Chapter 94

The Aethereal Sea

Tyris floated within the aethereal sea. A mirror realm to the material world, it was essentially a dark vacuum lit by the swirls and eddies of magical force. Eight colours in all, one for each element, interspersed with the dark volatility of the Ninth. She could see where they brightened, concentrations peppering the surface of the Planet, some broken through and manifested as draw points; her mother had taught her about draw points, a long time ago.

She had no real concept of time here. However, Tyris knew where her body lay, under careful observation by Kadowaki's staff on Battleship Island. Rinoa had visited her, both here and at her bedside. Her physical form was undergoing fundamental changes. When she awoke, she would be no mere Tool of Hyne, but one of his Descendants. She would not be mortal as long as she bore His blessing. Or His curse, depending on one's perspective. In any case, she would find it fundamentally difficult to live among the ordinary populace. His Tools were wary of her kind. Some they followed like castrated sheep, like Gorgo or Adel or Ultimecia herself. Others they had outright despised, which had been the case with Edea in the end. Others they treated as pariahs, like Zenobia or Rhiannon. Some had been revered as deities until they had fallen out of favour, such as Jadis.

Despite the efforts of Rinoa, Quistis and Selphie to show that Hyne's power could be used solely for good, most humans were not ready to accept witches to live in their midst.

Tyris could take a Knight. There was already someone who had effectively been performing that role after her defection, but he had endured a great trauma when she had left him, and then he had vanished himself. After seeing Garland crushed beneath Reinhardt's hammer, Ballad probably did not think he was worthy of defending anyone, least of all a Sorceress. Despite what was depicted in fanciful tales, like those of Zefer and Matoya, there was no magical bond between a Sorceress and her Knight. That such was the case, with no invisible link between the two, was better testament to the strength of such relationships. Regardless, a Knight could do nothing for a Sorceress when she was swimming and flying in the Aether. Searching out the Last Garland was a task for when Tyris awakened.

By far the largest concentration of the lightning element was over the reflection of the western continent, specifically the northern part of it. Meteorologists had never been able to explain this long-lasting abnormality; it still led to much head scratching decades after the Tools of Hyne had sent their satellites into the atmosphere. However, Tyris now knew it was far from natural. She had a vague memory of a night-time story from the orphanage; she could not remember specifics, but Edea had said the pall of storm clouds were a curse, placed there by one of the Original Four Descendants of Hyne to punish a particularly cruel and scornful king, a curse that would punish every generation of his line for all eternity.

To this day, the curse had never been lifted. Out of the other fourteen of Hyne's Descendants, none had had either the skill with lightning or the inclination to dispel it. Tyris could not even recall the name of that old kingdom, though it had been from a time when kings lived in stone castles and were more akin to tribal chiefs. She did, however, bitterly remember the mournful weather from some of her childhood in Venetia. The beach had practically been on their doorstep, but she could probably only count on her hand the days the weather had abated enough for her to enjoy it. Summers had seen frequent monsoons and even typhoons. Winters had been bleak and miserable, with freezing squalls and icy rain as cold and sharp as broken glass.

When Tyris saw this gargantuan knot of cruelly manipulated aether, she was unperturbed. To fly upon the aethereal plane, she did not even need the blessing of Quetzalcoatl's wings. The Stormbringer spiralled right into it, feeling it caress her immaterial reflection, resonating with her. It felt the power she commanded, through Ramuh, Quetzal and Raikou. It welcomed her, and it would do whatever she willed of it.

Tyris had never presumed to be righteous. The charitable thing to do would be to undo the concentration of lightning force. Except she did not know how, not yet. And besides, she had a better idea. There was another land that was far more deserving of such incessant and spirit dampening storms, one that was harsh in its own right and saw very little rainfall throughout the entire year. The pall was large enough to cover the entirety of Esthar City. Tyris turned to the east, and the vortex moved with her. She had no long idea how it took in the material realm. As she crossed the pulsing blues of the Central Ocean, its speed was both aided and harried by wind energy, and that was not her area of expertise. All she could do was make sure the lightning vortex did not weaken or grow smaller.

When Tyris had placed it where she wanted to, she left its nurturing, suddenly feeling naked and exposed as she drifted to the concentrations of ice over Trabia. Summer was almost upon the Planet, and those who dwelled in northern Galbadia would now be able to enjoy sun-drenched walks on the promenades. The whole vegetation of the region would change, thereby changing Galbadia's exports and economy. Tourism would shift from the Monterosa Gulf to the northern coast, as the former was simply too hot in the summer season.

As she reached the northernmost point of Winter Island, Tyris reflected that she felt very little about to performing a simple action that had changed the World forever. The legends said Rhiannon had performed a similar action with ice, to punish the people of the far north for persecuting her – one that could be similarly undone one day.

Tyris looked northwest. She was curious to see what the southern lands looked like on this plane. Would there be some residue left over from the Mother of all Lunar Cries? She had seen traces of the last two Cries over Esthar and Trabia, a tainting of the matter akin to a nuclear fallout, effecting the genetic makeup of plants and small organisms to this day.

She flew to the small peninsular on Lenown where she knew Edea's House had stood. The stone temple would have only appeared as a shadow here, though despite its destruction, its every shape and contoured was firmly instilled in her mind. Only the lighthouse remained now, and even that stood precariously. Tyris closed her eyes, imagining that she was back there, with Thalassa and all the other children. She had seen the rest of those children die, one by one, over the years in the mines. She remembered their names. She had never stopped reciting the names of the wardens responsible for their deaths until she had crossed every last one from her death list.

Tyris drew the eddies of lightning force around her from miles around, swirling them around her, reassuring her that she had finally had the strength to avenge them all. It probably causing a storm in the physical world. But that was okay, nobody lived here anymore.

She sensed another presence, and it was not Rinoa. Her immediate thought was Ultimecia. Tyris rose high into the air, Raikou appeared like a firm lightning bolt extending from her arm.

The intruder was blue, with sandy coloured hair, reassuring Tyris somewhat. She was certain Ultimecia would not appear here as a blue shade. She would either be scarlet or purple, the colour of her attacks, or midnight black, like her wings and her heart. However, Tyris did not relax, as she knew not who it could be; this was a vast and empty plane of existence, and very few beings could come and go at will. As it got closer, she could see small claws and a lean, corded body with its breasts and crotch exposed. There was a horn atop its head, betwixt its eyes like the unicorns of myth. A narrow and forked tail. It stopped flying towards her, looking at her with warm hazel eyes that Tyris found vaguely familiar.

She had heard of such a description, in one of her mother's night tales, but the name had escaped her. As far as faerie tales went, she could always remember the barebones of the stories, but not the specifics.

'Tyris,' it said simply.

She gasped, for she knew that voice. It belonged to Ellone. In the same instant, the name of that legendary figure came to Tyris. When she had served the Empire, people had referred to Ellone as the Descendant of Unei, who herself had been one of the three Students of Noah, along with Doga and Xande. All at once, Tyris knew that moniker to be true. Ellone was a mirror image of Unei in this world, and it was not the only alternative plane she could visit. Unei had been goddess of the World of Dreams!

Still, Tyris did not relax. Tyris had killed Ellone's husband, after all, and although she did not fear Ellone in the real world, she would be extraordinarily powerful here; her holy magic was almost unparalleled. When they had last spoken, Ellone had said she might be able to forgive her one day, but she would certainly never forget. Nor would Raine or her siblings. And Tyris would never expect it of them.

'What do you want, Ellone?' she asked warily.

'To fulfil a promise that I made to your mother,' she replied. 'It's okay, Tyris. Our desire will be one and the same. I know what the last image you had of your parents was, on the night your life changed forever. The night we should have been there for you. And I know you will never ask me to take you to my world, the World of Dreams, because you feel you have no right to ask me for anything. And you're right about that,' she added coldly.

'What promise?' Tyris demanded.

'The truth,' Ellone said. 'What you have always desired to know, and what your mother always wanted to you know someday. I can take you to her past. Events such as her reconciliation with Seifer, and the circumstances that led to him adopting you. The day she finally met Ultimecia in the present.'

'You would truly do this for me?' Tyris questioned.

'Yes,' Ellone said, but then her sapphire and aquamarine form stiffened. 'But be honest with me. Will you try to change what happened?'

Tyris hesitated. It was something she had always fantasised about doing, she would admit. And here, Ellone would know her intentions just by looking at her.

'I know I'm a Sorceress now, and I know what the future Ultimecia used you for,' Tyris said reluctantly. 'But in truth, what's done is done. I just want to be able to speak to my mother before she dies. To let her know that Thalassa and I survive, and to ease her passing.' She paused. 'You allowed Lassa to do the same for Zell.'

Ellone sighed, looking below them, to where orphanage used to be.

'I used to be adamant that the past can't be changed,' she said. 'Not with my power, anyway. But by a Sorceress, I don't know. The future Ultimecia caused a world war in our time, using a machine based on my power. That can't have happened originally, in an unaltered timeline. And when I sent Squall to the nearest past, he was able to communicate with Rinoa, after Ultimecia left her to die in space. He stopped her from giving up.'

'Even if I can change things,' Tyris responded, 'I don't know if I will. It was a long time ago, and I'm finally at peace with it all now. Well, almost. Ultimecia is still alive.'

Ellone nodded. 'Okay, Tyris. Even if I am too embittered to do it for you, I'll do it for your mother, just like I promised.' She came closer and reached with her clawed hand. 'Take my hand. Let's go to my world.'