret and tinted glasses made her jaw drop slightly.

She clapped her hands twice. "Artists! This young girl is asking you for something!" she barked at the group. Heads spun from their canvasses as if broken from a trance to eye Relm.

One of them scoffed loudly. "You? An artist? Please! Go bum some colored chalk from the shop if you want to draw kiddie pictures on the pavement if you want to draw."

Relm clutched her bag, raising it as if ready to slam it against this jackass. She stormed over to his current painting and gave him a disgusted look. "Seriously? You drew that?"

"Yes. I'm working on a piece reflecting the hills overlooking Zozo to the north. The sunlight casts a breathtaking aura over the horizon at just the right time and I've committed that to memory," the artist narrated. Relm narrowed her eyes. This man was asking for it.

"Looks more like you trained monkeys to throw their shit on a blank canvas," she told him bluntly. The man gawked back at her. The other artists burst into laughter.

"She's not wrong," said one of the women artists, pointing out areas on the painting. "If Owzer saw this, he'd throw up all over it."

"I'm trying!" the man shouted. Growling down at Relm, all she did was stick her tongue out and marched into the shop. "I dare you to draw a better version if you're going to be a smug little bitch!"

Relm hid her grin from the man who started arguing with the female artist. From their bickering, it sounded like they were siblings, one of which was clearly more talented. The shop owner shook her head as she went back behind the counter.

"Every day with this," she said, motioning to the quarreling siblings. "I tell him to get lost, but he won't leave until he insists Lord Owzer sees his work. I can't wait to see that trainwreck."

A shelf full of charcoal sticks drew her attention first. "Holy moly, look at the different sizes!" she exclaimed.

"I've no doubt you're an artist, judging by that bag," the woman said. Relm patted it. "You betcha."

"You are rather young for one, though. Most artists I've seen come by are no younger than eighteen or nineteen."

"Grandpa always thought I drew with the skill of an adult," Relm said. She had moved onto blank sketchbooks and pencils of differing shades and thicknesses. "I wish I could buy these," she sighed.

"You came here without money? You're braver than most. All the broke people we find are from Zozo," the woman said. Relm wanted to hide her embarrassment, but the woman knelt to be at eye level.

"I lost all my stuff when the end of the world happened. If I had a gil to spare, I'd get something here to rebuild my portfolio."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sweetie," the woman said. "What do you like to draw?"

"Anything, really. Nature, animals, the farmland outside my village. But I also love sketching imagery based on stories the adults would say at the bonfire. They were amazed I was able to capture the accuracy of what they were narrating. Grandpa, he-"

Relm swallowed, pausing. She took a deep breath. "You know what, it doesn't matter. I can't show anyone what I've done because they were water-damaged."

The woman nodded. Fetching a blank sketchbook and a set of pencils, she handed them to Relm. "Show me. I want to see what you can come up with."

"I couldn't do that! It wouldn't be right of me! If I could help out to earn some gil, I'll buy something then," Relm protested. The woman gently pressed the items into her hands. "It's on me. Please."

Relm fought back a sob. With a fierce nod, she searched for a place to sit. An open area on the floor looked ideal and she propped herself down, sitting with her knees pressed together. Once she laid the sketchbook on her lap, she opened it and chose a pencil to begin sketching.

She was back in her comfort zone again. The only thing breaking the silence in the store was the rapid scratching of pencil to paper as she worked her hand. She wasn't sure what reaction the woman was having, but it would only matter once she was done. As she sketched, she switched often to different pencils to add shading and line definition until she was positive she was done with her sketch. Facing it towards the woman, she looked up. "What do you think? That's my grandpa."

Relm didn't know why she thought of Strago first until it dawned on her that this was the longest they were separated. She never forgot a single detail of that man's face. Each wrinkle along his tired, yet eager eyes brimming with anticipation to study magical creatures, each strand of his snow-white mohawk and mustache framed the face of a gentle old soul full of life. It wasn't until she thought more of it that she found her vision had blurred from the tears she finally shed. Her hands were also shaking while holding the portrait.

"Aw, sweetie, what's wrong?" the woman asked.

"My grandpa," Relm said, wiping her face. "I don't know, if, if he survived. I don't want to lose him."

"I'm sure he did. I can't believe how realistic this looks," the woman said. "How old are you?"

"T-ten…," Relm said, sniffling. "Almost eleven."

"It's so rare to see a prodigy come by. Can you draw me something else? It might help cheer you up," the woman said, handing the sketchbook back to Relm.

Another deep breath allowed her to focus again. She had to believe Strago was still alive, as did everyone else. When she sees them again, it'll be as if nothing ever happened. She wanted to assure herself of that. She needed it more than anything.

The second picture she sketched was the woman herself. It had a profound effect based on how rosy the woman's cheeks became. "Can I keep this one?" she asked.

"Sure. Let me sign it first, though

Relm scribbled her name on the bottom right corner. Even her handwriting had impressed the woman. "What else can you show me?"

It was like a lock being sprung from a prison she found herself in, and this woman had the key the whole time. She continued sketching, letting her hand run wild along each page until she wore out some of the pencils. The woman replaced them quickly to watch her sketch until she had filled a couple dozen pages. The last one, ironically, was of Ultros. Stretching, she sighed. "I feel much better, now."

"I'll say!" the woman exclaimed. She flipped from page to page, awestruck. "Can you stay? This shop is also where I live. I'd love to see what you could do with a canvas. The auction would make a fortune with your artwork."

"Really?"

"Yes! You'll get a cut of the profits and that'll pay for all the materials you'd need. Please stay," the woman pleaded, taking Relm's pencil-soiled hands into hers.

The choice was quick as Relm nodded. "This is like a dream come true."

The woman offered her hand. "Christina," she said.

"Relm," Relm responded, taking Christina's hand. "Now that we're acquainted with each other, I feel I need to address the behemoth in the room."

"Oh?"

Relm motioned around her with a finger. "How is this town intact after all the crap that happened? The world got torn apart yet everything here still looks so pristine!"

Christina rose, brushing her dress down. "I honestly can't give you an answer for that. But the rich believe that Jidoor was under the protection of Golem and Zonaseeker."

"Those sound like Espers," Relm noted, rubbing her chin. "You're saying they used their magic to shield the town from the apocalypse?"

"Maybe…?"

"Whatever. We'll go with that theory. I only care that this shop's not wrecked and I can still pursue my art," she said. Christina's grin was welcoming, an assurance to Relm that she could share her gift with a fellow virtuoso.

Christina then led Relm around the store, showcasing other items for her artwork. Blank canvasses of varying sizes along with types of paints encased in tubes. Relm eyed them all with awe. "Look at all the colors! I've never seen these shades before!"

"What's your preference? Oil? Acrylic?"

"Oil, mostly. Though I wouldn't mind experimenting with all of these if I could," she said.

"Well," Christine said, lifting a small blank canvas, "I suppose we can start you off with this and see what you can come up with."

As Relm studied different shades of red and blue, Christina had set up a stool with an easel, placing the canvas before her. "Go ahead, when you're ready," she told her.

Relm laid her bag aside and propped herself on the stool. She eyed the blank slate carefully until she nodded. The theory of Golem and Zonaseeker was too good to pass up, so she started with a palette of greens and reds to work into the array of brushes sitting next to the easel. Christina resumed her work, fading into the background while Relm painted, focused completely on what she wanted to bring forth.

For a painting as small as this, it still took her several hours to complete it. Wiping her brow with the back of her wrist, she sighed happily. "Perfect."

"I'll say," Christina's voice propped up next to her ear. Relm glanced behind her. "As soon as you mentioned Golem and Zonaseeker, I couldn't stop thinking about Magicite. It took me a while to get the finer details, but I think we have a good start."

"I love the use of the lighting you've got going here and here," Christina noted, pointing to areas where the source of light had illuminated the magicite subtly enough to convey its ethereal qualities. Relm beamed.

"You must be tired. You can go ahead and draw yourself a bath upstairs while I set up a futon in my room," Christina said.

Relm blinked, spinning to face her. "You want me to stay here with you? I'm flattered you're offering a place to stay, but I thought you'd book a room at the inn or something."

"It's fine. I could use the company after what's happened," Christina said somberly. Relm noted the shift in tone and carefully placed the palette and brushes aside.

"So something did affect you here when the end of the world hit," Relm stated. Christina gazed out of the window.

"I had a sister about your age. We were on our way back from the Opera house when the quakes began. They were small but grew more frequent as the skies changed to a black I'd never seen before."

"She didn't survive?" Relm asked. Christina shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"There was a flash of light and a dome of energy that swelled, consuming everything in its path. I barely escaped its reach, but Lily wasn't so lucky."

Relm pursed her lips, glancing at her work. "Now I feel like shit for being so proud of this. I'm glad you've been able to stay composed while I'm here."

Christina shook her head with a small grin. "I've done enough crying for days, Relm. As much as I need to mourn, Lily would still want me to keep this store open. I think she'd have loved being friends with you."

"Geez, how many people died that day?" Relm asked nervously. She closed her eyes, unable to take that question back. But Christina merely shrugged her shoulders. "Too many. Or maybe enough to make us grateful we survived. Enough to motivate us to rebuild."

She thought about Thamasa. What was left of that village? Or worse, did anyone survive? Then it dawned on her. Interceptor stayed at Thamasa. So if he found me, then that must mean…!

"They survived," Relm whispered. "They must have survived!"

"Who?"

"My friends. I'm from Thamasa, born and raised," she said. Christina paused. "What?"

"Thamasa. I've seen people dressed like you stop by now and then. Sometimes they'd bring goods from their farmland, but I've often seen people shop here. Were they buying supplies for you?"

Relm shrugged. "Maybe. But maybe it was for Matilda, my art teacher. She taught me so much about painting, sketching, studying life, and magic. She even helped me develop my gift to bring paintings to life."

"Come again…?"

Relm motioned to the finished painting. "I have paintbrushes at home that were magically enchanted. I can use them to paint whatever I want out of thin air and bring that painting to life, albeit for a couple of seconds. But it helped my grandpa's studies of magical creatures near Mount Thamasa."

"You can use magic? I've only ever started hearing about those who can use magic when those two pieces of magicite appeared months ago," Christina said. "People went crazy expecting them to be sold at the auction that we waited anxiously to see who'd be the lucky buyer."

"My friend, Terra, bought them before we set off against the Empire when they raised that whole continent to the sky."

"Hold that thought while I close up," Christina said. The clock hung above the front door chimed several times, making Relm realize how much time had passed since she waltzed into this store. The artists out front had left, while the air around the town had this uncommon quiet to it.

A chill went up her spine. "Does it get cold at night?" she asked Christina.

"Normally, no. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just had this weird feeling from looking outside. I hope it's nothing."

Christina locked the door, flipping the open sign over. Closing the blinds, she lit a candle. "You're not entirely wrong, Relm. There has been a strange vibe going around Jidoor after the apocalypse. It's subtle, but since that day, fewer people have gone up to visit Owzer at his mansion unless they were personally invited. The man himself doesn't even come out anymore, instead sending his butler to shop for him."

"So the richest guy in town does make himself seen, does he?" Relm asked.

"He used to, often. He'd stop by the shop and ask about new artwork, or buy art at the auction house. He loves artwork and has no complaint about wasting his fortune."

Relm peered out the window where the grand staircase would lead her to Owzer's mansion. "Sounds like a swell guy."

Upon entering the bathroom, Christina exited, leaving the door open. "I left a change of clothes for you. Lily was about the same size as you so I figured they'd fit you as well. I hope you don't mind."

"Thank you."

"If you'd like, I know someone who works at the tailor's a couple doors down the street from here. He'll be able to make anything you'd like. If you want clothes that remind you of your home, he'll do it," Christina offered. Relm couldn't resist such an offer, given how long she spent imprisoned in these tattered rags. A place of haute couture like Jidoor would immediately frown upon seeing Relm dressed like a street urchin. It's enough to make that one weird kid from the Veldt look clean by comparison. "The bath's ready for you, by the way."

"Oh my god, you're a lifesaver. You have no idea how long I've needed a bath!" Relm said. It was an even bigger relief to know she'd be clean again.

The water was perfect. The right temperature to relax in. Fragrant bubbles briefly reflected some of the candlelight from a nearby shelf. Relm rested her head, blinking at the ceiling. "I hope you're safe, Grandpa. I'll see you soon, even if it takes a few years. Just survive somehow until then."

She didn't need Christina to convince her to stay. Her resolve had already been decided for her. This kind woman was providing shelter, a hot bath, and hopefully good food.

Good food indeed. That was what awaited her when she sat before a plate of fruit next to the futon set up on the floor. "I figured you'd be starving at this point."

"You have no idea," Relm said, snagging grapes. One by one she popped them in her mouth, not caring how the juices trickled down her chin. There was cheese, apples, a pear, and thin slices of meat with a single bread roll as big as her hand.

Christina chuckled. "You practically inhaled all that."

"Sorry, I was famished," Relm said, placing an apple core on the finished plate. With a towel still wrapped around her shoulders, she resumed drying her hair. Tugging at the pajamas Christina provided her, she noted some of the designs on it.

"Did she like Chocobos?" Relm asked.

"Let's just say she liked admiring them from a safe distance," Christina said. "I took her for a ride once when she was little, but she cried the whole time. Never went riding again."

"I've only ever seen Chocobos in picture books." Relm examined the design further on the top. "None ever migrated near Thamasa. I'd have loved to see one up close, but the stable's boarded up."

"They might not have survived by now," Christina said. She kept it short and blunt.

"I suppose we should turn in for the night," Relm said. The lull in conversation was a sure sign, yet as she rested her head on the pillow, she couldn't close her eyes.

Several minutes of silence went by, with only her eyes adjusting to the dim outside light pouring into the room from the street lamps. Even after Christina extinguished the candles, there were no signs Relm could distinguish of the woman having fallen asleep.

"Christina?"

"Yeah."

"Are you still awake?"

"Yeah."

"This is the first time since that day I haven't felt angry, even though I want to be," Relm explained.

"Why do you say that?"

"I dunno," Relm said. She stretched her hand as if wanting to touch the ceiling. Her eyes could distinguish the wood finish above, the closed window with a set of curtains hung over it, and her outstretched hand. "Maybe I want to be angry at the people who caused all this."

"Yeah." Pause. Then Christina breathed a sigh. "I want to pay back those who took Lily from me. But I start thinking I'm not the only one with a vendetta."

"I wish I had the kind of power to fight back against the Warring Triad and Kefka, but all I can do is paint. I was angry because I lost that which was the most precious to me. There were survivors, but it didn't matter to me."

"If I could trade every single thing in this shop to bring Lily back, I'd do it without a second thought," Christina said. Relm turned to face the bed to see that Christina had lain on her side to stare down at her.

"I guess I can't blame you," Relm said. "I thought being able to draw again today would help relieve that anger, but it still left me feeling empty."

She shifted to her side to face Christina. "Maybe it's because Grandpa's not here to see my new drawings."

"Would you give up your art if it meant you could see him again?" Christina asked. Relm paused. She hadn't considered that question before. Shifting again, she ran it through her mind. Shifting several times on the futon, it became more agonizing.

"I'm afraid to answer," Relm finally said. "I've never been separated from him this long before."

"It's okay. Maybe he's out there looking for you and will eventually come across this place," Christina said. It was a relief hearing that since Relm could sense a tightening of her chest. Agonizing over Strago on top of finding a comfortable position to sleep felt like a noose wrapped around her body, constricting her.

"I want to believe he's still alive," Relm said. Her lips curled into a grin. "That stubborn old bag of bones laughs in the face of death."

"I wish Lily had your enthusiasm," Christina said. Even with the lack of light, Relm could detect Christina's smile.

"Will you tell me more about your sister?" Relm asked.

"Oh. Um, sure?"

"I want to know what it's like to have a sister. I've only ever had my Grandpa to talk to, but he'd only share old hunting stories with his friend Gungho. I never had anyone I could talk to like this."

Christina's grin widened. Relm adjusted herself to get the best hearing as Christina began narrating. She drifted to sleep mid-way.

She expected Christina to still be in bed the next morning but found herself alone in the bedroom. She made her way down the stairs fighting the remnants of sleep still in her eyes and her mouth when she caught the scent of breakfast. Why does it smell like home?

"Good morning," Christina said. "You zonked out rather quickly last night, didn't you?"

"I didn't mean to fall asleep during your story. Sorry about that."

Relm exhaled another yawn, using the doorframe for support. The shop doubled as Christina's home, given that there was a fully furnished kitchen with a dining table for two. Beyond the kitchen was a door that led outside, located to the side of the shop to dry laundry. There was another door Relm had noticed to the right of the main shop's room but hadn't questioned Christina about it yet.

"You're probably reminded of your home with all this breakfast, aren't you?" Christina asked as she turned the sausages in the frying pan. She had already finished the eggs, bacon, diced potatoes with fried onions, and freshly squeezed orange juice. Relm opened her eyes even more to gander at how much of her home's food had made it to this table so far away.

"You must cook a lot for your sister, huh?" Relm asked.

"Someone had to take over the parenting duties. We lost our parents when Lily was still an infant. Ambushed by muggers from Zozo."

"Oh my god…!"

Christina waved her off. "You don't have to apologize or anything. I've made peace with that long ago. Up until recently, Lily was a huge source of strength for me to keep going. That and running this store. My mom was an artist, and my dad was a carpenter. He made furniture of all sorts and shipped them across the world. It didn't matter who bought from us, whether it was the Empire or Figaro. Someone was always interested in what my dad made."

She placed a plate full of deliciousness in front of Relm, pouring a glass of juice beside it. "I hope it's edible."

"It smells okay, at least," Relm said. She examined everything and then took a bite from one of the sausages. "It's good," she said, giving her a thumbs up.

"I'm not like Jidoor's finest chef or anything, but I haven't had any complaints from Lily whenever I cooked for her. So don't hesitate to say if my cooking's lousy or it sucks or anything."

Christina chuckled as she took her seat to eat. "You can finish your story about Lily. Since I'm more alert, now," Relm said mid-bite. She didn't have Strago around to tell her not to eat while talking at the same time. She wasn't sure whether or not Christina was strict with her sister until she got to know her a little more.

She did slow down the pace at which she ate so she could listen to each word Christina spoke of Lily. There was often talk of how Lily loved to model new clothes their mother made for them, giving her and Christina ample opportunities to paint Lily in a new dress or a school outfit for the academy down the road beneath the auction house.

"You have a school in Jidoor?"

"Had."

Relm arched an eyebrow.

"Not much of a school worth going to when the end of the world has everyone pre-occupied. It's not a huge school, mind you. One classroom, one teacher, and about a dozen kids. But the teacher does get paid handsomely by the rich folk up ahead. Our profits were what allowed Lily to get her education. I was homeschooled."

"Same," Relm said. "Grandpa provided a lot of reading material about the history of our people, magical creatures, how to use magic, how to conceal magic, how to blend in with the general crowd without giving away our dirty little secret. I hated keeping that from visitors."

Relm stabbed another sausage. "Anytime we saw a new face, Grandpa would scold me for daring to suggest I'd show them something cool, which he believed was a magic trick with my paintbrush. It's enough to make you go crazy."

"There won't be a shortage of crazy nowadays, that's for sure," Christina sighed, glancing out the window. Relm spotted a couple walking a small dog, the woman carrying an umbrella to shield them from sunlight. It was odd, to say the least, as she looked up to see the sky did not indicate sunlight spilling through.

"Do you have pictures of Lily?" Relm asked, getting back on topic.

"Of course!" Christina said excitedly. "When we're done, I'll take you to the studio where the magic happens."

Relm's eyes lit up.

"Metaphorically. Sorry."

"Oh."

Once they were done, Relm hurried upstairs to pick out one of the outfits the young sister had worn. It comprised of a pair of overalls and a yellow shirt. Even better, it had a head scarf that was much like Relm's. The old tattered clothes she came to town with were less appealing the more often she stared at them.

As she dressed, she could see there were pictures hung on the wall. One had an older couple she assumed were the parents, while another had separate pictures of Lily and Christina. One thing of note was the lack of a picture where the two were shown together. Either it was located somewhere else or there never was a picture to begin with. Lily was every bit a miniature version of Christina, only her smile had a hint of sadness to it. She wasn't sure when this picture was taken, but judging by Lily's age, it had to be after the parents died.

She located a pair of shoes that Lily wore that resembled hers, but was unsure regarding the size. "Tiny feet. Figures."

Having to settle for going barefoot, she hurried back downstairs to the one room she hadn't seen yet. Christina was standing by with a key in her hand.

"You're fortunate to have arrived when you did. We're closed on weekends so I have all the time in the world to work on something new in the studio," she said, unlocking the door.

The treasure trove of artwork blew any expectation out of Relm's mind the moment she laid eyes on the inside. Walls full of paintings, incompleted paintings stacked one behind the other on the floor, sculptures still being worked on, and one painting Relm noticed was a current project of Christina's front and center.

She took her time studying each completed work. There were painted scenes from areas across the world, from places she didn't know existed to places she could only imagine were created from the depths of Christina's creativity. "I can't believe how gorgeous these look," Relm said breathlessly.

"These over here," Christina began, pointing to one side with covered paintings, "are paintings I'm donating to be sold at the auction house. The auctioneer will be by this afternoon to pick them up."

She continued. "And these over here are works that I thought looked promising but couldn't for the life of me like it enough to finish."

"You're definitely an artist," Relm said. "I'd have shown you incompleted sketches if I hadn't lost them. I have tons at home, but who knows if there's a home still there?"

Christina pulled up a stool and a second easel for Relm. "Here. You can start on something you'd like. Everything you need's over there by the table."

Relm couldn't help glancing over her easel at Christina's current work. It depicted a family picking fruit from an orchard, with the father giving his young son a boost to reach a high branch. Christina busied herself adding differing tones of greens, yellows, and browns to the trees.

Relm's work by comparison was a memory of Strago and Gungho playing a strategy game on a wooden board at their dining table. Gungho slowly sucked at the tip of his pipe while Strago reached for a piece to be moved on the board. She intended to make the still frame as life-like as possible to impress Christina and showcase another aspect of her grandfather.

Once she was finished, she noticed Christina had left the studio. How long she was gone for, Relm couldn't determine. Only that Christina returned with a gentleman dressed in a tailored coat and bowler hat. He tipped his hat and bowed at Relm. "Good afternoon to you, young lady. Is this your donation, Christina?"

"Yes, and these as well," Christina replied, pointing to three hung paintings on the back wall. After the man Relm assumed was the auctioneer left with the set of four paintings carefully wrapped, she waited for Christina to have a look at her completed work.

"I can't see those going for any more than fifty thousand gil," Christina noted. Relm would've commented on how that was a huge amount, yet the somber look the woman gave off said anything but.

"That's not a lot?" Relm asked.

Christina shook her head. "The last few weeks haven't seen much interest in those styles. They don't sell for a lot. If I knew what piqued their interest, I'd be working on that instead."

"Why not ask around?" Relm suggested.

"Part of me is afraid of the answer," Christina said. The paintings Relm examined had a similar theme of simplicity and peace associated with them. They were casual reminders of happier times with an air of grace and serenity that could pre-date all those talks of the war she heard Thamasans speak of from passing travelers, not to mention the ugly history of their ancestors at war with Espers generations ago.

But what if that was a subject that would pique their interest?

Relm snagged an open sketchbook and began scribbling furiously on a blank page. "Something inspire you?" Christina asked, nodding at the sketchbook.

It was a rough sketch, considering how quickly she drew it. There was enough detail on it though when she showed it to Christina that her face lit up. "Is this a battle?"

"It's from my village's history. I come from a bloodline of Magic warriors who fought in the War of the Magi over a thousand years ago. Our village was founded by our ancestors who fought in that war. I remember the Mayor telling this one story to the kids about a great Magi knight who fought valiantly with his enchanted sword against an Esper, but none of them could remember its name. He did describe what the Esper looked like, as you see here."

Relm pointed out a pair of wings, a spiked tail, and three horns on the Esper's head. The Magi knight was in a position to thrust upward with his sword as the Esper lunged at him. "This one image the Mayor described stuck in my memory for a long time. I'd sketch something like this now and then. Sometimes I'd sketch just the Esper or the knight, but never the actual battle between them."

Christina traced her finger along the sketch. After a few seconds, she showed it back to Relm, tapping it. "You need to paint this."

"But I don't know what they really looked like though. The Mayor only had a vague description of the Esper's features, and the knight's armor was a guess of mine. I don't know whether he wore armor or whether he fought in the buff, or whatever. This'll take me a while."

Relm puzzled over her sketch until Christina's hands laid themselves on her shoulders. "You're good, Relm. You bring an awe-inspiring realism to anything you've drawn for me, and I believe you can do this justice."

"But I may make a ton of mistakes and waste your materials," she argued. Christina tilted her head up by the chin. "Whatever it takes to get it done, go for it. I believe in you."

"After only a day…?" Relm arched an eyebrow. Christina chuckled.

"Okay, I'll reel it back. I've seen enough of your work to know you can get this done."

Relm slapped the sketchbook with the back of her hand. "You bet your ass I'll get this done."

As the days rolled on, Relm worked each day to make this one rough sketch a reality on canvas. She needed a larger portrait to work on, pacing around the studio while examining her work. There were at least four discarded pieces she worked on and stopped a quarter of the way, annoyed it didn't produce the ideal aesthetic she aimed for. Not dark enough, she kept saying to herself after each attempt.

Days then bled into weeks, then months. All the while, Christina ran her shop as she did, provided Relm with all she needed, cooked and cleaned after her, and doted on her much as Strago had. Nearing completion of "A Magical Conflict" as she named it, she had been working on two other projects, one of which was on the largest created canvas that could still fit through a door, while the other was always kept under cover by a white sheet. Relm vehemently protected that painting from Christina's sight whenever she visited to check on her progress or to work on her own projects while the store was closed.

Christina's work gradually shifted away from uplifting themes to more grounded subjects. Her sculptures involved models who would pose for her, which was something Relm thought nothing much of but admired the finished work. They visited twice a month and were awkward at first having to pose in front of a girl Relm's age – not even Lily was permitted in the studio whenever models were inside – but after Relm had sketched them a couple of times, the models were comfortable enough that they often brought her small gifts of gratitude.

The sculptures were Christina's best-sellers at the auction, most often purchased by Owzer via his butler. She used the money to commission new clothes for Relm to preserve the Thamasan style she arrived in Jidoor with, as her way of being hospitable. It was a relief to wear a brand new version of the clothes she had worn so often, yet the materials were of such high quality, that she refused to believe they could be something related to home. Yet there she had stood in front of a mirror and saw those same yellow trousers, green shoes, black top, and flowery headscarf, just like the tailor back home made.

If she didn't seclude herself in the studio, she was either at the tailor's at Christina's request or enjoying lunch with Christina at the café down the street from the weapon shop. She was convinced the shops were only there for decoration, but Christina had alluded to several travelers visiting now and then who needed to defend themselves against the monsters roaming the world.

She also noted how eerily the townspeople behaved whenever a visitor approached the stairway to Owzer's mansion. After the moment passed, any question she'd have about it was met with silence. It was clear the mansion was off-limits, and she didn't want to explore the idea of what these townspeople would do to those visitors if they dared go further up the stairs.

She thought she might have seen a familiar face or two, but none of the significant ones she traveled with had shown up. Terra, Celes, and Locke weren't seen since she fell off the airship. What's worse was that Strago was not seen either. She tried to reach him via magic to sense his aura, but either it was unreachable, or the magic at work around the world negated any attempt to connect. All she could do was keep her hopes alive and continue her work.

It was nearing lunchtime when she emerged from the studio while Christina finished a transaction with a customer Relm knew as a frequent shopper. "Hey, Brad! Christina! I finished it!" she exclaimed. She bounded on her feet, beckoning Christina to follow her inside the studio.

"I'll be with you in a moment," Christina told her. After Brad, a young man likely five years older than Relm and not quite ready for adult clothing judging by his manner of dress, handed his gil to Christina before excusing himself. Relm enthusiastically greeted anyone who entered the shop when she was out of the studio for a break, but her manner of approach seemed to intimidate them more than make them feel welcomed. Brad was no exception, almost going pale each time she showed her face.

"If you get any more excited, you'll scare my customers into never coming back," Christina told her. Relm waved it off. "Brad needs to grow a spine and communicate more. Besides, I think he likes you."

Christina cleared her throat with a cough. "I don't date customers, you know that."

"Now while you're working, obviously," Relm said. "But I stand by what I said."

Christina shook her head. Relm took her wrist and pulled her into the studio. "Ta-da! 'A Magical Conflict' is completed!"

The rough sketch Relm drew morphed into the most impressive piece of work Christina laid her eyes on. She raised a cautious hand towards the canvas, not wanting to touch it. She then retracted her hand. "There has to be over four dozen colors at use here. Possibly more. Look at the way the lightning forks in the back from the sky. Look at the muscle definition on the Esper!" She gasped, pointing at the knight. "How did you accomplish this level of lighting? Look at the color blending of the white with the yellows."

Relm felt warmth bleed into her cheeks. Having such a high level of praise heaped on her for this degree of work was something she hadn't experienced often from the villagers back home. From a fellow artist, her work had gained another level of recognition.

"If you get in a second view, you can start to make out the other battles in the background. Ramuh and Ifrit are fending off a powerful magus. And just above that are the legendary servants of Kaiser, the mythical Dragon Lord."

Christina exited the studio. "Christina…?"

Before Relm could follow, the woman immediately returned with a frame for the canvas. "We need to get this to the auctioneer right away."

"Careful!" Relm said, standing between Christina and the painting. "Slow down first before we cause an accident. I'll take it to him. I want to be responsible for this painting from start to finish, or at least until someone buys it."

Fitting the painting in the frame for Christina involved a great deal of precision. She treated this like taking a scalpel to an injured Imperial soldier to remove shrapnel from an explosive device without aggravating what was already there. "Easy does it," she whispered.

Covering the framed painting with a sheet, Relm attempted to take it with her hands only to realize it was too wide for her arm's length. "Well, shit," she said.

Christina took Relm's hand, directing it to one end. "We'll take it there together. What do you say?"

"Well, it's my work and your materials, so I guess it's a team effort," Relm said. The height was manageable for both as they moved the painting out of the shop to the stairway which would lead them to the second level of the town, past the item shop, and into the vicinity of the Auction house.

The doorman casually opened the door for both to enter, where the Auctioneer stood mid-conversation with the presenters, a pair of costumed women with feather hats and coat-tails designed for show more than anything else. Relm hadn't been in this building before, and needed to watch her feet to avoid catching it against the chairs set up row-by-row until she reached the stage with a podium overlooking the auditorium.

"Welcome! Welcome!" said the Auctioneer after one of the models directed him to Relm and Christina. "Another fine painting donation for us, I see?"

"When you see what's under this sheet, you'll want to save this for the last item today," Christina told him. Leading Relm to the small set of stairs, they ascended to the stage to rest the covered painting on an empty easel.

"We've received quite the haul today, as a matter of fact," said the Auctioneer. "Seems paintings are all the rage today. Locals have been delivering these to us left and right. I was not expecting from your store until Friday."

"My friend here," Christina said, pointing him to Relm, "had just finished this work of art. It's the most detailed painting I've ever seen, frighteningly more detailed than anything I've ever made. Though I still have her beat on the sculpture department."

The adults shared a laugh. Relm rolled her eyes.

"Still, let us see this creation of the young lady, shall we?" The auctioneer and Christina carefully removed the sheet covering the painting. He paused, hand to his chin.

"What's he doing?" Relm asked.

"He's appraising the painting to estimate a starting bid. He does that with every item," Christina whispered back.

The lack of a reaction from the Auctioneer left a chill in Relm. She squeezed her hands, hoping they hadn't gone numb, swallowing several times while waiting for the Auctioneer to finish.

After what felt like the most painful five minutes, the Auctioneer made his way to the podium and dipped a quill in his ink bottle to write something down. "Do you have a name for this painting?" he asked.

"'A Magical Conflict,'" Relm told him. She hugged herself, tapping her foot.

"'A Magical Conflict,'" the Auctioneer repeated audibly as he wrote it. "Exhibit number four-three-six dash H. Done."

He snapped his fingers twice, directing the pair of women to cover the painting with the sheet again, carrying it behind the curtain. The Auctioneer shook Christina's hand before bowing to Relm. "Today's Auction will commence at four today. You are welcome to attend at your leisure," he told them.

"Thank you. We'll return before the action begins," Christina said.

"Hey, wait, aren't we going to know how much…-?" Relm began before she found herself nudged back down the stairs by Christina. Once they were outside, Relm threw her hands up. "What the hell was that?!"

"Relax, it'll be fine. No one is supposed to know what they're valued at until the initial bid is announced. I know you've never been to one of these before, but it's a necessary process to discourage fake bidders from legitimate ones," Christina explained.

"Could've told me that from the start," Relm said.

Later that day, Relm sneered at her reflection. She was told to wear a fashionable dress if she was to attend the auction, to avoid disparaging comments from the attendees. "Well, I suppose this can be a one-time thing," she said. She played with the threads of the frilly yellow dress, tapping her black shoes on the floor. She didn't like how tight the white leggings felt underneath the dress, but Christina insisted it was ideal for the dress in terms of etiquette. She did admire the gloves she was given, along with the ribbon tied to her hair. "The ribbon's okay, I guess."

"Oh my god, you look so cute!" Christina said after she knocked and entered the bedroom.

"I hate this," Relm said but stopped once she saw the gothic look on Christina's outfit. "Holy moly-!"

"It's my auction-house outfit," Christina said, spinning around to showcase the charcoal-colored dress that reached her ankles concealed beneath stiletto heels. Relm had to get a good look at the dress with a corset above the waist, along with a black hat that veiled her face, and arm-length black silk gloves.

"You look amazing! How come you never told me you had that for a dress?" Relm asked. Christina giggled.

"Lily begged me to make one for her but I insisted she grew up first before trying to copy me. Thank you for the compliment, though."

Relm scoffed. "You can't stop me from having a dress like that someday. I should march to the tailor's after this and get him to make one for me just like yours."

Christina grinned. She then poked Relm on her nose. "You're not developed yet for a corset, sweetie."

"I never said I wanted a corset!" Relm shouted after Christina as the woman left the bedroom. Scoffing loudly, she stormed out, mouthing to herself. "Developed my ass. I'll show you developed in three years when they'll be bigger than yours."

Once out the door, Relm was handed an umbrella. "The hell is this? It's not raining."

It was odd that little to no rain ever reached Jidoor. The storm clouds above have been eerily hovering above Zozo up north in a fixed pattern, yet they never once migrated elsewhere. She knew this had to be an effect of all the weird magic that ran rampant across the world once the Warring Triad were awakened. Or could it have been Kefka's doing?

"Look around you," Christina said, opening her umbrella. "It's customary for a lady of repute to carry herself in a dignified manner when attending a social event. You may not expect anything of this sort elsewhere, but we do still have traditions that need to be respected, apocalypse or not."

"Whatever. Let's just get this over with," Relm said, opening her umbrella.

She followed the procession along the stairs to the auction house where the doorman had the door held open. Each auctioneer who elected to participate greeted the host and was given a paddle with a number assigned to it. Relm and Christina took seats in the back row, laying their umbrellas across their laps.

Among the attendees was a man with a well-tailored suit and coat-tails. Christina nudged Relm. "That's Owzer's butler."

"Him? Does he ever come out of the mansion? He looks paler than a ghost," Relm noted.

"It's not too far from the truth, sadly. He rarely interacts with anyone, only to run Owzer's errands and buy artwork here. Maybe he'll buy your painting?" Christina suggested. Relm eyed the nervous wreck of a butler with uncertainty.

"That guy's hands are so fidgety he'd drop the painting as soon as he was out of the building," Relm said. Christina shushed her with a finger to her mouth. There was also something about the way he looked around the room until his eyes met hers that Relm turned her head immediately. "He's seriously creeping me out right now."

"You don't have to talk to him," Christina whispered. "But please be polite while you're in here. We don't want to damage your reputation once they see the painting you made and connect that to what they'd call 'an uncultured brat.'"

"They can call me whatever they want. It's not stopping me from painting," Relm said. She gave nearby attendees a dirty look as though they overheard her.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Esteemed art aficionados! I hereby welcome you to another splendid day for an auction in our beloved town of Jidoor! We will commence today's auction with our first item, exhibit number four-two-two dash A," the announcer called as he slammed his gavel on the podium.

The artwork in question was an aquarium from a close-up perspective. It was on a smaller canvas, about a third of the size of what she had donated earlier in the day. As the Auctioneer rattled off numbers, she witnessed how the procedure went until the gavel slammed the podium again. "Sold, for two-thousand and forty gil! Let us proceed to exhibit number four-two-two dash B," the auctioneer shouted.

One obvious thing Relm realized from the whole process was how incredibly dull the experience was for her. The repetitiveness of the gavel slamming the podium to the numbers being shouted one after the other in increments with paddles raised until she heard the line "Are there any more bids! Come now, don't be shy!" as his verbal cue he was ready to declare the item sold to the last placed bid.

She was nudged on the side several times by Christina. She realized she had rested her head on the woman's arm, the boredom of the whole process making her eyelids heavier and heavier. The slam of the gavel woke her fully. "Sold to our esteemed Lord Owzer's attendant!" the auctioneer shouted.

"That's five paintings now sold to Owzer," Christina noted. "Only three left until we get to yours."

"Can't we just skip to mine? I can't stand another second of twenty-thousand this, and fifty-five thousand that. Fucking numbers are driving me batshit." She drew hard looks from the attendees in front. "Eyes front, people. It's not the first time you've heard a kid swear."

"Relm…."

Christina was ready to pull her veil tightly to conceal the redness on her face. Relm raised her umbrella, shoving it forward in a stabbing motion to direct the rows in front to turn back around. "God, I hope I never do this again."

"Sold!"

Another item was presented and sold, leaving two paintings left. The one that appeared before hers was something she recognized Christina had painted by the brushwork she knew was unique to her. "Hey, how come I never saw that one in the studio?" she asked.

"That's because I worked on it while you took your breaks," Christina told her. Relm couldn't help but chuckle. "Clever."

As she examined it further, her mouth dropped. "Wait. That's me." She turned to Christina. "You painted me?"

"Yes. One night, there was a clear break in the sky that allowed moonlight to shine into the window. You had the look of a little angel sleeping so peacefully. It was so adorable I had to paint it. That's why I wanted to take you here, even if you hadn't finished your work yet."

There was a subtle hint of grief behind those words, Relm realized. The futon she had been sleeping on was always Lily's, and Christina had always placed it by the window to catch the light of night and day. It pained her to think that this painting could've shown Christina's sister sleeping peacefully under the moonlight instead of her. The whole sensation left a vice grip on her chest and heart.

She rose from her seat. "Relm?"

"I have to go."

"But your painting…?"

"I'm sorry. I can't stay. Just tell me later how much it sold for."

Relm walked briskly to the door and shoved it open. She reached the top of the staircase and found herself nearly hyperventilating, using the railing to hold herself up.

A moment later, Christina emerged from the auction house. "Relm!"

Relm fell to one knee, hands still gripped to the railing. It was like the whole town was spinning. "Relm! Are you okay?!"

"Can everyone please shut the hell up…," Relm hissed through her breath.

"Relm, talk to me," Christina said, patting her on the back. She eased her back to her feet. "I've got you."

"Sorry about that," Relm said.

"If I did something to offend you with that painting, I'm truly sorry," Christina said. Her voice was on the cusp of breaking. "You are a great inspiration for me to continue my work, Relm. I mean that."

Relm slowed her breathing, regaining her composure. She spun to face Christina. "I mean this with all sincerity how much I appreciate everything you've done for me since I got here. But please don't let me become a replacement for your sister. I don't want that burden, ever. Don't ever think any less of Lily just because I'm around her age."

Christina's hand retracted. "How can you say that…?" Her voice was edging closer to breaking completely. "That was never my intention! I've invited you to stay with me because it was the right thing to do!"

"Then why does it feel like you're looking after me the same way? Sometimes when I see you looking at me, I swear it feels like you're looking at her instead. And I got scared thinking you're only looking at me with a big sister's eyes instead of a host's."

Christina raised a hand, shaking her head at first, then nodding. There was a moment when Christina paced in front of her before taking a deep breath. "Sorry. You're right. You're more fearless than Lily was, but there's still a lot in common between you two that I realized over the last few months. The night that inspired me to create that painting was the one time I thought I saw Lily sleeping on that futon by the window instead of you. It scared me too."

"Your hands are shaking," Relm said. She glanced back at the shop. "I'm not sure if I want to show this to you now or wait until I've finished it."

She hesitated on waiting for an answer and instead took Christina's hand. She led her down the stairs to the shop. Several hours had passed since they went to the auction house as evidenced by the lights from the street lamps.

Relm then led Christina to the studio. After lighting enough candles, Relm presented one of the paintings she had covered with a sheet. "It's nearly complete. I still have much of the bottom to work on, but you'll get the idea when I show this to you," she told her. Her hand froze as she grabbed the cloth.

"We'll do it together. How about that?" Christina offered. Relm closed her eyes and let Christina's hand guide her into removing the cloth. Once it hit the floor, she turned to face the woman.

Christina's reaction was immediate. Covering her mouth, she shut her eyes tightly. Painted on the canvas were Christina and Lily, the younger sister presenting a flower of her namesake to the older sister.

"I remember you saying that this was the happiest you had ever seen Lily," Relm explained amidst the sobs Christina fought hard against. "All those happy moments you two have ever shared should be all over this shop. I want to do everything I can to capture this moment forever so that you'll never have to feel alone ever again."

Seconds later, Relm was pulled into a tight embrace, wrapped in Christina's arms. She accepted the gesture, gently placing her arms around the older woman. She didn't know how long Christina held her, but could only vaguely hear her whisper "Thank you."

Christina was the first to sleep, clutching the unfinished painting against her chest. Relm knew better not to dare take it away to finish it. She'd leave that up to her. For now, she was relieved that there was no animosity between them. She couldn't live with herself if she had.

The next morning the Auctioneer paid a visit. Relm was the one who answered the door when it knocked. "She's still asleep," she told him.

"I wished to speak with you, actually," said the auctioneer.

"To me?"

"Of course. It was unfortunate that you did not stay to witness the bidding war over your painting, but it sold for six hundred and fifty thousand gil to Lord Owzer care of his butler," the auctioneer stated.

"Get the fuck out!" Relm exclaimed. She nearly lost her grip on the door handle as if someone smeared grease all over it. "Six hundred and fifty thousand?!"

"My, that is quite the vocabulary for one as young as yourself, lady Relm," the auctioneer said sheepishly. "I can see you are pleased with the results?"

"Six. Hundred. Fifty. Thousand," Relm repeated. "Six hundred and fifty thousand. I need to sit."

She retreated to the kitchen and awkwardly found her way to the dining table. "I've never seen that much money before."

"I am certain Lord Owzer will be most pleased with his newest acquisitions, my lady Relm. I look forward to future donations. We will deliver the funds to you at this location this afternoon. Enjoy your day," the auctioneer said with a bow.

"I heard yelling," Christina said groggily, belting a yawn. "What's going on?"

"Christina! My painting sold for a shitload of money!" Relm cried. She hopped from her chair. "Six hundred and fifty thousand!"

"What?!"

"SIX HUNDRED AND FIFTY THOUSAND!"

Christina still had the incomplete painting in her hands. After laying it gently on the table as if it were the most fragile object in the world, she stood before Relm. "Six hundred-"

"-and fifty thousand!"

Christina took her hands and screamed. Relm joined in as the two bounced on their feet, dancing around the kitchen. "What do we do with all that money?" Relm asked.

"I don't know!"

"Split it in half?"

"Maybe!"

"Spend it?"

"On what?"

"I don't know!"

Relm was back in her seat, covering her face. "Who would've thought the end of the world would make me stinking rich?!" she belted. "I should-"

She stopped herself. "I should think this over carefully. I can't hog all the credit for this. You helped me a great deal with this painting. Call me crazy, but I'm starting to think maybe you should have the money."

"What? No! It's your painting. I earn plenty with my sculptures. We're both raking in a lot of gil with our work," Christina said, taking the other seat. "But we should think this through. Six-fifty isn't something one can overlook. There has to be something we can put it toward. Maybe we can help the villages destroyed rebuild themselves from the apocalypse?"

Relm froze. Not out of realization over thinking greedily about being given a lot of gil, but over the fact that she had stayed in Jidoor for so long she almost forgot that other villages and cities across the world would not have been able to survive intact. She then lifted the incomplete painting and her lips curled up.

"You're definitely right about your idea. We need to rebuild the world. That madman up there can knock us down, but we'll rebuild anything he takes out. Whenever I see my friends again, we'll take that son of a bitch out."

Christina matched Relm's smile. "Six-fifty is a lot, but to rebuild the world? It's going to take a lot more. And it could be years before we ever see the world as it was before the apocalypse. You're confident your friends are alive?"

"Always have been," Relm boasted. Regardless of whether they all survived, or two-thirds survived, as long as Strago was among them, she'd have the motivation to fight back when the time was right. Even if she had to wait another year or five years or even maybe when she reached Christina's age, she would never give up.

She then chuckled. "I doubt we want to run the shop in our nightwear," she said to Christina, pointing out the window. "We're about to open in a few minutes."

Christina covered herself out of instinct. Grabbing the painting, she rushed back up to her room. "You sure you won't let me finish that painting first?" Relm asked.

"It's fine as it is!" Christina yelled back. Relm laughed.

Her next major project was nearly finished as well. Though she spent most of her work on "A Magical Conflict," it was the other two paintings she dedicated a small percentage to to ensure that they would be completed soon. Now that she knew Christina valued Relm's expression of sisterly love between her and Lily, Relm need not worry about that one. Her eyes were on this bigger prize that she was confident now would fetch an even bigger price at the auction.

Two months passed in the blink of an eye for Relm. Working countless hours from dawn to dusk, even into the late night, she ensured this would be done. She even accepted commission work from the auctioneer on behalf of several townspeople for special paintings they wanted to see sold at the auction. Paintings depicting war, attrition, pain, misery, and God only knows what other depressing imagery she had to paint were all done at the request of a strange old man who visited Jidoor. A strange old man who once lived in Kohlingen who headlined the construction and operation of a battle coliseum that drew fighters across the world. He even boasted about having monsters under his employment. I bet ya anything Ulty's working there as a receptionist or a janitor.

He was described as a war-savant. A man dedicated to preserving chaos and destruction, finding the beauty in the misery of the world after the Apocalypse. Relm thought this man was crazy until she heard him say that people thrive better on war. If it meant that much to him, she painted those images to his every specification. If it filled the coffers of Relm's goal to rebuild the world, it was an unusual sacrifice to make. The man even sang his praises to Kefka of all people!

There were days where Relm worked herself to exhaustion, often finding herself waking up in Christina's arms as she was being carried up the stairs to the bedroom. Christina didn't mind laying her in the larger bed, as long as Relm was able to sleep comfortably. As the older woman covered her with a blanket, Relm let out a lengthy yawn. "Just a few more touches and I'll be done," she whispered.

Christina sat on the side of the bed, brushing Relm's hair out of her face. "You don't need to work yourself ragged like this. Take a break."

"I can't, not while I'm so close," Relm protested.

Christina shook her head. "It'll still be there. Maybe you'll catch something you missed and will have a clear perspective on it."

"But-"

"Relm. Take a few days off. Catch up on sleep, work on something else, and then go back to it," Christina said. Relm groaned.

"There's that big sister voice coming out again. I hate it when you do that," she said. She felt Christina's hand pressed against her cheek.

"Sweetie, you've become my second sister, whether you like it or not. I can't replace Lily, but I can accept that I am still able to take care of someone."

"But I-"

"No buts, Relm. You're my little sister, and I love you. Now go to sleep."

Relm's cheeks flared. The only family she ever knew was in Thamasa. She had a grandfather, but that was about it. She only knew her mother from an old picture, while nothing was ever known about her father. She never knew what having a brother or sister felt like, nor did she consider the kids she played with as siblings. Having someone care for her the way Christina did made her accept the inevitable conclusion that she wanted to care for her as much as she cared for Lily. She would have to accept a sister no matter what.

"Is it okay, then, if I call you sis?" Relm asked.

Christina froze for a few seconds. She then leaned forward and placed a kiss on Relm's forehead. "Of course. Good night, sis."

"Good night, sis," Relm whispered, closing her eyes.

She realized when she woke up how exhausted she made herself working on that large painting in the studio. The fatigue was gone and the grogginess was non-existent. How long did I sleep for?

When she dressed and went downstairs, the shop was busy with several customers. "Eh?!"

"Good afternoon, sis!" Christina shouted. Her face was beaming as she attended to the patrons but did not have a single look of stress about her.

Relm wondered why Christina said it was the afternoon. Now she had to know how long she slept in that bed.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"I don't know. I didn't check. I let you sleep as long as you needed it," Christina said, thanking the patron after he handed her a small bag of gil. Relm needed a moment to process everything.

"You wouldn't believe the amount of people waiting outside the door when I opened," Christina said. "Hi, be with you shortly!"

Relm kept her distance from the customers showering Christina with questions. Questions about what's on sale, how good the quality was, and whether more will be in stock. It was as if they never knew there was an apocalypse in the first place.

"Uh? Let me give you a hand!" Relm offered. She didn't want her sister to handle all of this alone. Considering how much time she spent in the shop while living with Christina, she had gained hands-on knowledge and experience with the materials sold. She delegated patrons towards her and answered their questions while recommending some of the colors she loved using the most with her paintings. They didn't seem to recognize her as the artist who painted the 650,000 gil masterpiece the other day, but she did gain some notoriety by the end once Christina locked the shop's door. Leaning against the wall, she slid down to sit on the floor.

"What the hell happened today?" Relm asked.

"Word got around that the painting we sold came from this shop and not some random traveler," Christina said. She sounded deflated, that was for sure. Relm perched herself beside her. "Guess we're super popular now, huh sis?"

Christina tugged Relm to rest her head on her shoulder. "Thank you for helping me out, even though you didn't need to."

"Did Lily help you out, too?" Relm asked.

"Nah, there wasn't much of a need. We never had this much business, ever."

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to overburden you if it meant we would need to hire extra help," Relm said. She lifted her head to glance at Christina and noticed she was nodding off. "Looks like it's your turn to march up to bed."

"Maybe I'll just, um, sleep here," Christina whispered. She lowered herself so much her head rested on Relm's lap without a chance for her to protest. "H-hey…."

Relm nudged her several times. "I'm not your pillow, sis. Get off."

"Shh, big sis is sleepy," Christina muttered, curling up closer.

"Dammit," Relm whispered. She eased the woman's head off her lap and retrieved a decorative cushion Christina kept in the kitchen. From the studio, she returned with an unused sheet to cover her sister with so she could stay there and sleep it off. "Well, then."

Once she was back in the studio, Relm uncovered her large painting. She stayed back several steps to study it and pointed out several areas she realized she needed to touch up. The painting depicted the Warring Triad themselves in a state of conflict, with the Goddess immersed against the Demon as if attempting to soothe his rage, while he used his lance to parry an attack from the Fiend's massive claw-like appendages, flaring its imposing aura. She had seen old paintings her ancestors created in reverence to the Triad long ago during the first War of the Magi as they fought the Esper invasion. Each was made in a unique style that revered their ancient qualities and god-like ferocity, while that of the Goddess who worked tirelessly to subdue the other two had a vision of nurture, sadness, and hope each time she gazed upon the others. Relm read up on them often, first at the behest of Strago to help her learn Magi history, but more often it became an interest to learn all their features and expressions to conjure a painting of their likeness even they would be impressed by if they ever saw it.

Studying the anguish on the Goddess's face as she was torn between her love for the Fiend and the Demon, Relm understood why they made a pact to restore balance to the world by petrifying themselves in synchronous harmony to preserve their power and to release the bonds that chained the world and its inhabitants. Relm didn't want to exercise the notion of how enraged they must feel over being stirred from their eternal rest. Strangely, she sympathized with their fate.

As she lifted a palette to reapply the paints she selected to use, she laid it back down. "Maybe I need more time away from this."

She re-covered the painting with a sheet and placed a small blank canvas on an empty easel. She reached for one of the clear, freshly washed palettes and examined the blank canvas. "Something else to pass the time," she whispered. She contemplated several ideas related to war and conflict, even going as far as to think about what the Empire once looked like – though she hadn't once set foot in Vector.

Her only experience with the Empire before the apocalypse was the attack set forth by Kefka and those giant walking machines piloted by soldiers. The memory of the ground being struck by a laser that sent her and Strago flying to when she was shielded by her grandfather while the Espers attacked was like venturing into the core of a volcano after escaping a frigid tempest. And the laugh that accompanied all of it.

Something compelled her to paint that imagery, mostly of the death machine that attacked Thamasa. The imagery of anger and insanity, the image of monsters preying on the defenseless with the laughter of a madman buzzing in the background.

She needed the right colors, colors to represent the chaos. Reds, Violets, Oranges, Yellows, things she could think of that were angry colors mixed with just the amount of madness that bordered on megalomania. These people of Jidoor would see images they've never laid eyes on before as a reminder of what the world had endured, and what it had become now due to their negligence. It agonized her to paint out of her comfort zone, but the work she produced of the War of the Magi and that of the Warring Triad necessitated discomfort as a motivator to continue.

She attacked the canvas with her brush once she mixed her colors. Rapid, precise strokes sculpted the image of the Magitek Armor, and the shapeless pilot that had no form, no humanity. It was a husk that was blended into the machine, giving it the monstrous appearance it deserved.

She took no liberty with this painting, nor did she limit her discomfort with subsequent paintings. One of them was of the fallen soldier, Leo. She remembered a stoic figure with a reputation that preceded him, and how much reverence Terra had for him whenever she spoke with him. She also remembered a flash from powerful magical incantations cast by Kefka while she watched through Strago's arms. The old man was still functional enough to keep her out of harm's way yet she would watch on regardless. She witnessed his murder, done without semblance of combat, betraying his ethics as a soldier. It was conveyed as a painting of Leo caught in a vice-grip by a snake that bore Kefka's face, smile, and maniacal laughter. She had tackled that painting with as much aggression as the first.

She then slammed the palette against the wall, belting out a scream. It was never supposed to be this way. A ten-year-old girl should never have to see death so liberally.

Friendly creatures snuffed out of the sky.

A great man, murdered in cold blood.

The end of the world.

"I HATE HIM!"

There was a knock on the studio door. "Sis?"

"Go away!"

"You know I can't do that," Christina's voice spoke through the door. She didn't sound concerned as far as Relm could tell, but it did sound stubborn.

"I'm not in the mood right now!"

"Well, I'm coming in, anyway," Christina replied. The door opened with Christina approaching Relm, the unused sheet draped over her arm. "I'm certain you woke up half of Jidoor by now."

Christina then laid the sheet on a blank space along the countertop. She paused at the two fresh paintings until she noticed the discarded palette, splattering its colors along the floor. "Seems I missed out on some inspiration, I take it?"

Relm didn't want to look her sister in the eye. She brushed past her to the bathroom so she could wash her hands and face. She then started drawing a bath for herself.

It was only a few minutes later that she sensed Christina hovering over her by the door. "Talk to me, sis."

"It's nothing. Just a few painful memories I had to contend with. But hey, all to give these rich folks a taste of my artwork, right?" Relm said with venomous sarcasm.

"They have a lot of passion behind them, though. I'm sure it wasn't easy for you to go through." Christina tested the water and adjusted the temperature. "You'll burn yourself if you bathe in that."

"Maybe I want to scald myself. Maybe I want to scald that asshole's face, too," Relm said, which sounded amusing to Christina.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Whenever you're ready, you can-"

Relm gripped the side of the bath. She turned off the faucet. "I can still remember the ringing in my ears from the initial impact of their weapons after they fired. I couldn't react. I saw Celes and Locke launched into the air before I realized Grandpa and I were in the air, too. Grandpa crawled to me and covered me. He kept whispering to keep my head low, to shut out the noises. He said not to look at what's going on.

"But I kept looking because I wanted to. I saw what happened to General Leo. He didn't deserve that. He died, and that asshole laughed. If I had the magic, I'd have saved him. I know I could've. I would've helped Terra, Celes, Locke, and everyone in Thamasa. I was helpless, and I hated it. But not as much as I hated the Empire. We could've ended centuries of strife between us Magi and the Espers, but he took it from us. Now I don't know if the Espers could ever forgive us."

"It wasn't your fault, sis. You didn't know what was going to happen. I don't think anyone could've," Christina assured her.

"But they did know! They were set up by the Empire and used us as bait to kill the Espers! Nothing's changed over a thousand years because they always used us Magi to do their dirty work. That has always been our legacy."

"You're speaking from a position of anger, Relm. You can't think rationally when you do," Christina said. Relm turned the faucet back on.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm more rational than grown-ups," she said.

Christina breathed a chuckle. "Maybe."

Relm then noticed Christina's arms wrapped around her. "One thing I've learned growing up is that we tend to be at our most expressive when we're angry. Something like dropping the barrier that separates our normal self from our true self. There are things we need to keep buried because of how much pain it could inflict, either on us or on someone else. Children don't have a strong enough barrier to keep those emotions properly buried and can let it out at the wrong time."

Relm wanted to fight her off but realized much of her tension had melted away. Her head was nuzzled next to her sister's heart as she continued. "I was angry a lot after we lost our parents. It was hard managing the shop by myself at first, and I only realized after I lost my temper on Lily that I couldn't do that to myself. It wasn't easy at first, but I eventually cast away much of my anger for a bright smile that I'd show everyone, every day. Especially when it concerned Lily that I would never let her see her big sister angry ever again. Now I think the opposite should be the case."

"My bath's gonna get cold if I don't go in soon," Relm said. Christina hugged her tightly, kissing her on the top of her head. "I know," Christina told her.

Relm noticed seconds later that Christina wasn't leaving the room, but rather undressing. "Um…?"

"You've never had a family bath, before?"

"Well," Relm said, glancing away. "Only when I was very little. It'll be too weird at my age, now."

"I'm sore from that busy day and it's late. I'm not wasting this water for just one person," Christina assured her. "I guess not," Relm muttered.

Relief finally washed over her once she completed the painting of the Warring Triad two days later. That break Christina recommended was the right thing to do after all, despite Relm's assurance she would've completed it on that day. She covered the two "angry" paintings from earlier with a sheet to help her focus on the task, but she knew those extras would be donated to the auction soon, provided there was a large enough frame to fit this grandiose piece.

"Careful, careful," Relm said as she and Christina meticulously slid the painting through the door frame, angling it enough to provide extra room.

"I'm being as careful as I can, sis," Christina responded from the other end. Once they were cleared of the first door, there was a matter of circumventing the display shelves in the shop before they reached the front door. The main counter was the only obstacle that made clearing the painting from the shop difficult. "So how do we tackle this?" Relm asked.

"We'll need help."

"I'll say. If we can move the counter, we'll have a clear line to the outside without bending the painting," Relm said. She pushed against the counter, but it had a great deal of resistance. "I wish that studio had a back door or something."

"Don't worry," Christina said. "The counter's easy to move. How else did we get this large canvas in there in the first place?"

Relm blinked a few times. "Shit, you're right," she laughed.

Christina flagged a few passersby to help move the counter out of the way enough for them to move the painting out of the shop. It was angled in such a way that no one could get a good enough view of the painting as a whole, which was then covered with a pair of sheets. "Can someone help us get this up the stairs?" she asked.

The auctioneer was flabbergasted once the painting was revealed to him. Even he couldn't contain his excitement. "Is this for real?" he asked.

"As real as the end of the world outside of Jidoor, Mister Auctioneer," Relm said. "A kid shouldn't have to sacrifice so much sleep, but I finished it."

"What remarkable brushwork and shading. So many vibrant colors! Did you really paint this?" he wondered. He whispered something to the gentleman who aided in bringing the painting inside and the gentleman exited the house.

The Auctioneer paraded around the painting. "I can't see anyone but Lord Owzer himself buying this. I can't let this go for less than seven hundred and fifty thousand as an opening bid. I could easily see this climb up to three million, maybe more."

It was like a weight was added to Relm's legs, pulling her down until they disappeared to leave them hollow. Christina needed to hold her up. "Are you sure it'll go that high?"

"Demand for these are higher than you could possibly imagine, Christina," he said. He pointed to the images of the Warring Triad. "The aesthetics of art change over time. They ebb and flow like ocean waves. One minute it's peace, the next war. As long as the world is in a state of chaos, artwork such as this attracts the most attention."

"But why would artwork like this be more enticing? Wouldn't you want something to help you escape the reality of what's out there?" Relm asked.

"It's all about the passion one brings to these, lady Relm," said the auctioneer. He shifted to grandstand before the painting. "Jidoor is home to what one finds most beautiful. And this piece is the most beautiful I have ever laid eyes on. This image of beauty will be revered by all who gaze upon it. Even if it's a fraction of time to study this, such a moment can only happen once in your life."

The gentleman returned with the town's tailor. "You requested me, sir?"

"Yes. Please measure the length and height of this beautiful painting so we can construct a worthy frame to encase it," the auctioneer instructed. The tailor froze upon seeing the painting, almost forgetting what the auctioneer had just said. "Y-yes sir! At once, sir!"

"I have two other paintings I'd like to donate," Relm said. "Yes, yes, very well," the auctioneer replied, yet his eyes were still fixated on the painting. "Bring them whenever you can."

Relm and Christina exchanged looks. They both shrugged and left the auction house.

"Three million gil. That sounds excessive, doesn't it?" Relm asked. She was excited enough to receive 650,000 that day, but to become a millionaire at her age? Strago wouldn't be able to handle it if he knew.

"It's not, depending on who's the one buying," Christina replied. But even her hands were wringing each other out of nervousness each time Relm looked. That was a lot of gil.

They encased the other two paintings in simple frames before returning to the auction house. The auctioneer appraised them without a second glance, assigning a high value to them. Was it because of what they were, or was it because Relm painted them? Could she have built a high enough reputation to put other artists to shame? She fought against exercising that mindset. The need to cast aside her pride was as hard as fighting off an attack from the Triad itself.

Such a secret could not be contained within the four walls of the auction house. The tailor eventually blurted it out to the townspeople as they visited, bragging about a new painting that looked priceless. Soon enough, the upper and middle-class townspeople crowded the outside of the auction house while those who were inside were only allowed in by special invite due to their net worth. All the outsiders could do was squeeze in a view from the window.

Relm, meanwhile, stayed in the studio. She didn't need to be smothered by onlookers and townspeople who'd cast a deluge of questions about where she received her inspiration, who taught her, how she'd know the techniques, or even whether she had a personal relationship with Owzer himself. She wanted to retch at that last thought.

Christina wanted to give her some practice in sculpting, asking her to replicate one of her past creations. Despite how secluded they were, they could still hear the roars of the crowd at infrequent times. "They must be bidding over the painting, now."

"Guess so," Relm said. She missed her mark and chiseled a piece unintentionally. "Shit."

"It takes time to get it right," Christina said. Relm traced her finger along the divot. "Not when they're out there making so much noise."

"Did you want to call it a night?" Christina offered.

"Yeah."

The following morning, several knocks on the front door compelled the pair to leave the bedroom. Christina rapidly tied a knot around her nightrobe while Relm had to contend with only one slipper. "Alright, stop knocking!" she shouted at the door.

The person on the other side was someone neither had expected to meet once Christina unlocked the door. "Oh! Hello?"

"The hell are you knocking so many times for?!" Relm shouted. "Can us girls get some beauty rest?!"

"Sis…!"

"M-my apologies for the, um, in-intrusion, miss, and little miss," the man said. The annoyance ebbed immediately. Something was way off about this guy, even though he was well-dressed in a suit, polished shoes, and white gloves. But there was something unmistakable about the lack of color in his hollow, gaunt face and the quivering in his voice that betrayed the presentation.

"Forgive us. My sister can be a little on edge in the mornings," Christina said, yet there was a half-truth behind it. Not about them being sisters – now – but by the fact Relm didn't consider herself to be in a foul mood most of the time when she woke up. She gave her a look regardless.

"Lord Owzer requests the presence of the young artist who painted the Warring Triad he purchased at the auction yesterday," the man said. His voice steadied, but Relm could still detect he was in a state of mind that told her he did not want to be outside the mansion whatsoever.

"Owzer?" She paused to consider the name and then it hit her. "Hey, I remember you, now. You're that butler guy I saw at the auction house a few months ago who gets his stuff for him?" Relm asked.

"Yes. I am his Lordship's most humble servant. My Lord has been most impressed with the works he had me purchase at the auction that he requested I send for you to meet him in person at the mansion."

The butler bowed, hand pressed to his heart. Relm scanned the area around him. "Huh. Um, won't you come in, then?" she offered.

"I am most sorry," the butler said. "H-he insisted that y-you come im-m-mediately."

"What?!"

"Forgive me! His Lordship will punish me severely if I do not return with you!" the butler pleaded.

Relm eyed Christina. "Could you give us a moment?" she said before slamming the door shut.

"What the fuck is wrong with that guy?" Relm hissed.

"Calm down," Christina said. "And please work on your language."

Relm rolled her eyes. "Immediately?! I've got work to do here! Besides, wasn't it some sort of forbidden rule against going to that mansion? What the hell does that Owzer guy want with me?"

She thought it over for a few seconds before opening the door again. "What does your boss want with me? I won't go unless I know what this is about."

"I'm s-sorry! I cannot divulge the details. Only that if you do not accompany me, bad things could happen to the townspeople," the butler explained.

"Look, asshole," Christina said. Relm had to do a double-take. "If this is a prank you're trying to pull on us, then get your ass back home. My sister is not a bargaining chip for your sick game, got it?!"

The butler prostrated himself before them. "No! I'm serious! You don't know what it's been like up there since the incident happened! We need the services of this girl!"

"Geez."

Relm bent to pull his arm. "Get up. Come inside."

The butler resisted at first until his other arm was held by Christina. "Come, it'll be alright."

As Christina boiled water in a kettle, Relm pulled out a chair for the butler. "Tell us what's been going on. If you do that, I'll go with you."

"I swore a vow of secrecy. I can't speak of this. I'm cursed to die if I do," the butler protested.

"You won't die if I'm going to cooperate," Relm assured him.

"But she has a way of knowing. She's had a hold on this town since the incident," he said. "Oh dear, I've said too much now."

His voice shifted from normal to near-wailing as he spoke. Relm wanted to prod him further, regardless. "What's this 'incident' you keep referring to?"

"The apocalypse?" Christina chimed in. The butler nodded quickly.

"It wasn't immediate, but before we knew it, the mansion was haunted by some demon. She didn't seem demonic, but as days went by, Lord Owzer's mood changed. He became more demanding, more secluded in his room, ordering me to perform all sorts of tasks for him. His preference for art changed as well. He was more critical of what he saw, berated his long-time artist until he quit, and sent me to buy art from the auction house. Whenever I'm in that room, I swear I hear another voice, speaking to Lord Owzer. It sounded seductive, and enticing, but only to him. To me, she was vindictive, shallow, and full of malice, as if I was a plaything for Owzer to be abused at her whim. If I didn't know any better, I swear there were two of them sharing the same body."

"So where do I fit into all this?" Relm asked. "If the mansion's haunted, shouldn't we find someone to get rid of the demon possessing it?"

"She feeds off the sins of the people in Jidoor. The richer they are, the more she feeds from them. Their greed and apathy towards the lower classes are a veritable buffet for her."

Christina had a cup of tea ready for him. "Here."

"I haven't had much of an appetite or desire for anything. My soul's barely clinging on as it is. I've said more than what was needed. By tomorrow, I may not have anything left to call a soul in my body once she's had her fill. I'll end up as some mindless puppet," the butler said. The sunken face and hollow-eyed gaze the butler had on his tea was so gaunt it was amazing to Relm that he could speak with such a steady voice. His soul must have clung on long enough to tell someone of the dark secret Owzer's mansion hid from Jidoor since the apocalypse happened. He drank from the cup without a care for how hot it was. "I've lost my sense of taste and smell long ago. That was the first thing I noticed she took from me," he muttered. Even his voice was on the brink of going.

"Don't we have anything to heal him? Something to restore his soul before it goes?" Relm asked.

"There is one thing," the butler said. "But she's been quite protective of it."

"Is that so?"

Relm gave Christina a somber look. She nodded to the studio and rose from her chair. "Excuse us."

After Christina closed the door, she rested her hand against the knob. "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked Relm.

"I think so. I'm not much in terms of using magic or being a Magi, but I've had this bad tingling on the back of my neck for months. I tuned it out, but after what that butler's been saying regarding the townspeople, there's no mistaking the fact that Jidoor is under the control of this demon. It's become apparent whenever they stop to stare at anyone climbing the stairs towards the mansion. Besides, I'm not about to let some ancient bitch intimidate me."

"Promise me you'll be careful," Christina said. Relm wrapped her arms around her. Often she's had to be pulled into hugs by Christina, but she knew this time she needed to initiate. "I'll be careful. I promise. I'll save Jidoor, then the world. I'll come back when all of this is done and we'll have a normal town to live in again."

"Then we should start packing some things for a long stay," Christina said.

The butler was in his seat, staring into the empty cup. "I'll go," was all Relm told him.

She chose her Thamasan garb for this trip. If anything, she wanted to leave an impression on Owzer that she was proud of her hometown, and that it was an artist from so far away who painted the very gods of Magic. Packing a trunk full of clothes and painting supplies made it a chore for Relm to drag out of the shop. She gave her sister one more long embrace. "Thank you for everything, sis. I'll come back, count on it."

"I love you, sis."

Rather than haul the heavy trunk up the stairs, the butler seemed to perform the task with little difficulty. "Geez, for a guy who looks so fragile, you're still pretty strong," she noted. The butler did not say anything as he ascended the long stairway.

A deep chill blew through Relm as she cleared the stairway to the top. She clutched the straps of her bag tightly, pressing it against her. "Okay, maybe a little intimidating, but I can manage."

The grand hall of Owzer's mansion was puzzling at first glance. The absence of light gave off a vacated vibe as she walked in. "Hello? Mister Owzer?" she called. Her voice should've echoed, given how vast the area was, but it was absorbed in the darkness ahead. She could faintly see the semblance of a stairwell at the far back with a side stair that led to a separate study area. "Hey, butler, what's with the lack of light?"

"Conservation of electricity," the butler responded flatly.

"Electricity…?" Relm muttered. She couldn't put a finger on what he was talking about until he pressed a switch next to a lamp hung over the stairwell. Seconds later, the entire area was illuminated. "Holy…!"

"If you'll excuse me, lady Relm, I must bring his Lordship's journal to him," the butler said. He directed her to a writing desk with an open book that he snapped shut. He ascended the stairs and disappeared before Relm could process where he was ascending to. "Does Owzer live up there?"

She decided to follow the butler's path up the stairs until she reached an art gallery. "Ooh! Fancy stuff!" she exclaimed.

She approached each piece and studied it. They had an old quality to them, as though they were painted some time ago, possibly years if not centuries. Armor that pre-dates anything she figured was prominent, as well as a still-life of flowers. "Whoever did this has a gift for bringing this to life," she whispered. "Kind of like me."

One painting had a dignified old man with an almost dog-like face. Long mustaches that dropped past his chin and neck framed a rigid posture, yet exuded power. Power was written all over this painting the more she observed it. "It looks like it's about to fall," she said. Adjusting the painting to get a better grip on the hooks, a piece of folded paper fell from the back of it. "What's this?"

She unfolded the page. "Seek the entrance where the mountains form a star. There…," she turned the page over. "Not much of a note if the rest is either erased or faded. I can't make the rest of this out. Oh well, back it goes."

She tucked it into an open slot on the back of the painting enough so that it wouldn't fall out so easily. She resumed adjusting the painting until she was sure it had a better position on the wall. "You're creepy, whoever you are," she muttered at it.

She caught herself mid-gasp when she spun to see the butler stand before her. "This way, please."

"Ever consider a career change? Like an Assassin, perhaps? How in the hell do those shoes not make any noise?" Relm asked as the butler opened the door. "Forgive the lack of lighting," he said, guiding her forward with a candleholder in his hand to light up the way ahead. He led her down a stairwell to the lower levels and through a series of hallways that functioned as a maze, it would seem. Sounds of whispers could be heard from the walls, along with a woman's subtle, yet quiet laughter. The paintings hung on the walls all depicted portraits of historical figures, none of which Relm recognized, yet their manner of dress and posture implied that they must have some history with Jidoor in a way. But she couldn't shake the feeling that they were watching her walk by while following the butler.

One final door led to a grand room that was fully lit. "Lord Owzer's grand chamber," the butler presented her. There were two sets of stairs across from each other that zigzagged to the same level. She wanted to ask why two sets of stairs, but she was more fascinated by the painting above the door. It turned out to be the one she first painted that sold for 650,000 gil.

Once she reached the second level, the Warring Triad masterpiece she crafted was mounted on the far left wall. Under its own set of lamps, Relm could get a better view of how much the Triad stuck out from the background. "Holy shit, I did a lot better than I thought I did," she whispered.

It did not prepare her for the sight that beheld her once she ascended the stairs to the third level of the room. Seated on a sizeable chaise lounge was a husk of a man with a blob-like face and jowls so wrinkled and low she wondered what was holding them up. He was also grotesquely obese, clothed in layers of haute couture that she imagined must have been a nightmare for the tailor to sew.

"Ah," the man breathed. Wheezed sounded more like it. Every motion seemed to require a lot of energy to pull off. "You must be little Relm."

"May I present to you, the esteemed Lord Owzer," the butler said, bowing before her while extending his hand to the large husk.

Keep it together, Relm. "Hi. It's a pleasure to meet you, sir." I'm going to throw up.

"Leave us, servant. I have much…to discuss…," Owzer said. Every word he spoke sounded like it would be his last, yet he still had much resonance behind it. Relm stood in place. "Come, come, don't be shy, Relm. I have been…looking forward to…seeing you…."

Large mounds that counted as arms rose to clap his hands. "Servant! Bring us crudités! And fetch my wine!"

"It shall be done, Lord Owzer," the butler said with a bow. "And prepare a juice for the guest!" Owzer added.

It didn't take much for Relm to realize how awkward this meeting was going to be. "Alright, let's cut to the chase. I'm here now, so what do you want from me?" she said in a flat tone. She wasn't about to let some well-dressed mass of fat and bones boss her around like he does the butler.

Owzer began to laugh, however. "I can see why these paintings of yours are so popular," he said. He flicked his tongue around his mouth to lick his lips as he spoke, which added another layer of disgust. He pointed his arm forward at the Warring Triad. "Your feistiness is written all over that one. You are someone blessed with much passion."

He grabbed the side of the lounge to pull himself up into a neutral seated position. "I need that passion from you for something."

"Look, I have my limits. So if you're asking me to paint your portrait, forget it," Relm didn't want to mince words and insisted she spoke as bluntly as possible. This incited another fit of wheezing and laughter from Owzer.

"My appearance means nothing to me, Relm. Nor does my vast wealth. The paintings are what give me life. They are my babies. My precious treasures."

She did not expect to hear that from him. What could she say in response to that?

When the butler returned with a tray full of crudités and two glasses, one full of a pale liquid, he passed it to Relm. "Your juice, my lady."

"Thanks."

"Servant, fetch the painting over there. It's about time she sees what she's here for," Owzer said. After the butler poured Owzer his wine and brought the tray to within arm's reach, he retrieved a covered painting from the back bookshelf, tucked between the shelf and the wall. It was large, whatever it was. "Servant, leave us."

Relm stopped mid-sip once she saw what was uncovered. After the butler left the room, she examined the painting. It was worn and faded, yet she could still distinguish the pose of a middle-aged woman with a shadowy husk hovering behind her, arms reaching out towards her face and chest. Relm downed the rest of her juice, making a face in the process. "Sour," she muttered.

"Tell me, young Relm," Owzer began, biting into a piece of fruit so juicy it trickled down his face and onto his vest. "What do you know of the Goddess Lakshmi?"

"Lakshmi…?"

She had trouble thinking through the question while watching him stuff his face with pieces of crusty buttered bread, cheese, and fruits. He cared little for his table manners, instead eyeing Relm as he waited for her answer.

She rose to approach the painting. Gazing at the woman in the frame, she ignored the shadow to focus on the facial features. There was something more to the woman's features, almost ethereal, it seemed.

There was no mistaking it. She could sense magic in this painting.

When she took a few steps back, she studied the rest of the painting. Blue robes were faintly visible, wrapped around the woman modestly enough to cover her, with protrusions she deduced were some sort of crown worn along the back. The magical aura exuded by the painting directed her to the bookshelf where the painting was stored.

"Step away from the shelf," Owzer barked. "Will you answer my question?"

"Yeah, yeah, calm yourself lard-ass," Relm said. "I know magicite when I see it."

"Then you know who this is?" he asked.

"Judging by the magic I sense, she's probably an Esper," Relm told him.

"Correct. I need you to restore this painting for me. You are capable of restorations, aren't you?" he asked.

"Not as such, but it doesn't look too hard from the looks of it. How much am I getting out of this?" He better fork up a lot of gil for this. I should be paid just for looking at his ugly face.

"Food and lodging," Owzer answered.

"What…?"

"I have all accommodations prepared for you, Relm. A bed is provided, and my servant will prepare any meal at your request until the work is completed."

"Oh, hell no. Fuck this, I'm not doing this for free, fat-ass," Relm barked, spinning around. She took a step forward but found herself impeded by an invisible force. "The hell…?!"

"I'm sorry, little Relm, I truly am," Owzer said. He didn't sound like someone imprisoning her. If she didn't know any better, he sounded like someone equally imprisoned.

"Hey! Demon bitch! This isn't funny!" Relm bellowed. She was met with a melodic giggle. "Damn it all."

She balled her fists. "So that's why you haven't left the mansion?" she asked. She couldn't bear the sight of him.

"And made me say horrendous things to my butler!" Owzer cried. "I try to resist her, Relm. But I become a terrible person when he is in my presence. The trauma he must endure!"

"No shit!" Relm said, rounding on him. "Look how thin his face is! There's barely anything left of him! Why can't you do anything about it? You have money, don't you? Hire someone to get rid of this bitch!"

He can't.

Relm froze. The melodic giggle came back. He's a wonderful toy, isn't he, girl? Once he's outlived his usefulness, you'll be next.

She hissed through her teeth. "What the hell are you?"

That's not up to you to decide. Restore the painting at his request and I'll release my hold on this place.

"What's in it for you? What do you gain by me restoring that painting?"

Unlimited power, promised to me by Lord Kefka.

"I'll burn the painting, then."

Owzer wheezed as if trying to gasp. "No! I can't have the painting ruined!"

"What do you mean you can't have it ruined? Destroy it and she won't have this 'unlimited power.'"

Then I'll suck every last drop of souls in this forsaken town. Tempt it, if you must, girl.

Relm chuckled. "Then what? Without unlimited power, you'd be stuck in this area, wouldn't you?" No response. "So there's a catch, isn't there?"

You're a quick one, I'll give you that.

"So if I finish this, you get your wish and we're set free. I destroy this now, you kill all of us, and you stay trapped in this mansion forever. Either way, we still win, more or less," Relm said. Another melodic giggle. I like you, girl. Make your choice.

"Not much of a choice. There's no guarantee you'll free us anyway if I do complete the restoration," Relm said. No giggle, but she could tell there was some air of amusement from the demon's part.

I wouldn't waste too much time thinking it over, however. The servant is nearly depleted, which means I may have to move onto a new source for my satiation. Perhaps you? Perhaps, say, a sibling?

Relm's chest tightened. "You wouldn't."

Another giggle.

"Stop laughing!"

The giggle increased, growing louder. "Stop it!"

Relm struggled with few emotions during this tumultuous time after the apocalypse. The pain of not knowing whether Strago or anyone survived or not to deal with the enraging loss of her prized artwork. The grief of seeing how much Christina had to deal with over losing her family. She grieved herself once she came to grips with what happened to Thamasa both before and after the apocalypse.

But this was the first instance of abject terror coursing through her heart. She gained a new family member in Christina and grew to love her as such. Threatened to lose her left her hollow before she realized it. Now she couldn't cope with the possible consequences.

So you'll do as I ask, then?

"Fuck you."

That's my girl.

She faced the painting. "Let's get this mounted against the wall. I'll need a lot of space to work on this."

The look on Owzer's face was like a man trapped in a mask. Whatever that mask was, it changed, as if they were theatrical masks that shifted from happy to sad. Only in this case, it went from serene to angry, depending on the presence of the butler.

Owzer's face shifted once the butler arrived. "Servant!" he barked. Seconds later the butler returned. "Prep the painting on the wall! Do not damage it or I'll have your hide!"

His wheezing and phlegmy breathing irritated Relm. It irritated her that it was forced malice from the demon's magic. He knew the consequences of his actions.

Relm ignored the voice for now. She moved to aid the butler but was locked in place. "Seriously?! He needs help!"

"Servant! Get a move on! I want that painting restored, post-haste!" Owzer howled again. Realizing the truth of the situation made each mistreatment like a bludgeon to the heart. She wanted to cry. "And replenish my tray! I'm famished!"

The butler's hands struggled to hold the painting aloft. "He's not going to get it up. It's going to fall!" Relm shouted. "Let me go so I can help him!"

Alright.

Lifting her leg, she dashed to the butler and pushed against his arms to keep the painting steady. "I've got you."

It took some effort from a weakened adult and a child, but both were able to secure the painting in place.

"About time you finished, servant! Now get my wine!" Owzer barked. Relm couldn't help but flinch. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

She laid a hand on the painting. Lakshmi, if you're there, give me the strength to endure this. We'll find a way to get rid of this demon.

When the butler exited the room, Owzer burst into a fit of coughing. Relm paused to hear him, and there was no mistaking the number of sobs that were interspersed with them. She glared around the room. One day my friends will find me, and they'll make you pay dearly.