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Chapter I: Terra’s/Sabin’s Tale

She could see him. The mad overlord Kefka, on top of the pillar he had made out the innocent lands of the world. He was laughing a hellish storm that seemed to form all around them. She felt so helpless looking at the insane, powerful being.
“Life...Dreams...Hope...Where'd they come from? And where are they headed...? These things...I'm going to destroy!” he yelled.
No, she thought, no you won’t.
“And there’s no one to stop me.”
We can stop you.
“I will destroy you!” He pointed right into her direction. “ESPER!! RAHAHAHAHHEHEHEHEHE!!!!!!!!!!”

“NO!” She yelled. Relm darted around. “Terra,” she asked, “are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine.” Terra Branford got out of her bed and walked out of the room. Dammit, Kefka! She thought to herself. Relm Arrowney was a young girl about fifteen.
They were living together, Terra, Relm, and the boy Gau, in a cottage far beyond any town, in the Narshe Country area. Gau would seldom stay indoors; he loved the outside, which was of course predictable.
Terra and Relm walked outside. There he was. Gau was already picking a fight with some small local monster, probably simply being drawn to the food growing in the garden.
“Gau!” Terra yelled. The monster ran off and Gau turned around. He had gotten over his old habits and grown into society, though he occasionally would turn back to his feral instincts, purposely or otherwise. He was seventeen and had brown-blonde hair with a ponytail. He stood completely up. He was getting tall.
His green eyes shown with some guilt, and some embarrassment. “Uh, heh…sorry Terra,” he smiled. She stared at him. There was no way she could be mad him, she knew.
“Well in any case you need to stop acting like a creature,” Relm spoke for Terra, as she constantly liked to do. Relm had also grown more or less out of her spoiled childish attitude, though for whatever reason would resort back when she felt annoyed, mainly by Gau.
Gau blushed. Terra knew that he had a crush on Relm for quite some while, and she suspected Relm likewise. The two went on in conversation, mostly Relm. Terra was just trying right now to get the images of Kefka out her head. It was a nightmare; she had been having them since the Battle for the World five years ago. Since that time, the Band—as Locke liked to call it— had gone their separate ways. Terra took in Gau, for neither of them had a real home. Relm’s father, Clyde—or Shadow as he was known—had gone off somewhere, and her grandfather Strago had recently past away. So Terra took her in, too.
She had set up a nice house in the country. The walls were covered with Relm’s artwork; it was all very nice indeed. Gau had little more than a few belongings, for he had never been strongly attracted to material possessions. Terra only had a few things as well, mostly clothes. Another thing, which Terra kept concealed, was a set of swords, knives, and armor, which she was saving for a “rainy day.” She looked up into the surrounding mountains. She wasn’t looking at anything in particular, she didn’t think. The mountains always caught her attention though, and she did feel as if there may be something important.

Sabin Rene Figaro was wandering through the mountains, bringing on any challenger. In the past five years, his master, Duncan, had died and Sabin took the title of Grand Master. Before the old man died, Sabin had become a double black belt in the Blitz. “The only thing keeping you from a double red,” he remembered Duncan saying, “is your own foolish pride and cockiness. I guess this comes with youth.”
But Sabin would take his master’s advice and become a true master. He would train a new generation of martial artists. At the time he was the last studier of the Blitz.
His brother Edgar was still the king of Figaro and, last time he checked, was married with a little girl. Heh, Sabin had laughed, I’d have thought he’d have been married ages ago the way he acts towards ladies.
These mountains Sabin could climb with his eyes closed. He started to venture here seven years ago, in a training exercise. After the world was ruined he came here to train for a while. He left to go to the town Tzen after a few months and stayed until he caught-up with the rest of the Band. He spent some time at Figaro Castle after the Battle for the World, but eventually returned to train under Duncan. Now here he was, going through an area he knew second nature. There were no monsters he could not beat on Mt. Koltz, and all monsters feared this muscular, brawny man.
Sabin hadn’t changed much, still arrogant, still cocky, still very proud. Climbing the mountain itself was the real exercise, since no beasts would fight him. Maybe it was best he went somewhere else. No! Sabin thought. This was the place Duncan told me to go. And I’ll stick to his word. Duncan was like a father—or more like grandfather—to Sabin, especially after he was bed-ridden. Now, anything Duncan had said was law, a commandment that Sabin would follow. He only wondered for how long.

Chapter II: Locke’s Tale

Locke Cole, as well, hadn’t changed much. He was more adult, but still went on the occasional treasure hunt. Though now he was married. Two years ago, he married his love, Celes Chere, who was also a member of the Band of the Returners. They were living in the town of South Figaro. Right now, however, they were in a cave in eastern Kohligen. As Locke remembered, there was no cave in Kohligen when he was growing up. But after the world was ruined, a cave system appeared due to the sudden change in erosion.
They were searching for treasures and gold—what else? —and were having very little luck. Though adventures had always been fun for Locke, even if there was no reward. Celes too was growing into the thrill of the journey.
Locke was now showing her a small tunnel. “C’mon, trust me. There should be something at the end of this tunnel.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, hon,” Celes said, with a slight bit of agitation, “but last time you said that, we were on the bad end of a rhinotaur.”
Locke grimaced. Shows how much you know, he thought. He saw the light. Ah-ha! He ran out the end. Locke was surprised to see a small nest of monstrous hornets. “Uh, oops,” he laughed embarrassingly under his breathe. The hornets attacked him. Locke got out a sword.
“Locke, what’s going on?” Celes called from behind, being unaware of the monsters.
“Uh, nothing, babe. Just hold on.”
He made quick slashes that took about twelve down. More came. Before he could make another attack, his wife jumped from behind with her own sword, a falchion, and made quick work of the enraged insects. Locke gave her a kiss to the cheek. “Thanks.”
“Oh, Locke, you punk. Stop acting like a kid all the time.”
“Maybe this’ll make it up.” He reached inside a hive and pulled out a small pearl. It was made of a honeycomb, hardened over time to make a beautiful jewel. “Oh, you’re lucky you’re cute,” Celes said.
“Thanks again,” he said and gave her another kiss.
“I’ll thank you this time. Do you think we should destroy the nests and get rid of the young?”
“What, and get rid of all these gorgeous honey-pearls? Nah, let’s keep them around.”
Anyways, he thought, time to get the real treasure. He looked around, and he spotted it. An old chest in the corner of the cave, just like he’d been told. It had best be worth my money. The opened the chest…but there was nothing there…
“Looking for this, boy?” he looked over and saw the illustrious swordsman Siegfried holding a golden amulet. Locke sighed. Not again!
“All right, you win again.”
“Ah-ah, the pearls.” He extended his hand. Celes looked over from where she was collecting more pearls from the hives. She had already collected four.
“Come on, Siegfried. It’s for my wife,” Locke pleaded.
“It’s all right, Locke,” Celes reassured him. She handed over the pearls. When she put the first one in his hand, she moved quickly behind him, dropped the other pearls, and put the falchion to his throat.
“Let’s trade,” she said, “the amulet for the pearl.”
He struggled a bit, then, somewhat sportsmanlike, conceded. He put the amulet in her hand, at the same time grabbing the honey-pearl.
“I guess we win this one, old man,” Locke taunted.
Siegfred wore a mask of cloth, Locke knew he was scowling him from underneath. This was the first time he had lost an exchange.

On the way out of the cave, Celes and Locke stopped and hugged each other before giving a kiss on the lips to the other.
“That was magnificent, Celes!” Locke complemented.
“What, the exchange or the kiss?” she replied smartly.
“Both!”
They kissed again. Celes’s long silver-blonde hair got in the way of this one, though they tried not to notice.
They had had a happy marriage. There were many of these “treasure hunting” adventures. Traveling all over the map just to find riches for themselves. Of course, they had to because Locke refused to get a job. He always considered treasure hunting to be a job. Celes threw fits about it all the time, about how he could never raise a family like that. As time went on, she grew into it. It was better than sitting around doing nothing, being a store clerk or merchant. They both had become too restless for that. And she always loved the prizes.
She got out the golden amulet. They gawked at it for a moment. It was even more beautiful in the daylight. Locke stared into her eyes. She was even more beautiful. She looked so happy at the sight of the jewel, so was he. Now they walked on, back to South Figaro.

Chapter III: Edgar’s Tale

Figaro Castle, the ruling house of Figaro Kingdom. It had been for over a hundred years. Throughout the long history of the Figaro family this had been the stronghold and moving fortress of the Royal Family. From King Matthias the Strong to King Edgar this had been their home.
Edgar Roni Figaro was the current king. He had the look of a monarchy. A long golden braid going down to his back and the rest of his hair gelled back. He wore a royal-blue tunic with a rolling cape to match. He was a handsome man with a devil-may-care attitude, though very gentleman like towards women. Five years ago he had served as the provisional leader of the Imperial resistant and later the Kefka resistant Returners. Two years before that he had been the ruler of Figaro and one of the leading allies of the Empire.
His father, King Sabin I, had been the one to tell him to resist the Imperials before he died, but the oppressing forces had made Edgar change his mind. Kefka made him do it. It was coincidence, probably, that that was also why he joined the Returners. Edgar had been remarked as a skilled fighter and an exceptional inventor. He even made many of the tools he used in battle. From the automatic crossbow to the noise blaster to the Air Anchor, he had made some of the best combat tools ever.
Since the downfall of Kefka, Edgar had renounced the leadership of the Returners to Dornim Ramah, the son of the original chief Bannon. He returned to Figaro to become king once again and had settled down into a regular life. Of course, now he was married and had a four-year-old daughter. He had awoke an hour ago and was seated in his thrown. Now I remember why I didn’t want to come back, he thought. This is so boring!
Then he heard little footsteps and his day brightened up.
“Daddy! Daddy!” little Edwina called out happily.
“Have a good night’s rest, sweetie?” he asked.
She nodded five times. Her mother, Queen Awin, was right behind her. She was very beautiful with long brunette hair and blue eyes that matched her daughters’. Edgar preferred brown eyes personally, but he wasn’t picky.
“How ‘bout you?” he asked her.
She nodded as well. “And you?”
“I guess.”
He scowled himself for thinking what he had. What was better than having such a beautiful family?
“Can I go out and play?”
“Alright. Go have fun,” he replied.
Edwina loved to play in the desert sand surrounding the castle, but always had to be followed by a guard because of all the creatures that lived in it. Edgar would never forgive himself if something bad happened to her.
He wished Sabin had stuck around; she always liked to play with him or watch him exercise and work out. Sabin had always loved playing with her, but he eventually grew restless and went off to train.
Edgar wondered where his twin brother was now. He often wondered where the rest of the Band had gone off to. He had stayed loyal to the now Victory Returners, and Figaro was a member of what was now the greatest sovereignty in the world.
He had managed to stay out of Returner involvement for the last three and a half years. He kind of wished he hadn’t, however. It was nice to know what was happening with his old friends, even though it wouldn’t be anything that interesting. Nothing was since that battle. He greatly wanted to meat with the others; he just didn’t know where they were at, though he could think of a couple of them.
“What’s wrong?” Awin asked.
He had almost forgotten that she was still there. “Oh just bored. A lot!”
“Well you could actually do some work around here,” she suggested.
“Nah, that sounds not like fun.”
She laughed at him. “You’re way too pampered and lazy, Edgar.”
He looked at her, emotionally wounded. “Hey, I’ve done plenty of things! Just that, since doing the said things, everything else falls into the background and becomes unimportant in comparison and in the great scheme—“
“Oh shuttup.”
Then he heard fast footsteps. A trooper.
“Your Majesty, it’s your daughter!” he said urgently.

Royal soldiers were gathered around outside of the castle. Their Majesties came through the ranks that hurried aside for them. There she was, Edwina was crouching in the sand. Edgar looked for her guard. He was also in the sand, though he wasn’t crouching. He was lying on his stomach with a stout spear halfway in his back.
“What is going on?” he asked the closest troop.
“Someone slew this man and tried to do the same to Edwina.” He looked over and saw another spear buried in the sand. Edwina was trembling with fear.
“Well someone go get her!” he demanded.
“We can’t. Read this. ‘Twas attached to the spear.”
He opened up a scroll that was handed to him and read:

Take not a step toward her. There are many throwers out here. We can kill any one of you in two seconds…or her!
With love of
The Asassens!

Edgar threw it aside and walked on. “Edgar, what do you think you’re doing!?” Awin yelled.
“There are not as many as he says,” he replied when he was three feet from his daughter. “If there’s anyone there with guts, try and shoot me!” he called out. Everyone waited.
When nothing happened, Edgar turned with his arms open and simply said, “See.”
Right when he said that, a spear came directly toward him. One of the soldiers made an attempt to jump in the way, but before he could, the king turned and jumped out of the way. The missile hit the sand. Now Edgar saw who had thrown it.
He unsheathed his sword and pointed in his/her direction. Without being told a word, the guards charged with their weapons out at the attacker. As they drew near, many of the other “Assassins” jumped up in fright. They threw their spears, but fell flimsily to the ground. When the troops got too close, the now defenseless attackers turned tail and ran. Edgar sheathed his sword and picked up his little girl.
When the soldiers reported back they showed a good supply of stout spears.

“Who do you think they were?” Chancellor MacKigg asked his king. Edwina had been taken to her room by her mother.
“Probably just some psycho team with spears,” Edgar suggested. “Or maybe they were sent from another clan, you know, opposers to the Throne. Nothing’s happened really though that I can remember up ‘til now.”
“I doubt it. I don’t even know of any opposing clans left in Figaro.”
“True as that may be, we cannot rule out this fact. There are still many other things that we could consider.”
“Like what?”
“Like old Imperial loyalists, terrorist and separatist organizations, or even Kefka Fanatics.”
“Please, Your Highness, I don’t even want to consider that.” Now-at-days, nobody wanted to think of Kefka Fanatics or anything Kefka-related. He was like an entity that crept through the souls of everybody. Hardly anyone even said his name, including the new Returners. The Band were the exceptions.
They, well most of them, were not afraid of him. After all, they were who destroyed him. Edgar knew that Locke, Sabin, Shadow, and probably Setzer and Cyan were not. The others he wasn’t too sure about, especially Terra. She seemed to be the worst effected by Kefka. After the Battle, all the Espers, magical beings that were a key element in the victory, said that they were taking all the magic and leaving the World for good. Terra was born of Esper blood; her father was Maduin the Warrior. When they took away all the magic, all magical creatures were subdued. Since Terra was half-human, she lived, but barely. After they escaped the Tower, Terra was bed-ridden for two-and-a-half weeks. After her recovery, she left to the town Mobliz to take care of orphans, the same ones she had cared for a year before. After that, she left and made her very own house somewhere. I think Gau’s with her, too, Edgar thought.
Edgar snapped out of his train of thought. Why was he all of sudden thinking about Terra? He didn’t know. What he did know was there was somebody out there that opposed him, his rule, and his family.

Out in the forests of Figaro, the eight “Asassens” ran to their refuge. Their group leader welcomed them back.
“So everything goes according to plan,” he said after they relayed the story.
“Very good,” a woman one said from her chair. “In no time we’ll have the whole country in a rouse.”
The eight grunts didn’t know what the “plan” was, though they knew were getting much praise from their leaders and were being well paid. Throwing spears at invisible targets then running like chased chickens was an easy enough job. They were told not to kill anyone but they thought that first soldier would be a good warning. Maybe they’d be paid a little extra.
“Well that’s all for you, ladies and gentlemen,” he said as he handed them their gold points.

Chapter IV: Crisis at Figaro

Over the next two days, Figaro Castle was guarded heavily on all entrances and lookouts watched from the castle towers. Scouts were sent out to seek through the land and forests of the region for any sign of the attackers.
King Edgar paced around his room, pondering. He thought about his conversation with the Chancellor. About opposing clans and loyalists. There were many possibilities. And none were any better than the other. He walked out of the bedroom towards his throne room where his family was already gathered. Edwina was not aloud, nor did she want, to play outside. Awin gave him a morning kiss. “How are you feeling?” she asked.
“I need a drink,” he answered back. The throne room servant went to get him a refreshment. He sat in his rightful seat. As he, his wife, and his daughter sat, a royal guard entered. He bowed before them, and then made his report.
“Your Majesties, the scouts we sent out are back.”
“And their report?” Edgar asked, already predicting an answer.
“Nothing. They found nothing in the forests nor anywhere else in the region. No tracks or anything. These ‘Assassins’ are very good at covering themselves.”
“Alright, very well, Sergeant.”
He saluted then exited. This is great, Edgar thought, nothing to trace, to find out who the hell they are. His servant came a little after the sergeant left and brought Edgar a whiskey. He also brought Awin & Edwina some tea. Well, the good news is that we don’t have to worry about another assault. As if cued by the king’s thought, the sergeant came back in and yelled, “Sir, come quick!!”
“What’s wrong?
“There’s someone here. Someones, I guess I should say. They’re in full armor and seem hostile
Damn…
Once again Edgar ran through the ranks to the front of the castle. He heard the unmistakable sound of steel on steel. He peered over and saw about thirty-something armor-clad men/women confronting the Figaro sentries. “Stop it!” Edgar yelled. “Stop it now!”
They all stopped and looked up at the king. “Who are you?” he asked the attackers.
“We are the Asassens!” they all yelled in unison.
“So I see, but who are you?”
One in the lead answered, “A complicated answer follows. Are you ready?”
“Shoot,” he said, though was slightly upset at his own word choice.
“Assault System And Self Sentinels Enforcing Needs!”
“Come again?”
“What, never heard of an acronym?”
“You’re a clever terrorist.”
“I’m not a terrorist, nor am I a clan member, loyalist, or Fanatic.”
“Wait, what…?”
He took of his helmet.
“Ma—MacKigg?”
The Chancellor of Figaro Kingdom and Director of the Asassens smiled at his king. “I am, however, a traitor!”
“You clever bastard,” Edgar repeated.
While they had the chance, the Asassens charged and slew their foes. The guards up top yelled as their colleagues were slaughtered. Edgar closed his eyes.
“This is a taste of what you will feel before long,” the former chancellor yelled.
“What do you mean? Aren’t you going to finish it?” Edgar stared down.
“No,” he smirked. “Just wait and see! Figaro and the rest of the world will feel the wrath!”
“Wrath of what?”
The Asassens made no reply. MacKigg’s eyes bore into Edgar, cold and grey. Even though he had seen those eyes hundreds of times, now they sent a shiver down his spine. MacKigg led his people casually down the desert. Once they were gone, the soldiers walked down to retrieve the remains of their fellow defenders. Edgar would not make an attempt to trace them again. Edgar turned around to see Awin holding her daughter.
“What happened here?” she queried.
Edgar took them back inside to explain.

“I don’t get it,” Queen Awin said. “Why would he do that?”
“Gold, I’m betting,” Edgar replied.
“Well what should we do?”
He waited a few moments.
“I think I’ll call a few friends.”

Chapter V: Reunion

In the days that followed, Edgar sent messages all around the globe. He did not know where some of the members of the Band were at, though he had some ideas. After some while, he received a carrier pigeon carrying a letter from Commander Dornim Ramah of the Victory Returners. The letter said that he should come to their new headquarters in Returned Island. So the next day, he mounted on a chocobo, the big yellow birds used for burden and transportation, and took off. The chocobo of this area were well adapted to the harsh desert land. They were the fastest creatures that could be offered.
He ran through the deserts, the flatlands, and the forests before coming up on South Figaro. On his way through, he dropped by a shop to pick up some provisions. He went in disguise, as he usually did when passing through public areas. Then he overheard someone, “Oh, come on now. Just pay up!”
“Please, babe, I don’t have enough money to go spending like that!”
“Don’t ‘babe’ me; just pay, for goodness sake.”
“But Cel-”
“Pay up, Locke!”
“Locke?” Edgar said. “Locke Cole?”
He looked up and saw his old friend. “Edgar?”
They met and shook hands. There were lots of “how’re you doing,” “you look good,” and stuff like that as the three had their reunion. “Well, what are you two yelling about?”
“Well Locke here won’t pay for some equipment we need,” Celes said.
“I told you, we’ll be fine.”
“Oh fine, you…” she walked off in frustration, mumbling the rest of the sentence under her breath.
“Oh and we got your message,” Locke said. “Sorry about…”
“Naw, don’t worry about it. Oh and I can pay for that, Locke.”
“Really? Thanks.”
“At least someone has some sense,” Celes said after finishing pacing.
The three left the store and just walked around for a little bit.
“So, you two are married now?”
“Yeah, two years ago,” said Locke.
“I got married, too. Four years. I’ve got a daughter now.”
“How nice, Edgar,” Celes commented.
“Well in any case, I’ve got to get to the port. I’m to meet with Dornim.”
“Really?” Locke said. “I guess we’ll go with you. I wanted to see how the little squirt was doing.”
They made their way to the port, made the fair, and went sailing.

They came up on the Returned Island about two days later. This was a remote area, somewhere south of Maranda in the Solitaire Sea. Since the Battle for the World, the Returners claimed the land for their base.
As they approached the front gate, there were many guards that approached them. They wore the familiar armor that they had worn through their years of resistance, brown-and-blue with a tarnished brown helm with a visor. You’d think after all this time, Edgar thought, they could get some better uniforms. “King Edgar?”
“Yes.”
“Commander Ramah is expecting you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The three former Returners followed their escort into the heavily guarded military base. He noticed that many of the officers and personnel were dressed in different attire than their escort. It appeared only the personal guards of the Commander had the vintage uniform. The soldiers all looked at Edgar and his companions with the utmost respect. Almost everyone in the world did after the Fall of Kefka. This island was mostly covered with woodlands, as the king saw, and looked like an ideal location for a base of operations.
They were escorted to what seemed as the very top of the base. Up there they met Commander Ramah. He was a young man, probably as old as Locke, and was good-looking. Still not as handsome as I! Edgar thought proudly. Locke had called Dornim “squirt” when they had met a few years ago, since he was a bit smaller than Locke was. Now he seemed a bit bigger, though may have been the armor.
Also in the top chamber they met someone oh-so familiar, Sir Cyan Garamonde, former Retainer to the King of Doma. He was an older man in his mid-fifties. His black hair was in a style similar to Edgar’s. He had a long mustachio that was neatly trimmed but shown with the graying of age. He was an otherwise attractive man, who showed the wrinkles of growing age. Day-and-night, it seemed, he wore this silver war armor that symbolized his status in the Doman ranks and his obviously more sophisticated personality than those around him.
He was a talented swordsman who only few—not including Edgar—could match up to. No one was sure what he had done since then. That probably showed that he was up to nothing of any importance.
“So, what’ve you been up to, fossil?” Locke asked.
“Try to show respect toward your elders!” Celes scowled mockingly.
“I can tell neither of thee haft changed,” grumbled Cyan in his very articulate accent.
“Oh come on! You know we’re glad to see you.”
“Aye, I know.”
“Greetings, Sir Cyan,” bowed Edgar in a formerly manner.
“At least thou have some manners. Thanketh thee, Your Royal King Edgar.” They took a few moments to catch up with each other. Cyan, as it seemed, had been living an otherwise peaceful life in Doma, serving as a governor to the Domans after some strange politics, which he didn’t get into, forced him out of his rightful kingship.
“Well I surely haven’t heard of any bloody hooligans going around calling thyselves ‘Asassens’.” Cyan declared afterwards.
“I’m sure none of us have,” Edgar said, “but we still—“
“Sorry, guys,” Dornim interrupted. “But I just got word that Setzer’s here.”

Edgar, Locke, Celes, Cyan, and Dornim watched as the airship Falcon flew over the fortress and to a safe landing zone. They went to greet the captain. Setzer Gabbiani was an impressive sight. He had long silver-white hair that went down to his shoulders with a porkpie hat atop of it and wore a long mackinaw trench coat. He was also brandishing an expensive looking cane. That along with his “let chance decide” attitude made him the symbolic gambler.
“Excuse my saying so,” Cyan said, “but I think that thou looked like a damned buffoon.”
“Show’s how much you know, old man,” Setzer sneered, though more in joking way.
“I hate to ask what you have been doing lately,” Edgar asked.
“Well I’ve been doing what I do best: gambling, cruising, watching opera, perhaps not in that order.”
“Hope you’ve gotten past abducting the opera star,” Celes said.
“That’s probably the only way he can get a woman anymore,” Locke joked.
Setzer took that offensively. “I’ll have you know I have gained and lost six women already.”
“All in five years!?” Locke exclaimed.
“Try per year.”
Locke’s jaw dropped slightly and he raised his eyebrows. Edgar just tried to figure out how that was even possible.
“Anyway, we didn’t come to discuss my love life, I hope.”
“No,” Dornim finally said. “So, couldn’t get Mog and Umaro?”
“Naw, they decided to stay behind in Narshe.”
“What hath they been doing?” Cyan asked.
“They’ve gotten together and are trying to rebuild Narshe. People have started to follow. I don’t know if Moogles are good at being persuasive, but I know for a fact that a sasquash is. Of course, with a little help from yours truly.”
“Well I can see the Falcon’s in good shape,” said Locke, who had walked up to the side of the airship. Setzer raced to his vessel and swung his cane, almost hitting his friend’s hand. “Don’t TOUCH!! I just got a new coat put on ‘er.”
“How much would that have cost?” Edgar queried.
“Why, one of my suitors earlier this year, matter-of-fact,” Setzer answered. “Shame, I really thought we were gonna make it.”
“Hm, hm,” Dornim interrupted finally. “But I think we should to more important matters.”
“Yeah,” Edgar, Locke, and Celes said at once.

When got back into the building, Terra, Gau, and Relm had already arrived. Once again, there were warm welcomes. “Good heavens, thouth grown!” Cyan exclaimed toward Relm, who blushed.
“And look at you, boy.”
“Thank you. Edgar right?” Gau replied. Had it been that long? the king thought. He can hardly even recognize me. They were all amazed at Gau. When they had met him, he was walking on all fours, talking like a Neanderthal, dirty all over, and uneducated. Now he was standing tall, obviously better educated, neatly groomed and surprisingly handsome. To respect the Returners, he wore a cap with a nice feather protruding from it and wore his only shoes.
“So, where’ve you been staying, Terra?” Dornim asked.
“Oh, just outside the Narshe area,” she said.
“Narshe?” Setzer asked. “If I’d known, I would have picked you up when I dropped by Mog and Umaro.”
“That’s alright. It’s so good to see you all again.”
“Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”
A few minutes later, a cook came in pushing a trolley. The Band dug into the scrumptious foods. After they had gathered some food, Dornim called for attention, “Now if we’re all ready, I think it would be a good time to start and di—”
Then there was a loud bang as they all looked to the entrance. Sabin Figaro entered the room casually.
“Sabin!” his brother called.
“Oh I give up!” the chieftain said to himself.
“What kept you?” Edgar asked
“I was in the mountains when the message came. Just saw it a little ago.”
“Art thou still playing in yon hills?”
“’Ey, how are you doing, old ‘un?”
“I’d prefer Sir Cyan, if thee please.” Sabin and Cyan were friends from a while back when Sabin enlisted the older one in the Returners. That happened when Kefka murdered Cyan’s family when he poisoned their water supply. Sabin comforted him and guaranteed him a shot at revenge against the crazed general, which he got. Sabin wasted no time digging into the food. He sure ate a lot. It reminded Cyan of how he ate on the Phantom Train six years ago; of course then they thought it might be their last meal ever. “Anyone know how Shadow’s doing?” Edgar asked. The whole reunion fell silent. Edgar felt all eyes on him.
His brother shuffled forward.
“Uh, Ed,” he said, choking a bit. “Clyde’s dead.” The king looked into his brother’s eyes with disbelief.
“No,” he said. “No, he can’t die. How can Shadow die? It’s…it’s impossible.”
“I concur,” Cyan said. “Clyde is not dead. I know!”
“How?” Dornim asked.
“Because I saw him.” There was a murmur throughout the group.
“Saw ‘im, did you?” Setzer said, once again psuedo-sneeringly.
“Yes” Cyan simply said. “I saw him. And Master Clyde was alive and well, I might add.”
Setzer just stared in his disbelief.
“Uh,” Dornim cut in, “sorry to interrupt, but shouldn’t we start discussing the Asassens like we came here to do?”
“That’s right,” Edgar put in, glad for a change in subject. Though in some ways not.
“Well, as my message stated, there is some warrior group who have given us right to believe that they are going to assault possibly the Returners sometime soon.”
“And we have reports of guerrilla groups all around the world that perfectly match King Edgar’s description,” Dornim added.
“Aye,” Setzer said, still eyeing Cyan. “I’ve seen ‘em, too. Raiding the coasts off the Jidoor area. Assuming we’re talking about the same people.”
“So,” Locke spoke up, “what’re we going to do?”
Dornim sighed, “Nothing,” he said reluctantly to everyone’s surprise. “There’s nothing we can do for now.”
“Nothing? Edgar suggested in almost disbelief. “But we could search…”
“Search what?” he countered. “They cover themselves, very nicely I might add.”
Edgar gazed up. Yes, he already knew that, but there had to be something to do.
“Here,” Dornim said, “we can increase police forces and keep our men on look-out, but that’s it Edgar. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry everyone had this long journey for me just to say that. We can discuss it later, with some of my people.” He turned to Edgar again and apologized again.
“Yeah,” the other said, “me, too.”

Chapter VI: Asassen Secrets

“Dammit!” Edgar yelled in the guestroom.
“Hey calm down, brother,” Sabin said. “You heard Dornim, there’s nothing more to do.” Sabin could tell his brother wasn’t going to be satisfied. “For now, just let go.”
“Yeah, I guess,” he conceded. “Well you seem to have matured, Sabin.” he commented, “imagine, you are trying to talk sense into me!” Sabin snorted. Yes, he had been a little “immature” a few years ago. All those years didn’t seem so long ago anymore. “Perhaps it was the death of Duncan,” he said aloud.
Edgar’s emotion turned from cooling anger to a sad disbelief. “Ol’ Master Duncan? Dead?”
“You didn’t know? Oh sorry. Duncan died a few months ago. Old age, I think.”
“But he was in perfect shape, more than perfect.”
“Yeah,” Sabin agreed, “but he was about ninety-two-years-old.”
Edgar had probably only seen Duncan once. Yes he was in great shape then, very big, tall, and a and a huge build. When he had taught Sabin the Bum Rush, he moved fast, swift, and strong so Sabin could barely keep up with him. And now he was gone, so Sabin was the Master. It was a sort of eerie feeling.
“Well at any rate, sleep will help get our minds off of everything.” Hopefully, he thought.

The next morning, Dornim looked out his high room window at the Falcon. The ship of legends, or at least for the past five years. He was seeing in person. Last night he hadn’t paid too much attention to her, but now he realized the overall importance of the airship. “Interesting,” he murmured.
A knock came from his door. “Come in.”
A Returner came in. “Commander, we have urgent news. It concerns those Asassens!”
Dornim hurried to put on his commander’s armor. “Notify the others, ‘specially Edgar.”
“He’s already here,” the king said from outside the doorway.

The Band was already assembling when Dornim got to the war room. “News?” he asked.
“Spies have told us of an outpost in Maranda area,” a colonel replied. “Asassen written all over it.”
“Literally,” Edgar added. “Supposedly ‘Asassen’ is in big red letters on the side.”
“Seems too obvious.”
“That’s why we’re going to investigate, not attack,” Edgar said.
Dornim looked at him with wide eyes. “What?!”
“He devised it before you awoke, sir,” the colonel explained.
“I’m taking a small team to take a look in Maranda,” Edgar said.
Dornim opened his mouth to disapprove, but the look in the other’s eyes made him close it. Like it or not, Dornim knew Edgar was taking control
“Well I have one command,” he said instead. “I’m coming too.” Dornim smiled.
Edgar smiled back. “Your Majesty,” Edgar turned to see Cyan, “thy team is ready.”
Behind Cyan were Terra, Relm, Locke, Sabin, and Gau. He smiled again. “Where’s Setzer?”
“Hey, we don’t all have to come along like one big happy little group,” he was sitting at a table with his feet comfortably up.
Edgar nodded to him. “See you in a day or two then.”

They set on a boat, probably the only time they’d been together like this in four and a half years. Still felt incomplete, though, without Shadow, Mog, Umaro, Strago, or Setzer there.
They arrived at Maranda port. They wasted no time finding the spy. More over, he found them.
“You’re the one who sent the message?”
“Yes,” he answered his commander.
“Which way?” he asked.
“I’ll show ye,” the spy said as he exited the town.
It was obvious. A large fort in the Maranda desert, though far from a town, where the sandstorms usually brewed. Good place for an outpost. Sure enough, the word “Asassens” was written on the side of the fort in big bloody letters.
“Like I said,” whispered Dornim, “too obvious.”
The spy had found an outcropping of rocks close to the fort that was large enough to fit a party of people in. Terra insisted that Relm stay behind, and the spy decided to stay with her.
“Wait just a little bit,” their spy said. “It won’t take too long for a sandstorm to kick in. You’ll have a little bit of cover to sneak in. But be careful, it’s really hard for you to see as well.”

They looked into the fort. There were many Asassens walking about doing their jobs. They wore the same armor they wore when attacking Figaro, Edgar noticed. Heavy enough to cover their identity, with a red poncho with a formal golden ‘V’ on it. V? Edgar thought. Victory possibly? Vengeance? Didn’t matter. Whatever it stood for, it wouldn’t matter, not for long. Vengeance was on Edgar’s mind.
“Let’s go,” he whispered. They lurked through the fort silently. As long as they weren’t spotted, they were fine. Though that was easier said than done. Edgar sighted a door that led into a small hut-like place. He signaled for the others to stay while he snuck to it. He opened the door without a sound, or at least non that could be heard over the other sounds of the fort. He walked in. It appeared to be the office/living quarters for a high-ranking officer. Edgar walked over to a desk where a folder lay. He read the papers that already lay spread on top.
May 1, 5 AFK
Director MacKigg has instructed that the guerrilla attacks on Figaro cease and start on the lands of Doma. These threads of raids will continue until the Leader --the name is kept confidential should this message reach outside hands-- calls off for more reasons, which are kept confidential.

Edgar stopped and put down the paper. Ex-Chancellor MacKigg was working for an even higher power? And one that was being kept secret. Interesting…
Just then he heard the sounds of scurrying footsteps. Then, they stopped. Then shrrriiiing, gasp, more shrrriiiing. Then… Clangclangclangclang!

Locke saw it before the others. Eight Asassens walked up to their hiding place and stopped. They know we’re here, he thought. They drew their swords. Celes, caught by surprised, gasped. Locke, Cyan, and Celes drew their blades. They attacked. Steel against steel. The Asassens were much bigger and stronger than Locke or Celes, but the older man used his great swordsman experience to push them off. Sabin and Gau joined in and, though unarmed, did their share of damage.
Shrrriiiing! Locke looked over to the small hut. Edgar had drawn his sword and was charging them. More Asassens came from the fort. Dornim joined in with his claymore. Locke looked behind him. Terra was standing behind them, a blade in hand that they knew wouldn’t give her much of a chance in the fight. The defenders started to swarm out. “Dornim, Locke,” Edgar yelled, “we have to get out of here. There’s too many of them.”
“How?” Locke countered. “We’re surrounded. Even back at Maranda there aren’t but a small ships worth of Returners.” He looked around. After Kefka’s Tower, how could they go down like this? In a small guerrilla union outpost, fighting for their lives. No! he thought. It’s impossible. At least they all got to see each other, once more. Then, as if a blessing from the skies, the forces stopped. They turned to a new target if only he could get a look of whom…. Oh my!

Shadow!?
Shadow, in his black ninja gi, was standing in the middle of the heavily armored Asassens, swinging his two blades like turbines on a windmill. He caught Terra’s eye. “Run!” he yelled. She opened her mouth to say something, but she could barely croak.
“Run,” Terra said shortly. “Run!” she yelled to the rest of the party. While all the defenders were preoccupied with Shadow, the small party took their chance and ran out of the fort. The spy and Relm were behind the rock and motioned for Dornim and the others.
“Get me a spyglass,” he ordered. The other handed him one, though it wasn’t necessary. They could see clear in the fort if they looked the right way. Though no longer did Terra see Shadow whirling his swords around. She looked at Relm. By the tension and amazement in her eyes, she had already glimpsed her father, Shadow, in the middle of the fray. But now Terra didn’t see him at all. Instead she saw all the Asassens standing above a pinned figure on the ground. About five minutes later, Shadow was captured and strapped onto a pillar. Terra had the urge to get up and run straight into the mass of armor, to help him as he had done her, though she knew it would be useless. They waited… waited.

Locke, Edgar, Sabin, Terra, and Dornim crept closer to the fort. They could see clear inside. The Asassens knelt to one knee. They heard footsteps. They looked up; though the figure was out of their view. He came into their view, though it wasn’t Director MacKigg. An obviously younger man, wearing the same poncho as the rest, but less armor. He had short-cut shimmering blonde hair. Terra got a good look at his eyes. The eyes, the face… there was something familiar about him, she just didn’t know what.
In front of where Shadow was strapped, about thirty feet away, was a large something cloaked by a sheet. The young man walked up to it.
“Mister Shadow,” he said with a sinister voice that didn’t quite match his appearance. It somehow seemed eloquent, deep, similar to Edgar’s in the more articulate moments. “The mercenary assassin. Yes, my father wrote about you. Now I get the pleasure of meeting you.”
“Just get on with it,” Shadow said moodily. “If you’re going to kill, just kill me!”
The other smirked. “But I haven’t introduced myself. I am Vulkrum, leader of the Asassens.”
Vulkrum. The V’s. “Now, as for your request…” he reached over and removed the sheet. Terra could barely hold herself from gasping. It appeared to be a huge laser cannon, similar to the Magitek ones. But that couldn’t be it. Magic is no more; Magitek doesn’t exist. “This,” Vulkrum continued, “is a laser cannon. Though incapable of using the fuels from years past, we’ve created it using steam engines and, let’s say, different forms of machinery.”
Terra looked at the laser cannon, its silver barrel pointed at a slant toward the pillar, a thin iron pipe coming form the top nearer the control panel. She saw some differences between this and the Magitek cannons, though she wasn’t mechanically savvy enough to truly point them out.
Vulkrum smirked. “Shall we test it?”
As he walked to the control panel, Shadow maid a quick move. He wriggled his right arm free of its restraints and pulled out a dirk that was hidden in his gi and threw it at Vulkrum. But it went right past him… and hit the cannon square in the panel. Terra expected lightning and sparks, though nothing happened.
Vulkrum casually pulled out the dirk. He then turned and swiftly threw it back at Shadow. It hit his free right arm, catching the side of his forearm and pinning it to the pillar. His blood dripped to the floor. Terra had never seen Shadow bleed. Or at least had never noticed it before. She saw his eyes, reeking with pain, though he didn’t so much as twitch.
Vulkrum messed with the panel for a few seconds. Then it started making sounds, sounds of machinery, sounds of steam, sounds that reminded her of the Mines of Narshe. Steam streamed from the pipe. The barrel heated up and turned orange, then bright red, then dark. Terra could feel the heat from where she stood. The younger man grinned once more, “Tah-tah!” and pulled the lever.
A yellow-red beam shot from the barrel and shimmed to the pillar. They watched helplessly as Shadow, mercenary, assassin, bounty hunter, friend, and father, disintegrated on the stone pillar.
After the light faded, the pillar lay in crumbles, and Shadow’s corpse was barely recognizable beneath it.
Terra started to scream, but Locke grabbed her arm and pulled her back from the fort.

Chapter VII: Assassin’s Secrets

Sabin was in a fury frenzy at the time. He grunted, yelled, and most of all sobbed.
“Sabin, calm down!” Edgar ordered choking. But it wouldn’t help. Sabin had been the one to find him and bring him to join the Returners. He had the closest relationship of any kind with Shadow, even more than his own daughter. Before he had left to go on his own adventure, Shadow had left a note for them stating he was Clyde Arrowney from Thama, father to Relm—no relation to Strago Magus. All else was unknown. “But… err, oh dammit Edgar!” Sabin couldn’t find the words to express himself. Edgar looked down at his twin brother. “Sabin.” They sat down on Sabin’s bed.
“There was just so much we didn’t know about him,” Sabin said through a lumped throat.
“Well then let’s start with what we do know. He was born Clyde Arrowney and is the father of our dear Relm…”

Meanwhile, Relm and Terra were comforting each other. Relm was bawling, Terra was doing her best not to. Terra sympathized greatly for Relm. The girl had known who her father was for only about four and a half years now. She had lost her grandfather, her mother, and now her father. As if reading her thoughts, Relm looked up and said, “It’s all right, Terra. I’ve still got you and Gau. And now I’ve got Locke, and Celes, and Edgar, and everyone.”
Terra smiled at her positivism. She knew if something like this had happened to her—while she was old enough that is—she wouldn’t be as calm. Of course, Relm only barely knew Shadow anyway. Funny thing was it was Shadow’s dog Interceptor that had gotten the two together. Interceptor she thought, someone has to take care of him. But could anyone do it? How devastated is the dog? Terra had read once that, supposedly, dogs could sense things like their master dying before anyone else. Relm could control him, but was that enough? Shadow…

Dornim gave them all a night of sleep to calm down. Not that he wasn’t saddened by the death of Shadow; he just hadn’t known him much except from when he was still with the Returners. The others, however, had made quite a compatibility with him. Especially Sabin. Dornim wondered how he was taking it. He walked into the war room to see that Cyan was already there. “Couldn’t sleep?”
“Nay,” the other said, “I always get up this early.” Dornim looked up at a clock: 5:23 am.
“How is everyone?” Dornim asked.
“Oh, they are pulling through. Others aren’t taking it as well as some.”
“Like you?”
Cyan nodded. “Aye, like me. I’m sure Sabin does not take it well either. And young Miss Relm and Terra, I heard them crying last night.”
Cyan looked away. Exactly as Dornim had thought. “Well, I thought you would all need the rest.”
“I can tell thou got none at all,” Cyan observed. Dornim nodded.
“A little too much work.”
“Thee seem a bit young to me to be taking control of all this.” He waved around them.
“I’ve thought that before, too.”
“Then why not give command to someone else?”
“Because of my father an—“
“Oh, thy father,” Cyan cut him off. “If thee doth not want the said responsibility, thee don’t have to have it. I know thy father, old Bannon, would want that. Well, if he were here now he would not want his only son to be in such a dilemma over his legacy.”
“Alright then,” the younger man said after a short pause, “I, Dornim Ramah, hand over complete control of the Victory Returners to a Sir Cyan Garamonde of Doma.”
Cyan looked shocked. “Me, Commander?”
“No,” he said, “you commander, me subordinate in thy presence.”
He was awestruck. “How am I supposed to lead all this?”
“Easy, you’re a great leader. You were at Doma,” Dornim reminded him.
“Well yes, but…” Cyan had never had total command over something this big. He served as a ranking officer for the Doman Knights, a retainer, and a governor… but the Returners, as big as they were now and as spread out. He still had his authority in Doma, but he knew that none of the others in Doma’s government really seemed to care.
“But what about King Edgar?” Cyan asked. “He’s more fit, he led the Returners before.”
“He has too much to worry about. He rules an entire kingdom, a big one, and has a family now. And he’s been stressed lately. It would too hard to juggle all these responsibilities around.”
Cyan couldn’t argue that. He let out a reluctant sigh.
“Thee win, young sire. I, Cyan Garamonde, hereby accept command of the Victory Returners.”
There were applause from all around the war room as the Returner officers, who had been in there as well listened in on the private, yet important conversation, recognized their new leader. Cyan smiled. Above all, he heard one that sounded tougher. Dornim and he looked over to see Sabin standing in the doorway.
“Good going, old one,” he congratulated. “Now, I think we should get down to business.”

Cyan stood tall in his new commander’s armor at the front of the war room. Edgar, Locke, Celes, and Setzer had just entered. He wondered where Terra was. Probably with Relm and Gau. Once all the officers were assembled, he started. “Greetings all. I am Commander Cyan Garamonde, thy new leader.”
He winked down at Dornim. “I am to discuss the well-known enemy with thee.” He showed a well-drawn picture of a normal Asassen grunt. “These Asassens are very well skilled, has it seems. And their armor is also grand. As thee all can see, this armor seems near impenetrable. To be blunt, it is, though it is not invulnerable. Simple crevices here and here,” he pointed to the neck and joint sections, “are easy enough to break through. Seems hard, though isn’t. By research, the armor is made of a week metal most likely scavenged from others. The said armor is mainly to intimidate.” He went on about their guerrilla tactics and war plans against them. Cyan must have had this all thought out before he had even spoken to Dornim.
Afterwards, Sabin met up with him. “Good job for your first time, Cyan.”
“Thanketh thee, Sabin. Is there something on thy mind?”
“Yeah. It’s Shadow.” Edgar looked over at them.
“What about Shadow?” Cyan asked.
“Well, before the meeting began the other day, you said you saw him, when we all thought he was dead. What did he say?”
Cyan took a deep breath. “Thou may all want to hear this.”

So Cyan gathered the whole Band and told his tale. “Master Clyde came to my house in Doma,” he told them, “I was awestruck, I thought he was dead. I invited him in though he refused. Instead I gave him some tea out through my window. He told me everything.” He paused.
“He said for me to give his apologies to his daughter, Miss Relm. And to give her this,” Cyan reached into his undergarments and pulled out a golden band on a chain. A Memento Ring. He put it around Relm’s small neck. “Of course, I didn’t know when I would see thee again, but I didn’t tell him that, he seemed in good spirit at the time.” The room was silent still.
“Then,” he went on, “Clyde told me that, for the last five-or-so years, he was traveling around the world, searching for his lost friend. Baram, I believe it was. Anyway, he did not tell me if he was getting close. He told me this though, that he loved his daughter very much, even though he never really knew her. He…,” Cyan broke off. “He was hoping to get the chance after he was done searching,” tears trickled down Cyan’s old face. Just the memory of that day and when he saw Shadow die made him cry. Relm sobbed into Terra’s shoulder, who was in turn crying. Then Sabin, Edgar, Locke, even Setzer shed a tear. Celes and Gau seemed to be the only ones without as much sorrow for their dead companion. And Dornim just felt out of place in the assortment of friends. He felt no real emotion because he never had one in the first place.
“Anyway,” Cyan choked, “I thought thee all should know that.” He and Setzer left while Edgar, Sabin, Locke, and Celes stayed behind in the others’ chamber.

This post has been edited by Sherick on 27th August 2006 02:19

--------------------

I fear my heart and fear my soul
Life goes on, it surely will,
Without me and I wonder:
Will I ever see light again?

Life goes on...

Chapter VIII: Terra’s Dream and the Unusual Alliance

That night, Terra had a rough time sleeping. When she finally did obtain sleep, she dreamed.
It started off like normal, Kefka standing on his pillar, laughing. But this time, she saw him die! He disintegrated into ashes. The mood was considerably better. She remembered the day they had won, the Fall of Kefka. That may have been the most relieving day in her or her friends’ lives.
But then she saw something strange. A house, a mansion really, out not too far from the Tower. The ashes, those unsacred ashes of Kefka, fell in front of it… and regenerated.
He just lay there for a little bit, completely week, all his stamina drained, but he was still alive. He sat up and crawled to the doorway. A woman, middle aged but in good shape, opened it and led him inside. She pampered him, her face a picture of terror, though Terra couldn’t make out what she said.
Finally Kefka spoke, “Where…where is he?” he hissed, not regarding any of the care she was bestowing on him. “Where is he, Mauvi?” Mauvi lead him to a room. She regarded him so casually…
“Kefka, his name is—“
“I don’t care,” he snarled.
He went into the room and looked at the bed. On it slept a boy. The age was unknown, even to Kefka, who looked down at the boy he had ignored for all these years. Kefka brandished something. Magicite. But not just magicite, the magicite. The one Kefka had formed from the countless magicite he obtained, from the countless Espers he had murdered. Weird, it didn’t have any feel, any power to it. He gave it to the sleeping boy. Then he turned. “I need healing! I need a new outfit. I have someone to meet!”
Mauvi jumped and moved frantically to meet his commendations.

In the middle of a thunderstorm, two beings stood opposite from each other on protruding rock formations, one was Kefka. The other, barely illuminated by the lightning, stood in cloak. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite transvestite,” he said. “How may I serve you?”
“You told me to come after I felt the bitterness of defeat. I am here.”
“So you are.” His voice hissed even more than Kefka’s, though he remained steadier. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come. You might go after your defeaters.”
“You know,” Kefka said bitterly, looking about him, “the worst part is watching them celebrate, while you stand by feebly.”
“Oh yes. I know. Tell me this, why so early? I ruled for countless years, Gestahl for decades, you for a year. HA!”
Kefka growled.
“No hard feelings, Kef. And that,” he said sharply, “is coming from me of all people!”
“I should’ve killed you those times. And I will now.”
“Tch-tch. Kefka, Kefka. Do you really think you can defeat me without magic?”
Kefka immediately jerked his head to look at the other. “What? What do you mean? Tell me!”
“After you and the Goddesses ‘died,’ the Espers brought it on themselves to take all the magic and leave the world. Forever!”
“NO!” Kefka yelled in stunned disbelief. “You lie! I-I…!!”
The other laughed amusingly. “You still want to fight?”
Kefka made no answer; instead he pulled out a bident from underneath his cape and jumped at the other. He was ready. He pulled out a sword and did the same. The two stayed in the air for the longest time, slashing and blocking at each other in a surreal motion. They landed on smaller rock formations. Kefka charged again. This time, the other held out his hand and sent and yellow streak of lightning at the warlord.
Kefka, landing back on his formation, hissed, “You lied! You said magic was gone! That was clearly Bolt!”
The other chuckled. “Magic is gone, but who said that was magic?” He shot an unfamiliar blue jet at Kefka, who wasn’t quick enough to dodge. They both landed on the ground. Kefka, wasting no time, threw the bident. The opponent used his strange ability to stop the bident and send it back. Both of the spear-prongs hit Kefka square in the chest.
He fell, but didn’t die. The other walked up to him and impaled his sword next to the bident. More beings in cloaks circled Kefka. They chanted something in another language. Then, Kefka burst into flames.
“Hmph,” the victorious being snorted. “Now you shall burn to ashes, and them to ashes, et cetera. And let those ashes forever be damned!” Kefka screamed as he burned to ashes….

Terra awoke screaming as well. Relm bolted around, a frightened look on her face.

Meanwhile, many, many miles away in the Returner town of Jidoor, the Returners stationed there were under attack… by Asassens. They tried their best, but they were overwhelmed and it was too dark out to hardly even make out the shadowy attackers. The forests surrounding the city gave the Asassens perfect cover in the darkness.
“Fall out!” the colonel yelled to his men. “It’s no use, head for the port!”
They did as instructed. Grabbing provisions and equipment they ran to the vessel waiting at the port. The Asassens gave their victory cries as the Returners started getting ready to leave.
Yeah, live it up, the colonel thought. Just wait; you’ll meet your ends! But when they got to the ship, rather than yielding and celebrating, the invaders continued their progress toward the city.
The Returners were all ready to go to the nearest refuge. “Let’s go!” the engineer yelled.
But as they got ready to sail, dark beings crept onto the other side of the boat. Caught in a sandwich, the Returners kept fighting, but to no avail. The Asassens on one side and the growing number of others from under the water surrounded and slew them. The colonel let a carrier pigeon with a note fly of in the distance, before he himself was killed.

Now the Asassens and the other assailants were approaching each other. The others…not human. They were black-scaled-skinned and had bloodshot eyes. One of them stepped up. “Who is in charge here?” he demanded.
“I am,” Director MacKigg walked to them.
“No, I am!” They all turned to see who was standing at the top of the hill.
“Vulkrum,” MacKigg bowed his head, “I wasn’t expecting you; that was a relatively long trip.”
The younger man shooed the older off. The reptilian creatures moved in an escort position. Another one, shrouded in cloak and taller than the rest, walked through their gap. “You, boy?” he asked.
“Yes, may I ask who you are?”
“Utam Duvaluu za Vector. Or Vector, if you prefer. And these are my subjects. You seem a bit agape. We are Aquadalins, an amphibious race. And you?”
“Vulkrum, commander of the Asassens: Assault System And Self Sentinels Enforcing Needs.”
“Nice to meet your acquaintance.” Vector extended his hand. “I helped you exterminate those pests; I think some gratitude is in order.”
“No funny business,” MacKigg warned. “There are groups of crossbowman who will pump you full of arrows if you or your…subjects do anything!”
Vulkrum wearily shook the other’s hand. Vector grabbed Vulkrum’s arm and pulled him close.
“Let me see,” he said, looking into the young man’s eyes. “That’s very interesting.”
MacKigg ran up to grab Vector, but he was grabbed around the neck and thrown forward… into the wall of arrows fired by the crossbows, accidentally killing their Director.
“Once more,” Vector warned now, still looking at Vulkrum, “and it will be your leader here.” They remained in a ready position but lowered their crossbows slightly.
“What do you want?” Vulkrum asked.
“Truce,” Vector answered simply. “We could merge our two groups and head to do something great, something to topple the Returners, something…”
“You’ve an idea?”
“Only my life’s dream, Vulkrum,” he said dreamily. “We go find the island.”
“Island?”
Vector smiled twisted. “The island that was lost. We have located it, but cannot reach it. You see, underwater there are natural barriers, which we could not cross if we tried, probably. With land dwellers’ help, however…”
“You need our ships?”
“Yes. Imagine, the lost Imperial Island, all ours! I can rule once again, and you, m’boy, can command by me! So, do we have accord?”
Vulkrum considered this. He then smirked his own to show he was not intimidated. “Alright, I’ll help you, Vector.”
They gripped each other’s arms in alliance. The two groups joined together.

Terra was hysterical. She was in bed with the Band gathered around. She had just told them her dream. “Terra,” Edgar said soothingly, “it was only a dream. Kefka died, we saw him.”
“No, it wasn’t just a dream,” she persisted. “It was like a vision.”
“But Kefka had no family.”
“We don’t know that,” Locke put in.
“No, he didn’t,” Celes said. “I worked with him, he—”
She cut of. “What?” her husband asked.
“He did,” she said quietly. “A concubine at least. Gestahl gave him a selection; they were close friends at the time. Terra, what was her name?”
“Uh, Mauvi,” she answered.
“Mauvi,” Celes thought for a moment. “Sounds familiar, but I can’t quite…”
“Well,” Edgar continued, “it’s very, VERY unlikely that he regenerated, Terra.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve seen some weird stuff before.”
“Very true,” he conceded.
“And Kefka was very powerful, not to mention unpredictable, so who knows.”
“Also true.”
“But someone who could still use magic?” Sabin put in. “Come on, Terra, even you can’t use magic with out the Espers…” he knew that was the wrong thing to say before Edgar punched his side.
She didn’t seem to pay much attention. “But that guy said he wasn’t using magic. At least not like the Espers’.”
“But that’s crazy,” Edgar persisted. “There is no other kind of magic in the world. That would be insane. It’s just…”
“That’s it!” Celes blurted out. “I just remembered. Mauvi was one of the Emperor’s wives. He must have given her to Kefka, I never her saw her much anyway.”
“Well,” Terra said, “I couldn’t have just dreamed that, I don’t even know who Mauvi is to begin with. There’s something odd going on.”
No one could argue that point.
“Well, either way, it is a little insane,” Edgar went on, “considering we did kill him.”
“That’s what I thought, Edgar,” she said a little sharply, “but that’s what I saw. And I think it means something; something bad.”
“Aye,” Cyan said.
No more needed to be said. Just then, a soldier ran through the door. “Commander Garamonde!” he yelled. It took a few seconds to notice he had just run in on a personal gathering. “Oh, er, sorry. Er— am I interrupting anything?”
“Nay,” Cyan said. “We were just finished.”
“Well, we just received a carrier pigeon from the station at Jidoor.”
“And?”
“And, well…”

Vulkrum and Vector with all their crews sailed on huge vessels, stolen from smugglers, sailors, Returners, and anyone else who got that close. Vulkrum manned the flagship while Vector stood at the helm, awaiting the appearance of the mysterious island. Vulkrum stared at Vector. The eeriness of the amphibian race still grasped him. But he wouldn’t show intimidation of any kind toward the older one. That was showing him sign of weakness, which he had none of.
“How much farther, old one?” he called out across the ship.
Vector didn't seem to want to let the age comment go easily. “Not much, kid.”
“You said that a couple hours ago.”
“Well, we’re closer now, I’ll say that.”
Vulkrum rolled his eyes, but continued to control the wheel. He was very good at sailing now. After these years, it seemed, of attacking guerrilla style then running to the closet encampment, and most of times stealing a vessel to go across the seas to safety, it was hard not to be. He was also a great swordsman and overall warrior. He could defeat any of the much older Asassens in combat with ease, which was why the young man was in their lead. Things such as the laser cannon were created by the small amount of inventors—or “scientists” as they liked to be called—that the organization had to offer.
He looked around. These large bands of Aquadalins were all wiry and muscular, probably good fighters in either armed or unarmed combat. And there were even more swimming under the ships. At the speed Vector had insisted on going, it was a wonder they could keep up like that. And they could breathe underwater, a nice trait. They would be great as allies, but better as servants. But Vector…he would never. It was that moment many thoughts went through Vulkrum's head...
“Okay, slow,” he called, breaking Vulkrum’s train of thought. “We’re coming up on the barrier.”
He looked up ahead. A gathering of rock was indeed blocking anyway of crossing underwater, but the real barrier, at least to Vulkrum, was a haze like clouds on the other side. “Vector! We can’t possibly—”
“Get us through the fog,” he interrupted with no room left to argue.
Vulkrum, almost reluctantly, took the boat into the haze. He immediately became blinded by the close-up fog. Like a sheet of smoke it clogged up his vision. He couldn’t see six feet from him.
“Is it always like this?”
“Oh yes,” he heard Vector’s voice call back. “Always. Like a curse.”
“Then how can we possibly get across?”
“Just keep manning best you can,” was what he received. “Another two hours about. Maybe one if we’re quick.”

As Vector said, it was an hour and a half later that the fog cleared. Vulkrum let a sigh of relief.
“Almost, my friend,” Vector said.
He looked up ahead. An island was forming over the water. As they got closer, Vulkrum made out a large structure over it. About a mile away. Half a mile. Quarter mile. The flagship’s helm hit the land. The structure was a large yet ruined temple-like palace, with what used to be a city around it.
Vector jumped off the boat. “Vulkrum, m’boy,” he said proudly as he smiled likewise, “welcome to Vector!”

Chapter IX: Vector

After hearing the news about the invasion in Jidoor, the Returners were paying close attention to smaller things, such as Terra’s dream about Kefka.
“Terra,” Cyan said to her, “doth thee remember where Kefka’s house was?”
“Yes, it was relatively close to the Tower.”
“But Terra,” Locke said, “we flew all around the Tower before, we would have noticed a mansion in the middle of nowhere.”
“Well, maybe he put a spell on it,” she said. “You know, to make it invisible, so no one would know.”
“Well, we could go look,” Cyan suggested. “To see if yon mansion even exists.”
Edgar came to where the three were talking. “What’s going on?”
“We’re going to see if Kefka’s house is where I think it is,” Terra answered.
“Reasonable,” Edgar said, with less reluctance than they would have expected. “It’d be the best course to see if the dream was real or not.”
“It’s a fair ways away,” Locke said. “How’d do we get there?” Over the years the area that used to be Kefka’s Tower had been overrun by monsters, no one else wanting to live in the accursed lands of the madman.
Then, as if cued, Setzer joined them. “What’s up? Uh, why is everyone looking at me?” he asked when they stared at him. Then they looked at each other and grinned.

The Falcon was the same as it had been five years ago. Like a large boat with one large hot-air balloon to keep it airborne, had six large propellers on the sides to do the same, and two bigger ones in the back to make it go forward. A huge wooden deck with rails all around and a slot machine for a control system, and under it was the “casino.”
An assortment of blackjack, poker, and craps tables lined the ship. Several different rooms used over the years with the Returners for quarters also, along with a master engine room. This airship had once belonged to Daryll, Setzer’s close friend and lover. She and Setzer had created the first known airships, Falcon and Blackjack, and were also both well-known and very lucky gamblers, hence the “casino.”
Celes could remember when they first met Setzer, six years ago. He was going to gamble the Blackjack’s assistance for matrimony to Celes. She had won by using Sabin’s Figaro Brothers coin with two heads to win the coin toss. Rather than being mad, Setzer had just smirked and made some crack about losing the ability to gamble. Sounded cheesy at the time, but now she understood what he had meant.
It felt comfortable to be back in the airship. “Welcome aboard,” Setzer said when they had all made themselves at home. “Just like old times, eh?”
He then headed up to the deck. They heard the engines pop on and the propellers twirl. Celes got goosebumps of excitement from the thought of flying again. She felt the ship lift off the ground, and then push forward. The feel of flight was exhilarating, something Celes had not experienced for a while. Though the treasure hunts with Locke had their fun, nothing beet flying in the familiar airship.
She noticed Sabin, Edgar, and her dear husband at a card table, setting up for a game of what seemed poker. She walked over. “Okay,” Edgar said, “let’s have a little fun, shall we?”
Sabin shuffled some cards. “Okay, let’s. What do we bet?”
“How about 300 gold to start?” Locke suggested. Celes thought about that. Three hundred was a lot for what the two had right now, even though the Figaros probably could let that much slip. Locke looked up. “Hey, doll. I’m going to get us some big money.” He winked.
She nodded understandably. She then walked behind Edgar.

As the game went on, the brothers got weary of Celes and Locke’s cheating method. Celes would look at Edgar’s hand; Locke would quickly look to her, she signaled with her head, and then used the right methods to win the game. They had now won 2600 GP in this game.
Before they could raise steaks and become filthy rich, Setzer yelled down the entryway, “Get ready, we’re approaching the Hell Hole. I’m about to land.”
The three put the playing cards away and got up. Celes hugged Locke as she looked at the gold points on his side of the table. “Locke, I really love you.”
Upon leaving they looked out to the so-called “Hell Hole.” A barren area that had once been the site of Kefka’s Tower. Ruins of the unholy fortress were barely visible through the clouds of dust and debris that had never ceased flying for five years. The scarred lands were filled with monster nests—the only beings that dare get so close to the tower. The land was deformed, seemingly impossible to establish a home the size of what Terra had described.
Celes covered her eyes from the debris in the air, as did everyone else.
“Let’s look around,” Setzer yelled. The house must have obviously been impossible to see from the air.
It was hard to see ten feet in front of you, somewhat because the ground all looked the same. How am I supposed to find a house, even a mansion in this? she asked herself.
After what seemed like hours, Celes stopped and sat down. She tried to look for Locke or Edgar or Terra, or anyone to remind her she wasn’t alone in the Hell Hole. Just as she was about to go back and search for the others, Locke ran through the never and grabbed her arm.
“Celes, c’mon,” he said.
“What?”
“Setzer just spotted it, the house that is.”

Vulkrum looked up and gawked at the huge ruins of Vector. Huge, burned structures with great brick carvings and what seemed to be banners, burned and charred through whatever had done this to the big area. He looked over to Vector; the Aquadalin was obviously enjoying himself. He looked at the structures and smiled with pride.
Vulkrum and his Asassens walked through the streets along with the Aquadalins. Whatever had destroyed the community had really left a toll. Holes in the middle of the large structures still looked as fresh as the day they were put in there.
“What happened here?” Vulkrum asked. “What is this place?”
“Oh, it’s hard to start, my young friend,” Vector said dreamily. “The best way to put it is this is the place that started it all. The place where empires started. Where legends started.”
“Hey,” something had been on Vulkrum’s mind, “do the town and you have something together? I mean—”
“By our names,” Vector finished. “Yes. This town was named in my honor. I created this place, I ruled this empire, I created history.”
“Then how come I’ve never heard of any of this?”
Vector chuckled deeply. “You’ve heard enough. Most kids haven’t heard of this. Most adults either.” He sighed. “I guess it’s just as well.”
“What good could’ve come out of here?”
“Oh, enough. I haven’t seen this place for so long, I wouldn’t be surprised to see it in such bad shape. Though I’ve heard that Espers attacked this place sometime.”
“Well, I don’t really care about your glory days or your little history so let’s just move on.”
Vector walked to the largest structure in the town, what appeared to be a ruined palace. He sighed longingly. He turned to look at his younger companion.
“Vulkrum, would you like to help me create history in this place yet again?”
Vulkrum smirked. “That sounds like fun.” The two grabbed each other’s forearms and squeezed in a friendly gesture.

They made their way into the palace and into the main foyer. The palace had been made of a heavy metal and in a very regal way. The long red carpets that lay on the floor and doorways had obviously once been brilliant but were now wore and ruined by moths. Half-disintegrated portraits hung on the walls of all corridors and foyers.
Vector and Vulkrum, followed by a small number of their own men, ascended up the stairways to the throne room. It was a long and rather narrow room with one long red carpet, somehow more regal and more splendid than the others in the palace were. At the end was a single throne, tall with a noble yet sinister metallic style to it.
Vector walked hastily up to it and admired it. He got on his knees and stroked the rusted silver armrests with an open mouth. He patted the red cushions. Vulkrum walked over to try to see what the Aquadalin was so amazed at.
“’Tis just an old chair,” he said disapprovingly. “Rusted over and all.”
“Oh, ho-ho,” Vector chuckled. “’Tis not just an old chair. This is my throne! The throne!”
“Still just an old chair.”
Vector turned and looked at him with slightly watered eyes. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re too young to understand. It has to do with honor and pride.”
“I know what honor means,” Vulkrum snapped.
“Do you? Do you really? Well let’s see you rise to greatness and then fall to where you are the lowest life on Earth. Then you’ll know of honor, and of pride.”
Vulkrum took in those words. “So,” he said at last, “are you going to just sit there, gawking at some old chair, or are you going to show me your ‘honor’?”
Vector chuckled. He then rose up and turned to his men.
“This is a great day in history. You will forever remember this, even you, m’young friend. This is the day…” he slowly sat in the throne.
“This is the day,” he said lower, “that Vector made his second rise to power. I hereby proclaim myself, once again, Emperor!”

Terra looked at the huge mansion-styled house. It didn’t quite strike as the home to such a disturbingly insane warlord such as Kefka. It was, however, hard to believe that someone would live in the Hell Hole area, even before the Tower fell.
She walked up to the front door with Setzer, Edgar behind them. Setzer used the rusted and ruined golden doorknocker and banged loudly three times on the door, though meaninglessly. After a few more knocks, they confirmed that there were no more occupants, and opened the door and entered.
Without a lantern or light of any kind, the front foyer was only barely lit by the almost blanketed sun outside. A few moments later, Locke and Celes joined them. As they ventured farther, the light became scarce. Setzer turned around.
“Someone go and get a lantern from the Falcon.”
So Locke went off to the airship. The four others wandered until there was no more light to see with. They waited.
Then a light came that made them shield there eyes. Locke appeared with a lit lantern that illuminated the room, showing what seemed to be a sort of parlor. Just as the house itself, it did not seem like the living area of a deranged maniac to Terra.
“We still have no proof that this is actually Kefka’s house,” Edgar said. “We must search around so that we can prove this.”
They split up and searched the close-by rooms. It seemed like several minutes later when Terra heard Locke.
“Hey, Ed, look at this.”
Edgar and she gathered toward the lantern light. “What is it?”
“The world’s biggest bong.”
He came into the light, showing him carrying a huge smoking bong, about the size of a short human being.
“What the hell?” Edgar said. “Kind of figures though.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t prove anything,” Terra pointed out.
“Proves what I knew all along,” Locke said.
Terra hit him on the arm, making him drop the bong on the floor with a loud thud.
“What the hell was that?” Celes yelled from somewhere else.
“Nothing, sweetie,” Locke answered. “Find anything?”
“Anything that gives us proof?” Terra added.
“Well come here,” she called.
Edgar grabbed the light as they continued down the hall, where they went up a flight of stairs, then another. As they went, Celes’s echoing voice guided them along.
They finally came to the top and met Celes. “What is it?” they asked in unison.
She further guided them down the corridor. Up in the higher levels the sun shown through the windows, giving precious daylight. Celes found the room she was investigating earlier when Setzer met them from the opposite hallway.
They went into the room where Celes showed them a huge wardrobe.
“I still don’t get it,” Edgar said.
In answer, Celes opened the wardrobe. Terra almost had to shield her eyes. The clothes were all bright glittery green and red, with many plumes and fur attached.
“Yeah, that’s proof,” Locke said, shielding his eyes.
They assumed this to be one of Kefka’s rooms and set down the lantern. Setzer found a picture book. He made sure no one looked as he opened it up. As he did his eyes widened and he let out a few giggles.
Terra went up to see it. “What is this?” She grabbed it from him as he yelled for her to stop.
“Oh!” she yelled
Celes and Edgar came up to look. It was a book with offensive pictures of attractive nude women.
Terra kicked him in the leg. Edgar leaned over. “Maybe I should take this, just in case.”
Celes smacked him hard on the head with the book. “You’re married.”
She caught Locke with a freezing glare as he laughed at his friend. “And so are you, so shut up!”
She then through the book out of a window.

Chapter X: Rise of Power

Sabin wandered around the barren Hell Hole, lost and confused. It had been seemingly hours since he had seen anyone. Now he didn’t even know how far away from the Falcon he had gone. He could somehow sense that everything was all right, but yet, he felt uncertain.
He stopped as he heard something. He looked over his shoulder and saw a Lunaris wolf behind him. For a moment he was taken aback, but then he smiled. It had been a while since Sabin had fought a monster. The wolf barred its teeth as Sabin stretched. The wolf attacked, but Sabin dodged and elbowed it in the back of the skull. It fell and Sabin grabbed and snapped its neck.
He wiped his hands. Pity, he thought, I rather enjoy fighting for life again. As if an answer to his wish, another Lunaris jumped at him and bit his ankle. He punched the wolf’s skull and another jumped at him.
Damn, he thought. I must be close to a Lunaris pack cave. It was hard to see, but he had counted four wolves on him now. He fought against them with a quick ease. He hadn’t fought against monsters in about two years now.
He heard a kawing sound and looked up to see a small flock of osprey. They charged at him. He jumped up and did an uppercut to the first one. He stayed in the air as two accidentally flew under him.
He made a long swift kick that knocked them both to the ground. But while he started to land, two ospreys dove and used their sharp beaks to slash Sabin’s sides.
Sabin fell to the ground. He felt his head thud hard down. He expected the monsters to take this opportunity to try to finish him off, but when nothing happened he looked up. He had to rub his eyes.
Cyan was slaying all the wolves and ospreys with his saber. Sabin helped himself up.
“How you doing, old man?” he called.
Cyan smiled, then quickly swung his sword at a diving bird. “Oh, just fine, young Sabin.”
Sabin himself smiled. He had always known Cyan as a no-nonsense kind of man, not one to joke about anything and always serious about his words. Seldom would he crack a joke or a humorous smile.
He snapped out of his thought and jumped to help his old friend. “Lot of bloody beasts, art there, Sabin?” Cyan asked.
“Yeah. You see, this is why it’s great being back together. You can’t find times like these everyday unless you’re a Returner.”
Cyan looked at his companion and gave a half-smile then turned back to the enemies. Then they heard a loud stomping. All the Lunaris ran away. Cyan dropped the saber just a little to relieve pressure.
Through the flying dust, sand, and debris they saw a huge shadow. As it came through, Sabin saw it was a reptilian Chitonid. Sabin gave a big sigh. After all that, we don’t need this. I shouldn’t have asked for the monsters.
“Allow me,” Cyan said. He straightened his saber and yelled as he charged it and impaled the beast on his blade right in the chest. Blood spewed out, but the Chitonid just screeched and head butted the old man.
Sabin ran forward and put one hand over the other, pointed them at the monster, and yelled,
“Blitz Aurabolt!!” A brilliant silver beam shot out of his hands. When it faded away, so did the Chitonid’s head.
Cyan came forward and pulled out his sword. “Nice work, Sabin. Thou hath slain a big beast, and after being so tired.”
“Well, you were in trouble.”
“Bah,” Cyan waved his hand. “I am never in trouble. I am a head knight and am now commander of the Victory Returners and…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Sabin cut him off. “Don’t tell me after all that that you—”
“What?” Cyan asked when Sabin stopped. Sabin was staring at the thick cloud of dust.
Cyan looked over as well. His mouth dropped open. The shadow behind it wasn’t as big or as fearsome as the Chitonid, but much worse. It was the silhouette of Kefka.
Three seconds later, the cloud broke apart and a being jumped out at them. They both jumped back.
But to their relief it was only Setzer. “There you are! We found the house and found some evidence. What’s wrong with you? Looks like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

On board the Falcon, Cyan and Sabin told them the whole story. After a few moments of thought, Edgar said, “It was probably a hallucination. You guys were tired, probably hot, and hungry, and had just fought a big battle.”
“No,” Sabin insisted, “it wasn’t. I don’t hallucinate. It was real!”
“You know,” Setzer said, “they say there’s some kind of curse or something here. Maybe there are these ‘Kefka shadows’ all the time.”
“Sounds reasonable,” Locke said. He looked at Edgar, who looked at Sabin.
He sighed. “Yeah.”

Vector wore his tunic proudly. He stood in front of the old but newly polished mirror as an Aquadalin dressed him a ceremonial cape. Another then came and showed him a sword.
“No, no,” he said. “That is saved for the actual presentation. Just hold on to it.”
The servant did as he was told and sheathed the blade. Vector rose up from his chair, the chair. He exited the throne room…to look at his kingdom.
Hundreds of Aquadalins had gathered, Vector’s own personal army. Also with the amphibious creatures where the Assault System And Self-Sentinels Enforcing Needs. The destructed city around them seemed to gleam more brightly. As Vector approached the terrace overlooking the city, they all went silent as adrenaline pumped.
He inhaled. “My people, Aquadalin and human alike, I am now to announce that I shall no longer be a lord of the seas nor the captain of an abandoned race. I now will proclaim myself, Emperor!
“This,” he swept his hand across the ruined town, “will be our capital, you shall be my subjects! And this shall be our Empire!” he lifted a globe of the World of Ruin into the air.
The whole city rumbled with the loud cheer, “Long live Vector! Long live Vector! Long live Vector! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!”
Vector smiled. He signaled for the servant to come forward from behind him. But when Vector turned around, Vulkrum was standing behind him, with the old sword, unsheathed.
He walked up to him and whispered in one ear, “I’m not to be another chump worker." Then, more dangerously, "I have pride, and you won't take that away.”
Vector chuckled. “But of course not, me friend.”
He turned back to the city, while they still chanted. “My people. I am now to announce that Vulkrum is to be Commander Supreme of my Empire!”
They yelled louder, this time with much more enthusiasm from the Asassens, now having their leader in command of an empire. Vulkrum kneeled to Vector and presented his sword.
“Nay,” Vector said. “The sword is yours.”
Vulkrum stood up stiff. “Yes, my Emperor.” Behind him, the servant came up with a velvet red pillow, and on that pillow was an old yet shining crimson crown. Vulkrum lifted it up, and placed it on Vector’s incredibly thin-hair head.
The crowd cheered louder. Vulkrum led the chant this time.
“Long live Vector! Long live Vector! Long live Vector! Hurrah! Hurrah!!”

The Falcon returned to the Returned Isle. Returners escorted them to Dornim’s quarters.
“I hope you found something good,” Dornim said with a hard voice.
“Sort of,” Edgar said. “We found the house like Terra said, and found some proof that it belonged to Kefka. Something wrong?”
“This!” he handed Edgar a parchment. “A pigeon brought it to us. Obviously one of our regents.”
They gathered around to try and read it. “We have sited….” Edgar mumbled, “and it seems…. wait. Wait! What?”
“What?” Locke asked.” He took it.
Commander Dornim Rama (he obviously hadn’t gotten word of Cyan’s takeover)

We have been camped around the Zozo area for a good month now. We never saw anything suspicious…until now. Just two days from right now, a large ship came in from the south, a Returner vessel, but Returners weren’t manning it. Aside from the unknown crew, it was being accompanied by some form of sea creatures, who followed it into a never-ending haze of fog. We sent a ship in after it, but it turned around after going in too far. The enemy vessel was never seen, though we never found evidence that it has sunken. We would like to investigate.
“What the—” he said. “What does this mean?”
Dornim handed him a second parchment.
Commander Rama

In addition to our last message, we have noticed a light from the fog. We once again followed it in through the never. On the other side was an unidentified island. Though we are not sure where it came from, it appears to have been settled on before. It had many ruined structures, and the same people who hijacked the vessel were gathered around. It appears that on top of a palace like structure, one being who was an obvious leader gave a speech, right before another man came up. This may sound disturbing but the leader, as well as most of the audience, was inhuman, so to say. I won’t go into that. Another disturbance is……… this creature, declared himself the new “emperor” and the human the “supreme commander.” This is what our investigation has brought us to.

Locke dropped it and looked at Dornim, his face quizzical. “What does that mean?”
“It means that there’s a new Empire,” Dornim said darkly. “Not a huge one, but its there nonetheless.”
“What do we do?”
“That’s up to the commander.” They turned back to Cyan.
He sighed. “First I want to send a party to the Hole to investigate yon mansion. Second, I want the Returners to stay up about anything suspicious. And lastly, I shall go the Zozo area; I want to see this ‘disturbance’ myself. If anyone wants to cometh with me, I’d be more than glad to have thee.”
Edgar stepped up. “I’ll go with you.”
“As will I,” Sabin came up behind him. Then Terra, Celes, and Setzer.
“This is my party.”
“What about you, Locke?” Dornim asked. “What will you do?”
“I volunteer to lead the group at Kefka’s,” he answered. “Someone needs to help investigate there. Ow.” Celes flicked his ear.
“You are not going anywhere NEAR those damned magazines, Locke Cole!”
“Sorry, old boy,” Cyan smiled. “Guess thou art stuck with us.”
“What about the children?” Dornim asked. He looked at Terra.
“Me?”
“You’re their guardian.”
“I guess the best thing to do is…” she hesitated. “The best thing to do would be to send them home, they’ll be safe there.”
“Well, your word is final, I’ll send someone to take them.”
“And, of course thou will be in charge of things here, Dornim,” Cyan said.
“Of course.”

Once again, Setzer fired up the Falcon. “With as much as I’ve been landing and lifting today, I’m gonna need to get some more fuel for the hot air.”
“Just let Locke and Edgar start having a conversation,” Celes commented as he walked off to get prepped. “They could get us all around the world three times without landing.”

Chapter XI: The First Battle

Vulkrum’s army set up on the vessels that had been gathered from the outside Aquadalins and Asassens. He walked up and down the ranks, with his new—old really—emeraldish body armor presented by Vector. It had supposedly belonged to some big general so many years ago, and had been considerably well preserved.
“Gentlemen,” he said to all of them, “it is now time for the Imperial Army to make its first attack against the Victory Returners. No longer are we some hit-and-run guerrillas, but a powerful, undefeatable army. None shall be better. We must earn that. Now get your asses on the boats and get to land!”

The Falcon flew over the Miranda and Jidoor regions.
“About 100 miles more till Zozo,” Setzer called from the slot machine-like control panel.
Locke could see Zozo. Anyone could from miles away. It was massively overcast day and night, everyday, without stop. It seemed surreal to see a bright sky with a small cluster of storm cloud hanging over one mountain range. The airship turned to go around the storm; it was too dangerous to go through.
“Something’s not right,” Terra said.
Locke looked at her. “What?”
“I said something’s not right.”
“How can you tell?”
“I just…can,” was all she said.
“Well, whatever it is,” Setzer said, “we’ll have to wait to actually see what it is, these clouds are impossible.”
A clash of thunder made Locke jump. I hate Zozo, he thought. From the ground and the air. It was bad enough when we had to deal with Gigas, Dancers, and that stupid Dadluma, but the clouds up here…
“Almost there,” Setzer called. “Once we clear this mountain, we’ll be in position of the encampment.”

Terra looked down, eyes wide and mouth open. “No way.”
The Returners that were positioned there were battling with attackers who had come across in boats. “Land it!”
“I am!” Setzer yelled back. “Give me a bloody minute. Its hard to land this thing that quickly with so little land, y’know.”
As Setzer landed the Falcon in the mountains, Terra watched, as the Returners were barely able to fight back against the overwhelming numbers. Not only were there many attackers from the boats, but also seemingly infinite, terrible-looking aquatic beings were coming up from the sea. Just the ones that had been described.
Once the airship finally landed, Locke, Terra, Setzer, and Celes jumped out of the ship. Edgar, Cyan, and Sabin came up from the staircase to the deck and followed likewise.
They ran into the battlefield to do their part. The attackers from the sea had been taken by surprise by the new intruders. One of the Returners ran up to them. “K-k-king Edgar? Sir Garamonde, Lady Celes? Wh-wh-what-?”
“Long story,” Edgar said shortly. “Who’s in charge?”
“I am, who’s—”
“That is me,” Cyan answered. “What happened here?”
“They just came outa nowhere. And then these creatures…we’re having a hard time staying alive. I’m so glad you’re here. Though I’m a little confused.”
“Long story,” Cyan repeated, “I shall explain it to thee later. Now we must fight.”

What in the hell? Vulkrum asked himself. He stood at the bow of his flagship.
“Get me a spyglass,” he barked. One of his crewmen presented him with one. He looked to land.
It is! He thought. Those people from Maranda, they narrowly escaped. He smirked.
“Not this time. Bring the ship up to land, I have some business.”

“Look!” Terra pointed to the sea where the flagship was coming to land. “Look who it is!”
Locke looked to it. He squinted. “Is that…the guy from the Maranda? Vulkrum? The one who—”
“Killed Shadow,” Edgar finished. “Yes it is. That means that these are the Asassens.”
“What about the fish things?”
Edgar sighed. “I don’t know where they came from.”
“We saw them on the ruined island,” the Returner said. “Did you get our report?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Well,” Sabin said as he stretched, “let’s get in on the fun.” He ran through the ranks.
“That big oaf,” Edgar said with his head in his hand.
“Let’s get in,” Setzer repeated.

Vulkrum jumped down from the bow onto the shores. He saw the big muscular one charging. He smiled. “Yes, come to me, meathead. Feel my steel.” He drew his blade.

Cyan fought against the Asassens again with expert skill. One jumped up behind him. Just in time, Setzer threw a razor-edged card right into an opening in his visor. Cyan looked to his friend. Setzer winked at the old man.
Sabin fought through best he could with some Blitz techniques. Though he was unarmed, his strength and expertise of the skill worked just as good. He was going through fine…
Then out of nowhere, a steel blade slashed through Sabin’s shoulder. He fell to his knees and grabbed his shoulder. Blood was dripping down. He looked up into Vulkrum’s eyes. He smiled in a sick and twisted way as he raised his sword high.
Sabin quickly used his good arm and punched Vulkrum hard in the groin. It took the wind out of him. He dropped his sword and fell to his knees. “You…bastard.”
Sabin got up and was about to attack Vulkrum again, but too many Asassens came his way. He just ran. Edgar covered him along with a few other Returners.
“Are you okay?” Edgar asked his brother. He nodded. Edgar hit him in the back of the head.
“What was that for?”
“For being headstrong and stubborn. You could have been killed!”
“But I wasn’t,” Sabin reminded him with a smirk. Edgar just looked speechlessly at him. He cracked a smile as a medic dressed the wound.

“Dammit, get away from me!” Vulkrum yelled at the men trying to help him. “We can still win this. Let’s go!”
As it seemed, the new reinforcements had done enough to help the outcome of the battle. They were greater fighters than he had thought. He had to give all of them, even the big ox, some respect. But respected or not, they were enemies of war.
War. Vulkrum thought on that for a moment. Yes, they were at war now, war against the Victory Returners. But if it were war, he would need a much bigger army.
He shook the thoughts from his head. He just had to worry about this battle for now.
“Let’s go!”

Locke held his own against them, the Asassens. He thought he was doing well, but just looking at Cyan, Setzer, or Edgar discouraged him. Even Celes seemed to be doing better than he. But they were winning, so it didn’t matter that much. He looked behind him. Terra refused to fight anymore, she may have even forgotten how. So now he had to protect her.
Just thinking that brought back some old memories. “Locke.”
Celes came up to his ear. “You go ahead and watch over her, I’ll take care of this.”

The Returners were winning. It was obvious; just those seven intruders had turned the tables. But that could be changed. It could all be changed, oh-so easily…
Celes was the first to see it. The trees and brush behind them was rustling. There was someone in there. She approached it with her sword up. “Come out, you cowards!” She didn’t even see it. Five men jumped out of the brush and grabbed her by the arms and neck. She tried to call for Locke, but could barely squeak it. One of them put a finger to her mouth. “Shhhhhh.”
The falchion was taken from her and her hands were bound. The one who seemed to be in charge got close to her ear.
“I’ll play with you later, now we have a battle to win.” He hit her and threw her against a tree. “See ya later, sweetheart.”

Locke did his best to stay close to Terra and attack at the same time. Someone came up behind him and hit him hard on the head with a club. He dropped to the ground and held his head.
Terra yelled, then one of the intruders grabbed her mouth. “Lookie here, two of ‘em! We can have some fun tonight!”
“Two?” Locke demanded, it took a few moments for his mind to refocus. “What did you do to Celes?”
The leader got a sword and put it to Locke’s throat. “You are in no position to demand.”
Locke was clubbed again, this time rendering him unconscious.

“Sir!” the Returner captain yelled to Cyan. “Someone’s coming from behind us!”
Cyan looked at Setzer. “Might we go take a look?”
They snuck out as inconspicuously as they could towards the wooded area behind them.
They barely missed one man with a huge sword who jumped down. Cyan quickly ran him through. “That’s one. Anyone else feel that they should show thy faces?”
Blades from all sides met them. “Hm,” Setzer nodded, quickly counting nine. He expertly threw cards, killing five. “Now there’s only four,” he said in a mocking voice.
“Now just give up,” Cyan said. “Don’t make me have to kill all of thee.”
After some hesitation, all four blades fell and the attackers came up with their hands above their heads.
“Now, tell us exactly who thou art.”

Vulkrum looked once again through a spyglass. He smiled. They had reinforcements! The tables had once again turned. “We have won,” Vulkrum whispered. “We have won.”
“We have won!” he yelled to his crew. They cheered.

“We have to retreat,” the captain said to Edgar and Sabin. “They keep on coming up.”
“All right, let’s go find the others.”

Cyan managed to save Terra and Locke, and after some more interrogation, found and freed Celes. Edgar came to them, and though they had had their run of luck, Cyan and Setzer agreed to the order.
For the first battle in what seemed to be an upcoming war, they had lost.

Chapter XII: Mog’s Tale

At Vector, members of the new Imperial Army drank and partied. Vulkrum smiled. They deserved it. He turned back around in to his table to look the man in the eye. He had lead the group who had made a surprise attack against the Returners. He was grimy, dirty, unhygienic, and had a menacing look on his face. He had not yet touched the food that had been presented to him.
“You have given me and my men a victory, and the pleasure of knowing that we won against the top military leaders in the world,” Vulkrum said. “Tell me, why did you do it?”
“It’s rather simple really,” he said in his gravely voice. “Me an’ my mates have been starvin’ for a long time. Not fer this here food you gave to me, but fer blood. The bloody Returners are jus’ an ole washed-up crew of militan’s who think that they can control ever’thin’.”
“I see.” In other words, brainless radicals. “So you thought it right to help us win.”
“We’s thought it right to kill Returners. Though I lost several goo’ men.”
“We can make up for that.” Vulkrum waved his hand and someone came up to him with a bag of gold. “Twenty hundred GP.”
He looked at the bag. “We are havin’ some emotional difficulties ’ere…”
Vulkrum showed him another, smaller, bag of gold. “This is a token of my appreciation.”
He took them both. Vulkrum liked him already.
“And me and the Emperor would also be thrilled to have you as a part of our army.”
The man looked at him. “Of course, we’d probably pay you for it.”
“Sir, we’s ‘ould be happy to come aboard.”
Vulkrum shook his hand. “I never got your name. Mister.….”
“Klee’on. Klee’on Rama.”
“Well, enjoy your meal, Mr. Rama.”

Mog looked at the mountains surrounding Narshe. He had been here for four years, he was now sixteen, and he had to act responsibly and calmly, much against his normal character. But he still felt like an eleven-year-old boy inside. All these years he had spent trying to rebuild the mines so that people would come back. It had worked. The town had a working population, not a big one, but a population nonetheless. Of course, that may also have some to do with Umaro the Yeti.
Mog was now the last existing Moogle, the small, white-furred beings that used to take up a large population of the mine areas. They were all killed from massive cave-ins caused by Kefka. Mog shivered. He hated that name. The only reason Mog survived was because he had been on the Blackjack when that had happened.
Returning to Narshe had been a dreadful experience, finding his friends, his family, anyone who he had cared for, all dead. But when he found that the rest of the Band had survived, all seemed better. And now, he and Umaro where in charge of recreating the town.
Speak of the devil…
“Good morning, Mog,” the white furred sasquatch said.
“Kupo, Umaro.”
Umaro was almost seven feet tall, but was only nine-years-old. Mog had taught him to speak better, though his Human Speech was far from perfect. Mog himself learned from the wise esper Ramuh.
Umaro walked up beside him. He towered over the Moogle.
“What er you luking at, Mog?”
“Just the hills, Umaro,” he answered. “Everything seems peaceful. Beautiful. After all this time…”
“Weez done a good job, huh Mog.”
“Yes.” They had turned the wretched, monster-ridden mines back into a nice, habitable town where the coal could someday be mined again.
The young Yeti seemed to read his mind. “Now weez can starts to mine agin, cain’t we Mog?”
“Yes we can. Soon I’ll try to see how far the mines can go still. More people will come to Narshe for that. Then, we assign a mayor, and our job will be complete.”
“Gee, yer so smart, Mog. How do youz cum up wit these ideas?”
“I don’t…” he trailed off.
“What iz wrong, Mog?”
Mog felt something in his mind. What the heck was that? he thought. “Ah, nothing, don’t worry about it, my friend.”

Dornim sat back in his chair. “So, we already lost our first battle to someone who we don’t even know who the hell it is.”
“We recognized the leader,” Edgar said. “It was Vulkrum of the Asassens.”
Dornim looked up abruptly. “The blonde guy from Maranda?”
“Yes, same one. And he almost killed Sabin.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” Sabin butted in. “But I got him back, he couldn’t have done anything to me in that state,” he said with relative pride.
“Yes, well, if it wasn’t for your desperate strike, he very well might have slain you.”
“But he didn’t,” Sabin countered ye again. Edgar looked at his brother with the old smile that meant he couldn’t believe his ridiculousness.
“Well, the Asassens aren’t too much but a guerrilla organization, but this army that Vulkrum’s leading could be a huge problem. Especially with those…creatures,” Dornim said.
Silence.
“Well have you gotten any word from the investigation team at the Hole?” Edgar broke the silence.
“No, not yet,” Dornim replied. “There may truly be nothing there.”
“Well, we’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“Is there anyone else we can get though? Everyone’s already here, two are departed, two are dead, two are…”
Edgar and Dornim looked at each other in realization. “Two are in Narshe!”

For the umpteenth time, Setzer fired up the airship. “Yunno, Edgar, I’m going to start charging you for every time you make me fly this for you. If I’m going to be treated like a chauffeur, I’m going to be paid like one too.”
Edgar smiled at his friend. “Sure, Set. Sure.”
Locke came up behind him. “So, Ed, feel like playing a game of blackjack?”

News had quickly spread that a new Imperial army had arisen. From all over, men had joined the ranks of Vulkrum’s army.
He stood over the balcony to looks at his men. Former Vector soldiers who remained under their oath of allegiance, loyalists who had never lost loyalty, and oddest of all, Fanatics that somehow thought that the Empire was reminiscent of Kefka’s older days. This made some weariness, for the Fanatics were fanatical about Kefka in a disturbing way, and the Imperials despised him for he had caused the Empire to fall. Vulkrum could care less about their ideals, their idols, and their beliefs. He didn’t even care if they liked each other, as long as they worked together.
That, along with the original army and the new mercenaries of Klee’on Rama had made this a force to be reckoned with. Enough to crush their opponents.
“My men,” he yelled down, “my crew, my army! We can crush anyone who stands in our way!”
Loud cheers met him. “And our enemies are…”
“THE RETURNERS!” Klee’on’s group yelled. They were also met with the agreements of the rest of the army. They had a common enemy; that was what would keep them together. With this history, there would be no betrayal or defection to the Returners.
It was glorious.
And he knew Vector was thrilled. Speaking of which, he needed to get a plan together with his Emperor on where to go next.
He turned around and saw that he wasn’t too far away from the Emperor. “You read my mind,” Vulkrum said.
“You want to discuss…?”
“Yes. We need to decide on something, something that will show that we have a hold over the Returners. That last victory boosted my men’s morale, and the new recruits are helping a lot, but we need to do something. We have enough to do more than one task now.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Vector said with a still amused smile on his face, “I know. I’ve been working in military strategies long before you were born. And bigger ones than these.”
Vulkrum grimaced. He hated it when Vector treated him like some child. He knew a lot about military strategy, and if Vector would look pass his age, maybe he’d realize how talented he was.
“I already have it worked out,” Vector said calmly. “Just leave it to me.”
He walked pass Vulkrum to the balcony. “You mind telling me first, Vector?” Vulkrum said bitterly. “I mean, I am your commander.”
“Fine, I see the little boy in you is coming up. We’ll attack from different sides. One of my spies has told me that he has spotted a ship coming into the Narshe country area. The ship carried two people, one was a young girl, the other a boy, recognized from your base in Maranda; a few of the spies are your men.
“I’m betting they’re with the Returners. This is where emotions come into play. Foolish…human emotions…”

Chapter XIII: Suprise Attacks

Mog walked through the Narshe streets. He saw the people hard at work as usual. Houses were rebuilt, and stores, but they needed people to come to buy stuff from the stores.
That was one more thing; the town’s economy was low. Most of the workers here had been volunteers. Mog had to use his own money to pay for what they had. And the only money he had had was the GP given to him by his friends in the Returners; Moogles didn’t use any sort of currency. But all in all, it was going well.
He wasn’t even paying attention; he hit his face against some a large rack, supporting different kinds of equipment and tools. It wobbled and shook and almost fell down. The man who was using the equipment yelled at him. “Hey, who the heck is messing with my things? When I get over there I’ll…I’ll…” he stopped when he saw who it was.
“Oh, Mog, I didn’t know it was you. I’m, uh…”
“It’s okay,” Mog replied. “’Twas my fault anyway.”
He continued his walk. He had felt so weird the last couple of days. What was wrong? Something didn’t feel right.
He heard something. It sounded like a buzzing sound in the distance. A few moments later, the workers quit what they were doing to look up; they made “oohs” of astonishment. Mog looked up as well.
“Oh my!”
“Mog,” Umaro came up behind him, “is dat the aero ship?”
“It is.” Mog eyes lit up. “It’s the Falcon!”

Setzer brought the Falcon down a little outside the mountains.
“Who’s coming?” he asked. “They know me pretty well by now, and I’m not leaving this baby out here unprotected.”
“I’ll stay,” Sabin said. “Let’s just see those guys try’n get through me!”
“In that case,” Cyan said, “I shall stay hither as well.”
“Suite yourselves,” Setzer said as he jumped off the deck.

Mog ran passed everyone to the town entrance. This was the second time in rather short time Setzer had visited him. He just hoped he could stay longer this time.
“Hey, Mog!” Setzer yelled out. “Are you there?”
“Right here! What do you want?”
“Maybe I need to show you.”
Mog’s eyes grew wide as he saw Edgar. Then Locke, Celes, and Terra. He almost hopped up and down. He knew he was just about to break.
He ran up to them. He spoke so fast he wasn’t sure he could keep up.
“Oh my gosh! It’s you guys! What are you doing here? What happened at the island? How did you guys get back together? Hey, where’s everyone else, huh? And wha—”
Setzer put his hand over the Moogle’s mouth. “Slow down, little guy.”
“Cyan and Sabin are with the Falcon and Gau and Relm went back home.”
“What about the others?” Mog couldn’t take the time to try and remember everyone.
“Uh,” Setzer looked at his friends. “We have a lot of stuff to talk about.”

They went back to Mog’s house—which had once belonged to the Elder—and Setzer told him the whole story, or at least most of it.
He was awestricken. “Shadow…. d-dead? I can’t believe it.”
“None of us could,” Edgar said.
“Well, what now?”
“There’s something else,” Setzer continued. “A new Empire has risen from the ashes of the old one, same island and everything. We fought by Zozo, and we lost. And I’m sure they’re preparing for another confrontation.
“That’s why we need you and Umaro’s help. We need every hand we can get in this. It’s worse than we thought it would be.”
Mog looked down. He thought. It has horrid. A new Empire? The death of Shadow? This couldn’t be true. After coming home he thought everything would be fine, he could settle down. He didn’t want to be drawn into another war.
“I’m… sorry,” he said finally. “It’s great to see you all again, but I actually have responsibility here. Narshe needs rebuilding, there’s too much for me to do here.”
“Well how do you think I felt?” Edgar snapped. “I have a family, a kingdom, that are still in danger more than likely. I left it to come back to fight our enemies. To help everyone!”
“Well maybe I’m just not ready!” Mog snapped back. It was the first time any of them had seen the young Moogle get angry. “I don’t like fighting. I just want to live here with Umaro. I don’t want to get drawn into a war like before! You are experienced with this, Edgar, you can deal with these things; I am not and cannot.”
He hung his head. “I’m sorry, Edgar.”
Edgar just realized how much of a jerk he had just been.
“It’s okay, Mog. I see.” He looked at the others, embarrassed. “Well I guess we can just go then.”
Mog made no attempt to stop them.

Relm and Gau were back at their home in the Narshe country area. It felt good to be home, though not as good as it could be knowing that their friends were safe. Relm sat in a chair.
“It feels good to be back, huh Gau?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he answered with apathy.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just feel bad about us being here, comfortable and safe while Terra, Sabin, and the others are in danger.” He walked to the window. “I wish I could be there and help them.”
“Gau,” she walked up beside him, “they are the ones who made us come back. They think we should be safe. It’s not your fault.”
He sighed.
“I didn’t think you’d feel as bad as I do, Relm. It’s okay.”
He walked passed her. He stared at him. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” he said with his back still to her. “It’s just, you’d rather be inside a house, very comfortable and safe. You wouldn’t want to be out there with them.”
“I see what you’re saying,” she said. “Since I grew up indoors you think I’d rather be here than out there with my friends. Just because you lived in the wild you think you’re the only who wants to be out there. Think again, Gau!”
He turned around. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what is it? Huh?”
He seemed like he was about to say something a few times but never got it out.
“Gah, why do girls have to be so irritating!” was what he finally said.
He went down the hall to his room, leaving Relm with her mouth open.
“Gau!” she called before he shut his door.

“Gau!” he shut the door right as she yelled at him. I don’t think I’ll ever understand her, he thought. Girls are too complicated.
He sighed and walked over to

This post has been edited by Sherick on 13th September 2006 21:40

--------------------

I fear my heart and fear my soul
Life goes on, it surely will,
Without me and I wonder:
Will I ever see light again?

Life goes on...

That night he finally got to sleep, but was haunted by nightmares. The old faces of his dead relatives and friends, the destroyed mines, the World lay in Ruin. Rejoining his old friends who he thought had died. Fighting and killing Kefka.
But what was this? Kefka regenerating, a house, a son, the magicite, the battle, the “magic” user, the final true downfall of Kefka. Was this Terra’s strange dream she had mentioned?
He saw this powerful man walk off with many others. They were on a cliff. He jumped.
He fell into the sea below him and swam like a frog. What in the hell? For a split second, he saw the face. Black-scaled-skinned and bloodshot eyes, a sadistic look that pierced through Mog.
He heard screaming, yelling. But, they were underwater, just the small group, how was there so much screaming?
Mog almost jumped out of his bed when someone banged at his door.
“Mog!” Umaro’s loud voice called. “Mog, get up! Youz gots to cum out here!”
Mog jumped up and ran to the door. “Yes, Umaroooooo!”
The Yeti pulled him out and ran.
“Umaro, what is going on?”
“Big a-armered soldiers with big a-swords!”
Mog looked around. It was. Soldiers, in armor as the old Vector troops, attacked the town. Men tried to fight back with their tools and equipment, but they were easily brought down. They set fire to houses.
“Umaro, stop!” Mog demanded. “We need to help them!”
“Umaro will,” he replied. “But too dangerous for Mog.”
“What are you talking about, I can fight them too.”
“Mog say that he no like to fight. Youz said that to Eggar.”
“Yes, but if my life depends on it…”
Some soldiers tried to cut them off. Umaro ran right through them. “This losing battle, Mog, youz a smart one, you can help others, you can go help yer friends.”
“But Umaro!”
“Umaro die for you, Mog!”
Mog stared at him with an open mouth. “What?”
“Hey, stop them! Those two are getting away!” some soldiers yelled.
Someone hurled a spear; it came right for Mog. Umaro jumped in front of him, getting impaled in the shoulder. “Umaro!”
“No, Umaro fine.” He grabbed Mog and put him over his shoulder. He ran into the Mines of Narshe.
He found an area where the soldiers would have a hard time finding them.
“Umaro let me take care of that.”
“No, Umaro try to defend town.”
“Then I’m going back too!”
“No, Mog must live.”
“But…” Umaro hit him in the head, knocking him unconscious. “Sorry, friend.”

Mog woke up in the mines, untouched. He walked outside. He took a look at the town…and fell to his knees.
The whole town was up in smokes, destroyed. The soldiers were still here. Mog ran by stealthily, his small size and white fur being excellent cover.
He searched for an hour without being noticed; he couldn’t find Umaro anywhere.
“Umaro…”
Why did you have to die? Why did you have to make me live? What else do I have? My town is gone. Everything I worked for…gone.
He looked at the soldiers. I have only one thing now.
These Imperials will pay. I hope Edgar’s offer still stands.
“Umaro…”

Chapter XIV: Aquadalins/Vector’s Tale

“Hey Setzer,” Locke said, “Can you drop by South Figaro?”
“I guess. Why?”
“Me and Celes wanted to stop by our house to get some things. We don’t know how long it’ll be.”
“Neither do I,” Setzer said grimly, almost to himself. “Maybe we’d all like to drop by the old town anyway.”

The Falcon landed outside of South Figaro. Locke and Celes and everyone else got off and entered the city.
“We’ll be back in a little bit,” Locke said. “You all can go do whatever you want I guess.”
Sabin and Edgar searched through their old town. They headed to the port; they knew someone down there.
Edgar felt Sabin stop. “What is it?”
Sabin moved closer to his brother’s ear. “Over there,” he motioned with his head. “I have a bad vibe coming from him.”
Edgar looked over. Someone was standing close to them with a black cloak pulled over him.
“Black cloak at this time of year? With this weather?”
“Well, yeah...that’s what I thought,” Sabin said. It was rather humid in Figaro at this time of year. “But he seems to be watching us.”
“How can you tell?”
“I just have that weird feeling.”
Edgar thought for a few moments. “Okay, we may have to ask him. If he isn’t watching us, then he won’t pay any mind, but we’ll be able to tell if he is.”
“Agreed.”
They moved toward him. As soon as they did, the cloaked person walked off. They pursued more. He started to run. Gotcha, Edgar thought.
The twins moved after him, pushing aside some people in front of them. Sabin jumped over everyone and in front of the cloaked.
Seeing that he was cornered, he tried to jump into the water.
“Oh no you don’t!” Sabin said as he ran toward him. But he was too late.
“Damn!”
“Hold on, Sabes.” They looked up. The portmaster was an old friend of theirs, named David Harpoon, fat, hairy, but a very nice old guy. He wasn’t far from where they stood, and he turned around and pulled a rope. The rope pulled up a net from the water, with the cloaked spy caught in it.
“Thank you, David,” Edgar said.
“N’problem,” the old man winked.
They cut the net and pulled him up. “Okay, just who are you?” Edgar demanded.
He pulled off his hood…
All three of them jumped back. “What in the gods’ name is this?”
Black-scaled; red-eyed. “One of the creatures from the back at Zozo,” Edgar said.
“How’d you know?” it asked in a voice indicating it was female. “And what do you mean by creatures?”
“Look, I don’t know what you are.”
“I am an Aquadalin,” she answered with pride. Shortly after the statement, however, she backed a little, and some remorse showed in her face for whatever reason.
“Aquadalin?” Sabin asked. “Well, we saw you guys helping out the Imperials back at Zozo.”
“Imperials?” she asked. “These new Imperials would never receive help from us. Oh, that’s right. Please don’t report me.”
She got down on her knees. “I beg of you, don’t report me!”
They looked at each other. “It depends, for whatever reasons.”
“What’s your name?”
“Otoshi…Vector.”

“How were there others fighting?” Otoshi asked. They had gone back to the Falcon and were interrogating the Aquadalin.
“We’ve haven’t been above ground publicly for many, many years. It has been illegal under the new Empire for us to.”
“Are you referring to Gestahl’s Empire?” asked Edgar.
“Yes, Gestahl, that was his name. That slimeball of a man.”
“Well, Otoshi, that Empire fell several years ago. Now there’s a new one starting to form.”
“And you are not it?
“We are the Returners,” Cyan cut in. “We rule in democracy. We hath not learned of an existing species such as thyselves. Otherwise I am quite sure we would have seen into the legalization of thou.”
“Unless of course we had a reason not too,” Setzer added.
“No. There shouldn’t be.”
“We need to find out a little more about you and these Aquadalins.”

Relm looked out of the small barred cell she was incarcerated in. Gau had his ankles and neck manacled to the wall with his hands still bound. He was still unconscious; the manacles kept him hanging up.
She heard the sound of footsteps. Soldiers came in to the small, prison-like room. Gau awoke. He struggled a little until he realized his position. He snarled at his captors and bared his fang-like canines.
One of the soldiers hit him. When he came back up, the soldier stuffed a wad of cloth into the boy’s mouth. Someone else entered. He was dressed in nice yet tarnished armor and had short blonde hair. As he entered, the soldiers saluted him.
“Hello,” he said. “I am Vulkrum.” He looked down at Gau. “And you must be the wild child. Yes my father wrote about you too.”
“I remember you!” Relm said. “Y-y-you’re the one you killed my father!”
He looked at her. “Kid, I’ve killed many people’s fathers,” he said emotionlessly.
Gau made a sound that was obviously an attempt to growl.
“Oh, what’s wrong? Thought I forgot about you.”
He unsheathed his sword and put the blade up to Gau’s neck.
Relm saw Gau’s green eyes grow wide and darted back and forth between her and Vulkrum. Vulkrum turned the sword blade to the side of Gau’s neck.
Without looking at her, Vulkrum said, “As for you, girl, Emperor Vector has enlisted you for his personal servant. Take her, and leave us.”
They took Relm out of her cell, and took her through the doorway. She saw Vulkrum raise his sword and aimed right for Gau’s neck.
“Wait, no!” she called as she was taken away.
She heard the sound of a blade hitting flesh.

Vulkrum brought the blade down, but turned it so the flat of the blade his Gau’s face. Gau made a few moans.
“Good gods, Vector with his stupid commands,” he yelled out, more to himself once he was sure the soldiers were gone. “This whole kidnapping plot was his idea, with none of my consent!”
He turned around and looked at Gau. He sighed. “You look so pathetic.”
He reached over and removed Gau’s gag. “Besides, I feel stupid talking to myself.”
Gau made as to say “thank you,” but stopped himself. He stretched his mouth a bit.
“He really irritates me.”
“If he annoys you so much, why do you answer to him?” Gau asked, thinking answering back might keep him freed for a little bit longer.
“He isn’t the most agreeable of people, but he’s a good leader and rather friendly. And at the point we’re at, I wouldn’t try to argue with him. He has unified our measly little group.”
“Speaking of which, how’d you end up with the Asassens?”
Vulkrum hesitated. He sensed what the prisoner was doing, but at the moment he really didn’t mind. He dug up some old memories. “I grew up with my mother. I have no real memory of my father, I never really saw him. I recall his name was Celica. I lived in a house in the country, though I seldom went outside. I trained, and learned how to fight.
“My mother passed from sickness, and with nowhere or no one to go to, I left and ventured out. One thing led to another, and I eventually met up with MacKigg’s ‘Asassens’. I outmatched them, and was a much better fighter than MacKigg. I took control. That was only a few years ago, though it feels as if it’s been much longer.
“Only a little ago, when we were raiding Jidoor, we met Vector and his ambitious crew. We joined forces, and he brought us here. You know the rest of the story.”
“Why?” Gau asked
“Why what?”
“Why did you lead the Asassens? Why do you do what you do?”
“They were made for MacKigg’s purpose of taking over Figaro. I spanned our horizons to taking control of everything. It’s just the way it is. We do what we do to achieve that goal. Now, Vector has brought us ever so closer to that.”
“But you are just going to be broken up,” Gau put in. “It’s just like the Empire with Kefka. Your different ideas and beliefs will just bring you farther apart. You’re already having a hard time with each other.”
Vulkrum thought about this for a few minutes. Then he half smiled. “Nice try, Gau. Try to get me to betray my Emperor. Too bad. Anyway…”
He slapped Gau with his blade flat again, and then gagged him. “I’ve got work to do.”
Gau struggled as Vulkrum left him alone.

Mog had managed to sneak through Narshe without being spotted; his white fur helped him blend in with the snowy mines. After leaving, he walked through the open plains. It had been quite a while since he had done that.
He had to clear his mind. The Falcon had already left and after he had refused to help them, he doubted they would come back anytime soon. He had to go to them. It would take a while, but he would. He had to.
But would there be anyway to get off this island now?

Mog traveled out for a day, determined for revenge but discouraged by the impossibility of being able to get off the Narshe island, much less to the Returned Isle.
Then he saw smoke. It was light gray, but looked as though it had been burning for a little bit now. He ran in that direction. He saw when he got closer that it was a half-destroyed house. Who builds a house all the way out here? he thought.
He ran up to it. He investigated the near-totaled house. After some investigation, he decided a broken oil lamp had ignited it when the oil and the flame touched. But something had obviously happened to cause most of the damage inside that couldn’t have been caused by a fire.
At least no one was hurt.
He shook the thought out of his head. Right now he needed to find a way to get off… then the thought hit him. Since it was palpable no one was going to be using this for now, he could take some of the lumber and make a raft. There wouldn’t be any other chance to find a boat of any kind; he might as well take the chance.
While looking for some good-sized wood, he saw what looked like a sword blade sticking up from a floorboard. He lifted the floorboard. He grinned at his own fortune. A cache of swords, knives, armor, and other arms had been hidden under the floors. This was just he needed. He needed something to defend himself with on his—what would probably be—long journey. Even though he had to steal. I don’t think they’ll mind, Mog told himself.
After amassing all the arms he thought he would need, he collected the wood necessary for a raft and lashed them together with rope and cord he found inside the house. It had already begun to rain down. He hadn’t even noticed clouds.
He dragged it along for a few hours before spotting the coast. He put the small vessel in the water and found a branch he could use for an oar. He had a long journey, but Mog would make it as best he could.

Relm wasn’t entirely thrilled by her new job: serving the Emperor personally. Her ankles were shackled, and she carried a tray of food into the throne room.
She almost jumped back as she got her first look at the reptilian emperor, but she just gulped and continued toward him. Another one of whatever-he-was was speaking with him as the Emperor looked down at something. She tried to remember her lines that a servant had given to her.
“Emp-emperor V-v-v-Vector, I am Relm…Relm Arrowney. I am going to be s-s-s-s-serving you.”
He looked up from what he was doing and beamed at her in an oddly way.
“Hello, my lady.” He had an oddly polite tone for such a frightening-looking being. He gestured for her to come forward and dismissed the other. “Why such the frightened look?
She walked up to the throne.
“Are you scared of this place? Are you scared of me? Or are you scared of my appearance?”
She said nothing, also as she was instructed, and carried the tray to Vector. He grabbed it and set it aside on his armrest.
“And so quiet,” he commented. “You may be here for a while. I think we should get to know each other.”
“I…don’t think that’s necessary,” Relm stuttered.
“You may grow more used to me,” he said smugly. “I think really think we should get to know each other better, Rim.” He moved closer and put a hand behind her.
“Well, I don’t!” she took a step backwards into his arm.
He pulled her forward…
Then the door slammed open. They both looked over and saw Vulkrum coming toward the throne.
“Your Highness…” he looked at him. “What’s going on?”
Relm escaped Vector and walked away from him. She looked at Vulkrum who gave her a nod, and she went on her way out.
After she left Vulkrum whipped around to Vector. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” Vector said bitterly. “What do you want?”
“Why are we doing this?”
“Doing what?”
“Kidnapping? That’s rather low, don’t you think?”
“No, no, no,” Vector said. “They are prisoners of war. You said it yourself, they were at your base in Maranda with the Returners.”
“Well yes, he was, but…”
“And it’s nothing illegal anyway. Not like we haven’t done it before”
“I never did! And I don’t feel right doing it!”
“You don’t have to!” Vector smirked. “You just have to do as I say.”
Vulkrum gritted his teeth, but said nothing. He had nothing to argue with now.
“Is there something else on your mind, boy?” Vector asked with interest.
“Well,” Vulkrum hesitated, “yes, there’s something I need to ask you.”
Vector could obviously tell Vulkrum had already thought of the question. “D-d-did you…know my father?”
Vector seemed as if he knew the question was coming. He sat back calmly in The Throne.
“Yes.”

“Wait…Vector,” Sabin recalled a detail from earlier. “What about that guy who is creating the new Empire? Wasn’t his name Vector?”
Edgar and Cyan looked up. They looked at Otoshi. “You mean there’s another Vector?” she asked in amazement. “I thought we were all gone, I thought I was the only one left.
Tell me some more about what you heard.”
The Returners looked at each other; reading each other’s faces. “Well,” Edgar said, “he’s declaring himself Emperor and is taking control of the I—”
“Hey,” Sabin interrupted yet again, evidently deeper in thought than the others, “isn’t the Imperial City called Vector?”
“That’s it!” Otoshi yelled out. “I think I know…but it can’t be. But what if it is? I can’t…I can’t believe it!!”
Sabin grabbed a hold of her. “What! What is it?”
She looked him in the eyes. “Utam,” she simply said. “My older brother, and Emperor of all Aquadalins.”

“Well then tell me!” Vulkrum yelled at Vector. “Who was he? What does he have to do with you?”
The Emperor calmly stood up and walked by Vulkrum.
“Didn’t you say you had your father’s journal?”
“It’s not much of a journal, but yes.” He reached inside his armor and brandished the old leather book. Vector grabbed it. “He has bad handwriting, just as I figured.”
“Enough games, Vector, who was he?!”
He sighed. “First, let me give you my history lesson.” He looked away as if ashamed to remember his old memories.
“Many years ago, I ruled this Empire, on this very throne. I ruled all the Aquadalins and human factions as well. I was a force to be reckoned with, I could have ruled the world if I had wanted to. My left-hand man and leader of the humans whom I ruled was known as Gestahl. He…betrayed me, to be blunt.
“He led the humans in a secret rebellion against us. He had an officer who led his small army, a man named Léo. He also had another officer he favored, a young man named Kefka Palazzo. I imagine you’ve heard of him?”
Vulkrum nodded.
“Well, they attacked us at night, so our forces weren’t prepared….”

“I was Utam’s right hand,” Otoshi said. “So I was drawn to his side. Of course, I would’ve done so anyway, he’s my brother after all. But the image still sparks in my mind. When Kefka, rather than fighting the armed forces, decided to sneak into the quarters. He killed soldiers in their sleep. Then he found Utam’s room.
“Utam wasn’t there…but his wife and children were. I saw him murder my brother’s family. I ran away...” she choked up, “to warn Utam…”

“So I was fighting Gestahl. He was a really good fighter. Finally, I was…defeated. My right hand was defeated by Léo, but spared by good sportsmanship and respect. When I was defeated however, Gestahl threw me over the terrace of the palace.
“I should’ve dies, but my followers rescued me and healed me. We had lost, however. Gestahl had taken our Empire, and he first decreed that Aquadalins be illegalized.”
Vulkrum stood in silence.
“We lived under the sea for many years,” he continued. “It was a long time later, something miraculous happened. The balance of Magic had been broken, by none other than Kefka Palazzo. When this happened, the waters rose, revealing us to him.
“Rather than killing us on the spot, he talked with me, like we were old friends, which in a sense we were. He bragged about his power. I told him ‘Well power never lasts forever. I rose and fell, Gestahl fell, Gothgar before me; you will face it soon.’ I said ‘When you feel the bitterness of defeat, come see me.’
“So, a year later, he did. And I killed him.”
Vulkrum looked up. “So you killed Kefka? Heh. Nice one, old man.”
Vector started to lose his temper. “You think I bluff?”
“No, I know you are.”
“I do not,” he shot a strong beam of electricity from his hand at Vulkrum, “LIE!”
Vulkrum lay on the floor, in awe silence. “Now sit down and shut up!”
Vulkrum had never seen his superior loose his temper. And what did he just do?
“You want to know who your father is?” Vector said after he calmed down little bit. “Your father was a wicked man. Your father was Kefka Palazzo.”
The younger man sat silent more. He had somewhat expected it after that speech, but it still shocked him. Kefka? The almighty warlord; the one who had destroyed and conquered the world? His very own father?
“I noticed it the moment I saw your eyes. You had the look, the snare, and the malevolence in a sense. Luckily you don’t carry you father’s infamous insanity.”
He sat down in his throne. “Well now, you know the truth. You know that I killed your father. Are you angry? Do you feel like striking me down; avenging your dear dad? As you thought to do before?”
Vulkrum got up. He didn’t know Vector had been aware of his secret plot, not that it really mattered now. “N-no,” he said softly. “My father was a maniac, a no good killer who knew no honor. It is a shame.”
“Very good,” Vector said as he grabbed a fruit from his tray and took a bite.
Vulkrum walked up directly in front of Vector’s throne and knelt.
“As a matter of fact, I take it as a personal humiliation, the way he…killed your people.”
“My family,” Vector said what the younger was thinking.
“I will take a debt of honor to you, my lord, to rid the Palazzo humiliation.”
Vector laughed aloud while still chewing on his fruit. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant! A debt for your kin’s actions.” He was about to take another bite, when he threw it away and leaned up, as if an idea had just presented itself. “All right, I know something you can do.”
He leaned to Vulkrum’s ear and whispered. “Tell your men.”

Chapter XV: A Magical Reunion

The Falcon took to the air once more. They would have to go to deliver this newfound information to Dornim. Inside, Otoshi Vector stayed in a private room, feeling that her presence made the Returners uneasy. Since discovering who see was, they all seemed to act even more oddly around her.
Of course she hadn’t done anything. It still blew her mind that he could still be alive, and doing what he was. He was trying to rebuild the Empire. But was this the way to do it?
Of course it was, Utam had taught her that himself. War means doing whatever you can to win it, he had said. War is never good, so you must avoid it whenever you can, but if the time arises, you cannot back down. The years have shown that I—we—can defeat anything.
If that was true, was he going to do anything to try and win? It seemed that the new Returners were nice, and seek no harm; why would he want to destroy them? But on the other hand, he was her older brother, and above that her emperor, and he was rebuilding the empire that they had once ruled. How could she pick a side?

Terra stood with Setzer and Sabin above deck. She had just heard the news from Edgar about Otoshi and the Aquadalins. The information blew her away. That Gestahl had once answered to another; that this new “Emperor” had ruled before, that Otoshi was his right hand; that Kefka had actually been part of it… too many things that made her think.
She let the rushing fast air hit her face. It felt good, but she was so deep in thought she didn’t even enjoy it. She turned around and went back under the airship. The walked passed the “casino”, where Locke and Celes were cheating the Figaro twins out of their money again. She went to the room were Otoshi had isolated herself to. Terra knocked on the door.
It opened, and she looked in and saw Otoshi sitting on the bed inside. Terra looked back and forth between the door and her.
“H-h-how did you do that?”
“Easy,” Otoshi simply replied. He waved her hand and made it close back. “I’ve always been able to do it. As far back as I remember anyway.”
Then Terra remembered another detail from her dream. “I remember, in that dream I mentioned, that the cloaked man who killed Kefka used a form of magic, even though magic was no more. Could your brother do that too?”
“Yes, we were both born with it. We were told it is called amatru-ki. Utam actually used it to fight, which was why he was so good.”
“That is another piece to the puzzle,” she said out loud, though mainly to herself. “I knew that there had to be a connection between Kefka and Utam.”
“So, you had suspected it all along?”
“Yes, after you told me a little about him.” She noticed that she had upset Otoshi. “I’m sorry, Otoshi…”
“It’s okay. He had it coming after what he did to us, and what he did to this world. I’m glad my brother killed him in our name.”
Terra nodded. “I need to go tell the others. We need to go tell them!”

After Otoshi finished explaining amatru-ki to the Returners, they all looked at each other, but said nothing.
Sabin broke the silence.
“Well, what now? If this…Vector guy has these powers, and the Empire, how can we defeat him? We have Otoshi, I guess…”
“But I am not as powerful as my brother. I am not a real warrior.”
“Great,” Sabin said. “And we have no magic anymore.”
“We’re screwed,” Setzer said simply, as he lit a smoking pipe. He looked up after extinguishing his match to see them all staring at him. “What?” He extended a pot with some bits of plants and ashes in it.
“Want some?”
As Terra glared at him, she noticed something behind him. Around a certain mountain area, red and purple storm clouds had formed, but they were not anywhere else. The others all noticed. They stared with their eyes wide. Setzer looked at them with a puzzled expression.
“What? It’s just pipe herbs. It’s nothing illegal.”
He turned around and saw the clouds as well. He rubbed his eyes.
“Take us there, Set,” Edgar said.
As he took the controls, Setzer took out his bag of herbs and tossed them over the hull of the Falcon.

They landed the Falcon as far up on the mountain as they could. All eight of them scaled the mountain. Once they reached the top, they saw what they had mostly expected to see. The clouds, now closer to the peak, thundered and crackled. Purple light shown through the thick layer of cloud and illuminated the mountaintop.
As they came closer, they heard a sound like a melody. It drew them closer.
Sabin snapped out of it. “Guys, c’mon, stop!”
The others came back to their senses. They watched as the purple light grew brighter and bigger, and the clouds parted. Terra took a step toward it. She stopped, then hesitated, and then continued toward it.
“Terra,” Locke called, “what’re you doing?”
But she kept on going. As she drew closer, she felt warmer, an amazing sensation that felt somehow familiar. She felt herself levitate. She hovered through the air. She ran short on breath, but wasn’t bothered by it.
She ascended into the clouds. The light grew so bright, that the other seven had to cover their eyes.
Once the light dimmed, Locke looked up…and was breathless in awe.
She floated down, covered in brilliant pink fur, glowing like the light above her. She hung in the air gracefully. She was an Esper. She was born an Esper, had discovered her power six years ago in Zozo from Ramuh, and had lost it when the magic died. And now there she was.
They stood in silence, too afraid to move forward. Terra looked down at them and smiled with her big glowing yellow eyes. “It’s okay. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just…them.”
Locke looked to the others, who in turn looked at each other. Terra descended toward them, and the clouds above separated farther. She touched down, but they all looked up as something else descended down. Claws protruded from its feet, and as it lowered, its muscular frame showed with not but a loincloth clothing it. Long purplish hair ran down its back, and as more of it showed, long, curved red horns became visible.
It didn’t take anything else to tell what this was. An Esper. Terra’s own father, Maduin, captured years ago by Imperials and drained of energy for fuel for Magitek. He turned to magicite for them, showing himself to his daughter for the first and final time. He had big glowing yellow eyes, which he had obviously passed on to his daughter. But he had gone away like all the other Espers…
As if cued by thought, the cloud opened to what seemed like a full extent. Other memorable faces showed. The fire demon Ifrit; his icy companion Shiva; small Carbuncle; haunting Phantom; hog-like Shoat; gorgeous maidens Starlet and Siren; felineus Stray; whale-like Bismarck; Alexander, whose great size made him have to land in the nearby forest. Locke jumped, and then looked down as the serpent Terrato slithered up, as if he had just appeared from the earth.
He looked up and saw Phoenix and Palidor soaring through the clouds. But the Espers…five years ago…they had left “forever”…. how and why were they back?
“I believe I can answer that, Locke,” said an aged yet thunderous voice. Ramuh—Wiseman of the Espers and Boltmaster—stood there as tall and godlike as ever. Locke hadn’t even realized he had been speaking his thoughts aloud.
“It has to do with you,” Ramuh looked at Otoshi, “and your brother. When we left this world and took the magic with us, it was to stay gone forever. But you have cheated the rules, Vector.”
She looked down.
“I understand this was a privilege you were born with, and it is not our magic, we would not even have worried about it had it not been a threat. But I am afraid that your brother, Utam Duvallu za Vector, has proven he can and will use it. That is bending our plan, and is creating tremendous danger for the world and all that live in it. But as you can tell, we are all not here. That’s because of the factions.”
“Factions?” Terra asked.
“You see, we appealed this to Gothgar, king of the Espers millennia ago, but he wanted nothing to do with it and left it up to us. Lord Bahamut opposed it, and Tritoch, perched on Bahamut’s shoulder, agreed with him. We broke into two factions. Seraphim, Kirin, Zoneseek, Golem, Finrir, Raiden, and even the almighty Crusader sided with Bahamut. The rest of us, decided to return to help you.”
While they had been talking, Locke counted the Espers. “Wait, there were twenty-six of you before, now I counted fourteen here, plus nine you said stayed behind. Where is the other?”
“Just because Crusader stayed behind, doesn’t mean his sword had to,” an echoing voice called.
From above, a sword came streaking out of the sky and plunged into the ground. It was about three-quarters the size of Maduin. Ragnorok. “I have decided to also come to stop this treachery.”
Otoshi started to weep. They could sense her sorrow. “Don’t think of it as your fault, Miss Vector. One way you look at it, your power is the threat that made us come back. On the other…” he trailed off.
Maduin smirked and spoke in a calm voice that didn’t quite fit him. “We’re back.”
“And now…” Ramuh said. He leaned his head down, as did the other Espers. Terra gestured for them to move back.
In a brilliant spectacle capable of blinding someone miles away, they all turned to light. When the light had faded, all that was left were small stones flying in the air: Magicite, the remains of an Esper, fourteen of them, circling the Returners. But Ragnorok was still firmly planted in the earth.
“I have decided to remain a blade, as that is my true purpose. Use me wisely…” his voice faded away. The sword, now inanimate, began to shrink down to a size capable of usage by a human. Terra gripped her hands around the handle and pulled Ragnorok out.
She twirled it with expertise. Locke still was raveling at her Esper form. Though it had been perfectly explained by Ramuh, it was still mind blowing that Espers and magic were back. This is surreal.

Vulkrum sat on his bed. He had received a letter from Narshe telling him they were ready to begin mining for coal. They needed it to fuel their new war machine, and especially the laser cannon. It would be hard work, mining the coal then having to ship it to Vector and having to maintain their stronghold on Narshe, but it had to be done. There was nothing else that could fuel their machines, and Narshe was the greatest coal mine shaft in the world.
Vulkrum got up to report to Vector, and then he saw a small illumination in the corner of his eye. He turned around. His bag of belongings he had not yet unpacked was glowing. He reached over and opened it. It was a huge stone, big as his head, which his father Kefka had given to him as a last gift. It glowed a bright yellow. He had never known the actual use of it, and had assumed it had just been a memoir from his father. But when he learned whom his father had been, he knew that that could not be the case.
It started to vibrate. It grew hot, making his hands tremble. It had grown too hot, he let go of it, but it stayed in the air. The air grew warmer, yet fresher. Suddenly it occurred to him what this stone was, as if it had been obvious the entire time. Magicite. The thought rang in his head. But not just any magicite... the magicite. From the magic of hundreds of…Espers?
Megacite! That had a nice ring to it. But if this was magicite, then could it produce magic? If it could, this meant a whole new perspective. He had to go tell Vector. He grabbed the Megacite and tucked it in his armor, hoping no one would notice the illumination.

Chapter XVI: Cape of Kefka

Mog’s raft drifted out to sea from Narshe country area three days ago, using a broken branch to paddle. He was amazed it had gotten him this far so fast, but he was paddling with a fury. He could tell he was getting close to South Figaro by the islands he saw around him in the distance.
He lay back. He hadn’t slept for the past three days and was very tired. The current would bring him to the town anyway. He closed his eyes.

It had been a few hours later that he washed up to shore, but he was still asleep. After all these days of no rest, he had gone to sleep rather quick and probably wouldn’t get up for a little bit longer. But luckily enough, the Figaro guards were making their evening patrol.
The guard, seeing the Moogle washed up with his raft, dismounted his chocobo and walked toward him. “Are you all right?” He gently nudged Mog. When he heard Mog’s calm breathing, he knew he was only asleep.
He picked the small Moogle up and propped him on the chocobo. “You’d better hold on.”
The bumpy ride on the big bird stirred Mog. He yawned, but stopped and grabbed the saddle below him once he figured out where he was.
“Good mornin’, Mr. Moogle.”
“It’s Mog,” he said drowsily. “Thank you for helping me.”
“I see you have a lot of weaponry there. Hope you don’t mean to cause any trouble?”
“Only if trouble comes first.”
The patrolman laughed. “I like that attitude, Mog. Anywhere specific you headed?”
“I’d be much obliged if you could take me to the Returner island, but given your immediate position I think that would a little too far.”
He laughed again. “How ‘bout South Figaro?”
“Yes, that sounds good.”
“Yunno for a Moogle, you speak rather fluently and such.” He turned around to face Mog. “No offense of course.”
“’Tis okay. I know not many Moogle speak Human Speech very well. I was taught by…well, by an old friend.”
He expected a reaction of some kind from the guard, but he paid no mind. “I used to not speak very well, or when I did, I spoke really fast and hyper.”
“Well what can you say? You’re just a kid.”
Mog had hoped he wouldn’t get any of that kind of youth talk. He was somewhat surprised though, for most of the time humans could get confused with ages for Moogles, and he thought the way he spoke would have thrown him off.
“I know Moogles,” he said. “I lived by them for a while, back in Narshe. That was when the two countries were together. You from Narshe?”
“Yes. I actually am running it. Or was as it seems.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’ll explain…”

They drew towards South Figaro. Mog had just finished explaining what had happened to Narshe.
The guard was awestruck. “I can’t believe it.”
Mog dismounted the chocobo. “I’ll go back and alert Figaro Castle. Even though the king isn’t here, I’m sure we can try to go and win back the mines.”
Mog smiled. “That would be great.” He was too tired to show too much emotion. But the guard could tell how much it meant to him. “Take care, Mog.”
He turned around to the town. He needed to get a ferry to the island, but he probably needed rest first. But as he took his first steps, three big humans stopped him.
“’Ey, Muggles,” the leader spoke with an ignorant voice. “You got some dang’rous weapons. They could become a threat. You need to check them out here wit us.”
“No,” Mog said and backed away. He backed right into two more big humans.
“Wrong answer, Muggle.”
The two behind him grabbed his arms. The others got out knives and put them to his throat.
“Now I’ll ask agin—”
“Get off of me. Or I’ll—”
“Gimme yer weapons! C’mon. Get ‘im!”
Mog hung his head and “tisk-tisked.” As he reached down, Mog jumped up and kicked him back. The two with knives were distracted by it, giving him the time to knock their weapons out of their hands. Now for the ones behind him. He slipped his right arm out of a loose grip and did a twirl and kicked the other in the groin.
The other two dove at him, and he performed a double axle, evading the thugs and making them hit their friends behind him. After they recovered, one of them looked at him.
“He’s a damn ballerina!”
They tried to move at him, but he quickly brought out a small spear and got in a battle position.
“Now do you really think that will work?”
They stood up and lifted their hands in the air. He heard the leader he had knocked down before stirring. Mog smirked. He jumped, and in the same movement turned and threw the spear at him, barely missing his neck.
As Mog landed, he heard the leader faint. “I’m tired. I’m going to rest. I don’t want you to cause any more trouble. Hear?”
They nodded in unison. As Mog walked to the inn, the gathered crowd of citizens applauded him.

The Band headed to Dornim’s office at the top of the fortress. They had much to tell him. But unfortunately, he had a lot for them too.
Before they started on about their discovery of Espers, he put up his hand.
“I have something to tell you,” he said in a serious voice. “We got a letter. It’s from the Imperials.”
That got their attention real quick. “What about?” Setzer asked.
Dornim brought it out. “A couple things. First off, they have straight up informed us that their army has increased drastically.”
“Are they trying to play with us?” Sabin interrupted. “‘Informing us their army has increased.’ This is crap.”
“But that’s not all,” Dornim continued. “They have also invaded and conquered the Mines of Narshe.”
They stared at him for a few moments. “But, we were just there,” Edgar said. “Just a few days ago, they couldn’t have done it that fast.”
“See what I mean?” said Sabin. “They’re lying to drop our morale.”
“And lastly,” Dornim went on, rather loudly, as if irritated, “they write that they have captured Gau and Relm, while en route to Narshe.”
That stopped Sabin in his tracks. Terra came up and grabbed the letter. She read it over; to make sure she had heard correctly. “Terra.”
She heard Edgar. “Terra, I’m sorry.”
Figures. The greatest things that could have happened to her had just happened, and now one of the worst…
“What now?” Locke asked.
There was a moment of silence. Terra spoke in a calm yet dangerous voice.
“We go to the belly of the beast.”

Cyan agreed to venture to the Imperial Island, but as an espionage mission to find out a little about the Imperial’s plans. This time they had a plan. Even though the Zozo area had been taken, there was a hunk of land coming off the Kohiligen continent that they could use as a base.
The Falcon landed there so as not to attract attention. They made a plan to sneak to Vector in a raft, and had a signal to use if they were in trouble—Terra would shoot Bolt into the air. If it was serious and they needed it quickly, Bolt and Fire. Setzer was accompanied by a few Returner free-fliers, while Cyan, Terra, Otoshi, and Celes went on the raft. Edgar, Locke and Sabin took another route around the island, to see and hear from a different angle, and to cover the others.
They set off into the mist, which had actually thinned a good deal—probably something that Utam had done. It took a long while to get through, and even though it had thinned out, it was still difficult to see if it was day or night. They caught site of the island. It was late afternoon/mid evening by the time they reached it and anchored in a cove.
It took a good few hours to make it to the top, but not as long to get to the city. Looks like we got here right on time, Terra thought. There was a huge assembly of people—soldiers mainly—gathered around what had once been the Imperial Palace. It was hard to believe this was the same place they had come to once to free the Espers from the Magitek Facility, or to make peace with the Empire prior to Gestahl’s betrayal of the truce. And it was ruined…yet still sparkled with its old magnificence. Otoshi was also amazed.
She was wide-eyed; awed over seeing the home she had been away from for many decades. It had to be completely different for her, but she refrained herself from curiosity and followed the rest of them. They got a fair distance away from the congregation and hid behind some rocks and ruins.

Vulkrum stood ready behind the balcony curtain. He was ready to make his big speech, as Vector had prepped him to do. Vector himself was awaiting this speech, which made Vulkrum all the more nervous. But the look on his subjects’ faces would be amusing. He smirked and walked out.

The crowd cheered loudly as he walked through the balcony, but then cut it with an eerie silence. Terra looked up and barely caught herself from gasping. It was obviously Vulkrum…
But he was dressed in the most exotic and memorable clothes. He wore long green and red robes, all kinds of fur and feathers hanging from it. He had white face-paint with bright red, his short blonde hair filled with plumes.
After a few moments, he stood over the railing, soaking in everyone’s expressions, still trying to hold back his amused smile. Finally, he spoke.
“My fellow Imperials, it is true, this is the appearance of the world’s worst and most feared tyrant, though I am anything but. I am your commander, but I am much more. I am Vulkrum Palazzo, heir of Kefka!”
A jumble of reactions met this. Cheers from the Fanatics; fearful gasps from former Imperials; discussion through the Asassen ranks and Aquadalins; Klee’on’s brigade were the only ones unmoved. The expressions showed surprise, but he had taught them not to fall out. A good leader.
“But that is not what this is about. Kefka was the most powerful man in existence, but he lacked something.” He pointed to his head. “Tactics. Maybe he didn’t need them, but could have been what lead to his downfall. I have no plans to have a downfall, but to reign as long as I can. As we can!”
Once again, his men supported him.
“This time it will be different. We have tactics, we have the army, we have the willpower and determination, and most of all,” he reached into his robe and pulled out a huge stone, “we have this!”
Terra recognized it almost immediately. “This Megacite, our secret weapon. The ultimate in magic support, it can be drained. Magitek could be created again, and with improved technology and ideas from people such as yours truly. But to do this, more must be acquired…much more. Even this isn’t enough to fuel an army. If after these years, Megacite is back, imagine what else there is!”
He held it into the air. Terra felt her throat dry up. Kefka’s son, with Kefka’s Megacite, but much higher than Kefka’s intelligence. And now he knows…but so do we.
“We will strike the Returners…in a prevailing, larger than life after storm!”
The roar from the crowd was almost deafening.
He turned to Vector who was behind the curtain watching Vulkrum. He clapped.
“Nicely done. I knew I made the right choice.”
“As did I,” Vulkrum said as he gripped Vector’s arm, sweat trickling down his painted face.

Terra looked like she was having hard time breathing. Celes shook her and called her. No one would hear them through the roar. Terra whispered. “There’s no way. There’s no way.”
They understood her fear. After just discovering Espers, their greatest power, the enemy had just done like wise, but with a bigger advantage.
“We need to go,” Celes said.
“I concur,” Cyan agreed. “There is nothing more we can do here, in these conditions.”
Going back they heard something. Footsteps besides their own through the rock. Celes reached for her sword, expecting to feel her falchion, then remembering it had been stolen. It’s just Locke and them, she thought. But not taking chances, she pulled out her new, smaller sword and got in a fighting stance.
She was shocked when a Vector soldier jumped out at her. She dodged and attacked him. She saw Cyan dive behind her. She turned to see the old man parrying an attack meant for her. He brought the saber up and struck his surprised foe. Otoshi stepped up to them. They stopped, shocked to see an Aquadalin already on the scene.
She quickly assured them she wasn’t on their side as she sent them back with a force of energy.
“Let’s go,” she said. They ran down to where the cove was. More soldiers continued toward them. But then they fell, one by one. She looked around before noticing Edgar standing on a vertical rock with his auto-crossbow, sniping the enemy as they came. He eventually ran out of bolts and had to reload. At this time Sabin jumped in for some hand-to-hand melee. Locke came around as well.
Cyan and Celes ran in to help, knowing even the Ox couldn’t take too many. After a few minutes, they were all but overwhelmed by troops. Terra looked at Celes, wondering what to do. Celes nodded. Terra stood up and stretched her hand to the air. She formed an electrical charge around her hand, and then shot it up into the air. It would signal Setzer, but it would also give them away to the rest of the isle. He had to get there quick. Celes then imitated the action, this time with a large flame.
Until then, they relied on Sabin’s strength and Otoshi’s amatru-ki to help against the ambushers.

“Whoa, Vulkrum is Kefka’s kid.”
“I know. Do you think we can trust him?’
“I don’t know, but I wouldn’t wanna take a chance like that.”
“You saying we need to ditch this?”
“Better do it quick. There are plenty of rafts, we can just take one and get out.”
“Right, I’ll go an’ get…you alright?”
“No, I don’t think he is.”
The older Imperial soldier was surprised to hear Vulkrum’s voice. He stepped from behind the other soldier who he had been discussing his abandonment. The other fell limply.
The older one looked down in speechlessness. “Don’t worry,” Vulkrum said, “I only hit him in the back of the neck with a hard rock. He’ll be back in a day or two. It’ll be fun. The two of you can plot an escape from the dungeons.”
Two higher-ranking soldiers grabbed him and took him away, as well as his cataleptic companion. Vulkrum chuckled. He juggled the big stone he had picked up for a few moments.
“What the ‘ell is that?”
Everyone looked behind them to see a bolt of lightning jettison into the sky. “Lightning isn’t supposed to work that way!”
“No it isn’t,” Vulkrum hissed. Spies, who had seen his speech and heard his plans. He crushed the rock in his hands. It had to be a signal of some sort; it would be too obvious had it meant to not be.
“Should we go down there?”
“No. If that was a distress signal then they’re already mingling with our men. Reinforcements will be coming, we are to stay and greet them.”
A zephyr blew through his hair. They looked up at the incoming airship.
The Falcon flew around, not to where the signal came from, but through the city. Multi-colored lasers shot out in every-which direction.
Vulkrum stood on a large rock in the ground, shooting spell after spell at it. Though relatively useless, he never backed down.
“Sir, shouldn’t we get the cannon on this thing?” someone suggested after a little more of the bombardment.
“Nay,” he answered. “The cannon is too hard to concentrate on a target as quick as this. Besides, I find this much more fun.” He smiled.

Vector sat on his thrown. He knew what was happening outside, and that somehow Vulkrum wasn’t going to use his best defense. “What is that boy thinking?” He signaled for one of his personal guards. “Go and prepare the cannon anyway.”

Setzer whooped as he maneuvered his ship through the air, shooting 7-Flush below him. What he needed was an H-bomb to wipe the army out, but unfortunately he had none left in his inventory. A major shame, though this could do just as well.
He felt a thrust, a very powerful one. He looked behind him. Something taken a good shot at his rear, taking some out. Was it that guy slinging spells? Nothing he had could do that. The second time he knew it wasn’t. A powerful blast had pierced through the ship completely. He manned the wheel, trying to gain control. He knew immediately what had happened; his engine had been destroyed.
He was losing altitude. No, no, no. They’re all counting on me, I can’t let them down, I can’t lose control. I need to stay clear of whatever that is. He finally found where it was coming from…but just saw a huge red blur come at him.

Terra saw as the Falcon was shot by the giant red beam. It had barely hit it, but the second really took a toll. He seemed to lose altitude. Then a final one that hit home. The airship flew—if that’s what you’d call it—into the distance, black smoke puffing out.
She felt hot tears. Setzer. Right now they were stuck, with no escape plan.

Vulkrum also saw the airship went down. “Looks accurate enough,” commented a satisfied soldier. Vulkrum grabbed him, then restrained himself from losing his temper. It was all Vector. He threw the soldier away and stormed into the palace.

“Vector!”
He greeted Vulkrum gaily with a cup of wine. “Ah, what is it?”
“You used my cannon!”
“Yes.”
“I gave no order to do so.”
“So you didn’t. But I did.”
“That is mine, mine Vector! You can’t—”
“Oh but I can,” he countered. “Once you entered the service of my Empire, everything became mine to use.”
“That’s not fair.”
“It doesn’t have to be. As long as I say.”
“You little bastard.”
“Calm down,” he said still gaily. “We won, we showed our power. And we got rid of that accursed airship. There’s nothing to be mad about, only proud.”
Vulkrum conceded. He held a cup of wine to the Aquadalin. “To pride.”
“To the Empire.”
“To honor,” they both said as they gulped down their drinks.

This post has been edited by Sherick on 3rd September 2006 15:42

--------------------

I fear my heart and fear my soul
Life goes on, it surely will,
Without me and I wonder:
Will I ever see light again?

Life goes on...

Chapter XVII: Afterstorm

The rain began to pour down hard. Terra followed behind Locke and the others as they tried to avoid the oncoming pursuit of Imperials. Terra’s bright spell presented her and her friends to the mass of the convocation. Otoshi tailed them, blasting out waves of amatru-ki whenever a few soldiers drew too close, and Terra began to wonder if the Vectors’ powers had any limit, as the Espers’ did. If an upcoming battle were to take place, it would important information to have.
However, for now they only needed to make it off the island alive.
Edgar and Sabin led them to alcove under a cliff on the eastern side of the island. Shrouded in darkness and sheltered from the downpour, they took a moment to catch their breath and regroup. They created a fire in the air to illuminate their surroundings, showing a large raft hidden in the darkness.
“This is where we shored,” Locke explained. “We need to get out of here, quick!”
“How?” Terra asked. “Those can’t get us out of here safely, let alone be able to outrun the Imperial ships.”
Locke scratched his hair, gazing at the raft. They heard metallic clanking.
“Better figure it out quick, they’re here.”
“No they aren’t.”
They turned to see Edgar kneeling on the ground, the fire illuminating the metal instruments he was tinkering with.
“What’re you doing?” Sabin asked.
“Trying to get something that can get us out of here.”
Sabin looked down quizzically at the contraption his brother was frenziedly conjuring, with great skill and haste. Even when he devised something incorrectly, he was quick to fix or replace it, never losing concentration. Terra wasn’t sure what exactly he was making, but was bulky and slender. He then pulled out three fat dagger blades, and handed them to Sabin, saying “Bend these, only a little, more curving, frontward to backward.”
Sabin grabbed the blades and used his great strength to do just that, then handed them back to his brother. Edgar used a weak fire spell to heat the bunt end of the blades and forged them one by one into the bulky contraption, measuring the distance between each one exactly.
“Okay, help me tie this onto the back of the raft. Quickly!”
Once they finished tightly securing the motor to the raft, Edgar tested it and instructed everybody to get push it to the shore and jump on. The rain and wind continued as he revved the motor up and set the raft on sail, fast enough possibly, to outrun the Imperial ships as they sailed out of the docks.


News quickly spread about the revelation of Vulkrum’s heritage, and his upcoming plans, and the size of his army. It also spread about the Falcon being shot down, and the fact that Setzer may very well be dead. But it couldn’t be supported for there was no telling what had happened to the airship and its components.
Once again Dornim had to sit and watch his companions grieve a fallen friend, who he once again knew little about.
Setzer was much closer to them than Shadow had ever been, especially to Edgar and Locke.
Locke looked around for Terra and found she was on a balcony. He followed the stairs up to the terrace overlooking the ocean. She was standing there looking over, but not really seeing anything.
“Terra?” he said. “Are you all right?”
She looked down. “Not really.”
“Is it about Setzer? Or Vulkrum, or Gau and Relm, or—”
“No…it’s…Shadow.”
“Shadow?” That had happened quite a while ago—months now—why was she just getting upset now? And most of all... why?
“Why Shadow?”
“It’s hard to explain.” She hesitated. “It’s about something that happened a few years ago.”
Locke remained silent for a few minutes, pondering whether to pry. Obviously, she had made the decision. “Four years ago, I think. After Kefka, after we celebrated, before we broke up. I met him, and we ate at his house, you remember, in Mobliz?”
Locke nodded. He remembered, Mobliz was where they had gone after their great victory to care for Terra. Shadow had requested a small house to himself.
“He talked to me, gently, like he never really did. Like on the ferry to Thamasa. He confessed that he felt…depressed, nihilistic, a bunch of things. He said he was on the edge of the will to live and only had one thing to think about.”
“Baram.” This was an old story, Strago had revealed it to them before dying a few years ago, though his reasons were a bit etchy.
“And the idea that he might have another ‘job’ to do,” she continued. “Like all the other times he avoided death. Then he talked about Thama and Relm.”
She turned around to face him. He saw her tear up again. By the look in her eyes, he understood.
“You loved him.”
“I fell in love with him. It was weird though; we never did anything. It all seemed like we both knew it, but never wanted to react. I thought I was in love with Léo. It was on the ferry with him, after we had a talk. Then I remembered, Shadow talked to me almost immediately afterwards. Then after he was killed, Lèo that is, I remember this feel of a great loss, like something was missing; that was also when we thought Shadow might have been dead.”
Locke remembered the look in her face as they watched Shadow obliterated by Vulkrum. It was obvious now. She cried again. She had held it back, but Setzer had just snapped something inside.“Please, don’t say anything to the others.”
He nodded again. He felt sorry for her. He knew how it felt…

Cyan was about to give a speech to the ranks of the Victory Returners. This time it was a full assembly in the big auditorium-like room. Edgar stood with him behind the stage.
“Are you ready? Know what you’re going to say?”
He sighed. “Aye. I am ready as I shall be.”
He turned around and stepped up. The assembly went silent. He cleared his throat.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thou may hath heard rumors of the enemy. About new plans of impeccable danger and a great army. Well, it is all true.”
He expected a murmur through the crowd, but they were silent. “And it is also true what may hath been heard about the so-called ‘heir of Kefka.’ We art not completely certain, though it is certainly a possibility.” A slight shiver went through at the mention of his name.
“Alas that is not our issue-at-hand. What is at hand is the former. An army, an army with weapons, power, and yes I admit it, great strategically leaders. And of course, as thou have undoubtedly all heard, the grand magicite, which has been dubbed Megacite.
“But we cannot think of the enemy’s advantages; we must find weakness. And that is our experience, our determination, and our greater power. But this is why am I speaking. After storm. That is what Vulkrum said the past day. That the Empire was going to strike in ‘a prevailing, larger-than-life after storm.’ Well, we whilst see.
“I present to you, our new plans against an even more powerful enemy. A team of our best, our brightest. They whilst be our main defense against the said enemy. I present to thee…our new regime; which will hence-forth be called the Victory Afterstorm!”

So the Afterstorm was created. Cyan had seen to it that the best that could be spared where assigned to this team. Edgar was immediately signed in as the lieutenant commander under Cyan, as they had planned. Locke, Celes, and Sabin became captains; none having more power than the other officially, though everyone knew Celes was higher in status simply because of her experience.
Terra caught Cyan in the hall one day. “Good marrow to thee,” he greeted.
“Cyan,” she said ignoring the greeting, “I want to be in Afterstorm.”
“Doth thee?” he asked surprisingly. But he seemed to understand. “That might be able to be arranged. After all, the power of the Espers hath helped thee.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Cyan.”
“Thanketh thee, Terra. We need more subordinates; not many are up to joining such a crazy scheme.”
“What do you mean?” she asked. “It didn’t seem anything like that to me.”
“The point of Afterstorm,” he explained, “is to do anything to keep the Empire at bay. There aren’t enough of us to head an actual brigade of any sort, so we are to do anything to make sure that our main army can withstand. Doth thee understand now?”
“I think so,” she said, still not quite understanding. Maybe she should ask Edgar.
Cyan noticed. “Well, maybe thee should wait until we make some more plans to understand. Perhaps I shall see thee then?”
“Yeah, probably. See you later.”

Mog got up late in the morning, the longest amount of sleep he had had for a while. As it turned out, those thugs he had defeated the day before had been a bad street gang out in South Figaro and countryside that mugged and stole. They were feared in this area, though Mog could not digest how.
He knew he had to leave, to get to the Returner Island, to do whatever it was he had to do, but it felt so refreshing here. The sea, which Mog hadn’t seen for three years, felt so nice and warm contrast to the cold harsh mines of Narshe. The light-hearted, peaceful ways of the citizens contrast to the gruff work ethic of the miners. Did he really want to rebuild that place?
He felt a tap on the shoulder. He turned to see the old port master David Harpoon.
“You’re Mog right?”
“Yes sir. How are you doing, Mr. Harpoon?”
“Ah, don’t worry bout me. I’m just getting older and fatter,” he chuckled, and his fat stomach jiggled. “Anyway, the patrolman told me your problem. Sorry that I can’t help with Narshe. But what I can do is,” he leaned closer and spoke quieter, “I could take you on a private ferry to the Returner’s place.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Yeah, you’re an old member of the Band, ’aight?”
“I can’t believe it.” Mog started increasing the volume. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen the Returned Isle! I—”
Harpoon clapped a hand over his mouth. “Shuttup!” he whispered. “The whole town doesn’t need to know I’m taking a Moogle to a confidential island. Goodness, boy!”
He released Mog. “So when are we going?”
“Anytime, I have nothing to do right now.”
“How bout now?”
“’Aight.”
They were sailing for a few hours before Harpoon talked to Mog.
“I forgot to tell you, the twins were here a week or two ago.”
Mog looked up from a book he had been reading. It was also a common stereotype that Moogles couldn’t read and weren’t very cultured. “Really? Edgar and Sabin? What were they doing?”
“Just leisurin’, I think the others were with ‘em too. They were chasin’ after this cloaked… thing; I helped them catch it.”
“Thing?”
“Yeah. I don’t know what it was.” He scratched his head as if trying to recall. “It was reptile like, red eyes, black scales…”
Mog slammed his book closed. “It looked like some creature from the sea? Snakish eyes?”
“Yeah,” Harpoon looked puzzled. “How’d you know?”
Mog was in thought. He had had a dream with this…creature in it. And it was here?
“I really need to see them…”

Chapter XVIII: Gau’s Misfortune

Gau had been very weary the last few days. Each day, soldiers came in, unchained him from the wall, and interrogated him. They asked him obvious questions about the Returners, to which he gave the obvious and truthful answer, “I don’t know.”
They didn’t believe him and beat him with batons until they were ready to ask again. Of course he didn’t know anything, he wasn’t even a Returner. He had no idea why they thought he knew such important things. They would then give him his some measly, usually stale food, then chain him back up, leave and let him sleep, then the next day they came back to repeat the process. He dreaded the day. He heard them approach. But when he saw them, they were not alone. This time they had Aquadalin accompaniment. What now? he wondered grimly.
The soldiers came forward and unchained him once again. Then one of them hit him in the stomach, taking the wind out of him. When the soldier looked as if he was to strike him again, an Aquadalin stepped forwards and ceased it. They said something that Gau didn’t hear and the soldiers walked to the doorway and stood in position. The creatures lifted him up and sat him in a chair next to a table for interrogation.
“Alright, boy,” one of them hissed out. But he knew what it was going to say.
“I told you already,” he interrupted, “I’m not a Returner, and I don’t know anything. I was at the base in Maranda—”
“Helping some old friends,” the Aquadalin finished. “We know.”
“Then what is this all about? I can’t be any use to you.”
“Do you really want to be of no use to us?”
No, Gau thought, that would mean I’m expendable. “Then why am I still alive? Or am I going to be?”
The creature smirked. “No, you will live, despite what these half-wits think.” He said it in not-so quiet words.
“What am I used for then?”
“Bait.”
“And Relm? She’s bait too?”
“She’s also been serving high-status individuals, such as the Emperor and Klee’on Rama.”
Rama, never heard of that one before. “Well, I sure don’t want to be tied here all the time. Let me do something, too.”
The other Aquadalin raised his brows. “You want to work for us?”
Gau did his shrug best he could. “Beats this.”
“So it does, all right.”
Gau sighed in relief.
“We are taking over as wardens and interrogators from now on,” they said to the soldiers behind them. They seemed to want to protest, but thought better than to speak against higher-ranking personnel.
They left him sitting in the chair, the most relaxing position he’d been in for days.

As promised, the new wardens got Gau out of the cell and into labor. It was just manual labor around the city. Building and rebuilding structures, helping crops, and working with weapon smiths. Many were surprised at how he did three tough jobs, which the warden had obviously done purposely. He had no problem getting out in the sun for hours, even though it was in Vector. But there always a few Aquadalins close by, whether it was the same ones or not, he couldn’t tell.
At night, he was thrown into a cell, which was fairly comfortable. The interrogations ceased, and he could rest well. After a few more days he continued his work with other prisoners—a small number, but were mostly unimportant criminals, though he had found some captured Returners. He noticed how they helped give each other strength. He wished he could see Relm, to give her courage, as she was probably more frightened than he. It hadn’t occurred to him that he was soaking up life as a captive and forgetting that he had to get free. Until one day.
He was with three other Returners helping crops. Then he felt a blow to the back of his head. He went to his knees and looked behind him. A tall, gruff looking man with a scornful face. He had been thrown in the prisons a week ago for planning mutiny against Vulkrum, he and another.
“You Returners make me so sick,” he spat. “’Specially you!”
The others tried to come up to him, but were pushed back by other Imperial convicts. He kneed Gau in the side. “I know you; I was a veteran in the Empire. Everyone knew of your sort. I also had to fight you in Maranda, as an Asassen, remember that? Nah, you wouldn’t. But there are some guys here who know you.”
He grabbed Gau by his shirt and lifted him up. He pushed him into a few other of his comrades, who held him open to the other. He picked up a hoeing tool and smiled sadistically. Gau gulped and tried to get free but there were too many men. He lifted up the hoe…
They heard a clang/thud and he fell down. Vulkrum walked hastily to the gathering with a mad look in his eyes. The convicts spread out.
“That’s twice I had to knock you senseless,” he scoured at the unconscious man.
Vulkrum walked to Gau and grabbed his shirt. “Hey, it wasn’t me,” Gau protested. “They started…”
“I don’t care,” Vulkrum cut him off. “It’s going to end.”
“It’s your Imperial cronies trying to start fights with us.”
“I don’t care,” he repeated. “You are the source. This is all why I didn’t want to set you out here.”
Gau looked at him. “You mean you didn’t assign those new wardens?”
“No, ‘twas Vector’s idea. You’d have been safer in jail. And, by the way,” he added, “the Aquadalins that were watching you were incapacitated by those renegades. All that for you.”
“I’m sorry,” Gau said, before realizing what it meant.
Vulkrum ignored him as he dragged him up to the palace. “So I’m going back?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Just keep me out here. If they try it again I can fight back.”
“You think I want that?”
Gau thought for a moment. “Well…no…I guess.”

Vulkrum brought him back to the cell room. “You’ll be safer in here,” he said again.
“That’s what this is about?” Gau queried. “You’re trying to keep me safe? Why?”
Vulkrum looked at first puzzled, then aggravated. He hit Gau in the head.
“Don’t think like that! You think I’m here to help you? I’m a freaking guardian angel? I am your captor, commander of the Imperial Army which you oppose.”
He kicked Gau hard in his already hurt gut. Vulkrum looked around and grabbed some rope that he used to bind Gau’s arms. He grabbed the neck manacle and put both his feet into it, tightening it uncomfortably. Gau was in an uncomfortable position, upside down. He saw Vulkrum going for the two lower ones. To his relief Vulkrum decided against it and dropped them.
“You get to stay like that, whelp!” he said quietly. “I’ll send someone to feed you in a few days.”

Chapter XIX: Hero’s Demise

Afterstorm’s first mission had to be planned out and delivered in privacy. Cyan racked his brain for days trying to decide an assignment that would bring good cause, but at the same time be simple enough to start out the new task force.
He stared out his window from atop the island bastion. Edgar paced behind him muttering to himself, obviously considering and discouraging possibilities mentally aloud. They had had a discussion earlier that made Edgar think more carefully about their choices.
Now Cyan, staring out at the sea, but not really seeing anything, didn’t even notice the steamship sailing into the dock.

David set anchor at the main port, and was approached by Returners who helped him unload equipment from his steamship. Mog stepped out of their way and looked up at the tall fortress. He had never seen this place completed, but now it seemed like an old memory. He sighed. He had wanted to come back, but never under these conditions.
He remembered his mission, and hastily set for the fort. They had said Cyan was in command, so he was more than likely busy at the moment, but everyone was here now. He felt more comfortable around Cyan anyway.

One of the guards outside the commander’s office knocked. “Commander Garamonde! There’s a—er—person here to seeeEEEEH—!”
The door slammed open. Edgar and Cyan barely saw as Mog darted through the doorway, with the guard stumbling behind him. Edgar grabbed the hasty Moogle and held him still. “Sir,” the guard said, bewildered by the small creature, “I couldn’t stop him, he—”
“’Tis all right,” Cyan reassured him. “He is a friend.” The guard saluted respectfully though looked oddly to Mog.
Once he left and closed the door, Edgar bombarded Mog with questions. Mog quickly explained everything, the Imperial takeover at Narshe, and Umaro’s sacrifice to save him.
“Then, there is but one thing left to do,” Cyan said grimly after moments of silence.
Mog looked up at him. “You mean it? You’ll go to Narshe?”
“Well of course we will,” he said with a little amusement at his little friend. “It’s a free land that has been ruthlessly conquered by our enemies.”
“Plus,” Edgar added, “our new team needs a new assignment; this is just what we made it for.”
Mog grinned and started a series of questions. “What is this team? What do they do? Can I help?”
“All in good time,” Cyan reassured him. “Maybe you should meet them first.”

A ship transporting Afterstorm left the Returner port at sunrise the next morning. The journey would take a few days, but not as long as the one Mog had made before by raft. He told of the house he had seen ruined, and discovered to whom it belonged, and they in turn told him what happened to Relm and Gau. Mog was brought up to date on many events happening lately, including the formation of Afterstorm.
Days later, the vessel arrived on the townless shores of the Narshe country. They had come with all of the Afterstorm team, which was twenty-nine all together, and an extra guard of twenty, and with Mog, fifty all together, all armed appropriately for having small numbers. They also carried magicite, in case worse came to worse and the Imperials used their own magic.
They began their trek west to the mountains. They took rest at midday, ate, rested, and made out battle plans. Cyan sent four scouts ahead to see if there were any patrols ahead of any sort. Sometime later, they returned.
“Sir,” one saluted. “There is no trace of Imperials far as our eyes could see. It should be safe from here ‘til Narshe.”
Cyan took a drink from a canteen. “Alright, good job, men.” They saluted and went off.
He turned round to Edgar and Sabin, who were having a small meal while looking at old maps.
“So, hath we succumbed to a decision?”
“Yes,” Edgar answered. “We decided to stealth through the mines. With Mog, we know them better, giving us the edge.”
“Then we can surprise attack them, and force them to surrender Narshe,” Sabin concluded.
“Hm,” Cyan considered. “Simple, but probable. Alright, tell the others and we’ll be off in a tick.”

Once again they continued westward. It became close to evening. After several more kilometers, scouts were again sent off, this time they would report what defenses the Imperials had taken and figure the best tactic around it. This time Cyan paced around a separate set up, no fires aloud to be lit. It took much longer than before for scout reports. Too long.
He heard the steps first, then voices with the sound of jingling equipment. Cyan lent his ears closer.
“Everyone,” he called out, “get ready, the fight is beginning!”

They all strapped on armor and weapons, moving over the hills…
And the Imperials yelled as they saw Afterstorm approach, readying arms; already prepared for battle. It was a trap. To the extent, though small flanks were forming, there was little to stop the Returners from retreating had they wanted. Cyan stood in front with his saber out. He let out a battlecry, and let his team know to charge forward.
But as soon as they charged, the Imperials, rather than charging in turn, stood and extended their hands. Out came a barrage of calls as multiple spells materialized from their hands to the Returners. Despite its great number, many of these mercs were untrained or unfamiliar with how to control magic, sending their spells worthlessly to the ground. It reminded Edgar of the first time he saw the Asassens, throwing spears flimsily into the sand of Figaro.
Taking the allowed time, the Returners returned with a volley of spells, much more perfect and deadly from certain few who had used it for years, slaying many. As they had feared, it had become an unorganized battle of magic, just like years past. Flame, lightning, water, ice, and other spells flew by. Finally the battle came to melee, many already hurt or killed by the far-range blows. Cyan raged at the front, slashing through, seemingly just to get to the other side. Edgar tried to keep up, but fell behind the old man. He looked around but could find no sign of Sabin, Celes, or Locke.

Cyan passed through the enemy forces easily. He could hardly believe himself that he had just about made it to the opposite side of the battle. Seeing that all around him had either based by or been stricken down, he allowed himself a moment of rest. That moment was ended when an obnoxious voice called out, “’Ey ol’ man!”
Cyan looked to see who was addressing him. Standing in front of him was a man in armor almost as sophisticated as Cyan’s, with a war helmet and long sword, with a face that looked as if it had been cleaned for the first time.
“To whom do I have the honor of addressing?”
“General Klee’on Rama, Sir Garamonde.”
“Well then, Major, I presume you wish to do battle?”
“Aye, I do.” He half smiled and drew his sword up. “But let’s us do somethin’. Rather ‘en use the magic as e’eryone else is, what’s say you an’ I just fight, eh?”
“Agreed,” Cyan accorded as he brought his own weapon to bare. At the same moment, they stepped forward and attacked each other with ferocity. As the blades clashed against each other, Cyan felt his opponent’s overpowering his own, if only by a little.
He scarcely noticed the battle behind them. After several minutes of dueling, he finally got a lock on Rama’s blade and drew it down. He felt Rama use all his strength to bring his blade from Cyan’s grasp, but to no avail. Finally, Rama let own arm loose of his weapon and socked Cyan in the face, forcing him back. As he stumbled backwards, Cyan half-tripped, showing weakness. Rama struck down, but Cyan reflexively brought his saber up to block, but without much momentum at all, the blade was set hurdling down the hill.
As Cyan regained his balance, he heard Rama’s cry and a prick in his chest. He saw a flash, then was on the ground before he knew what had happened. He looked up and saw Rama hovering like a buzzard. He looked down and saw that Rama’s blade had pierced straight through his armor and into his chest. He coughed, then felt a jerk of pain as the realization of being stabbed came to him. Gasping for air while trying to get on his knees, Cyan saw Rama run at him. He didn’t have time to react as Rama kicked Cyan hard in the body, sending him rolling.
As Rama came in for another attack, Edgar jumped right on him from the side. He used his own blade against his enemy, parried each time until eventually both of their swords flew out. Immediately, Edgar used fisticuffs to Rama’s face. He came back with his own blows to the face and gut. Rama stood up; he was taller and bigger than Edgar, making him stronger and more difficult. But Edgar knew there was no way of getting out.
Edgar jumped on him, hoping to bring him down. Rama fell, but quickly got back up in time for Edgar to kick him in the breastbone. When Edgar tried again, Rama grabbed his leg and hurled him in the air. Edgar landed with a thud, but got up as fast as he could, remembering that Rama was merciless when he had the opportunity. He also remembered Cyan and Rama’s vow to not use magic, so he would have to follow the same rules.
Rama charged him, both their armors making a loud metallic clash. Rama got up first. Edgar, seizing the opportunity, sweep-kicked his opponent. Edgar got up and, seeing as Rama tried to go for him again, grabbed him and threw him to the other side. Edgar approached him, but as Rama turned around, he used a short blade to cut Edgar’s face. Edgar turned around again, heard the word “FIRE!” loud in his ear, and was sent flying backwards as the blazing spell hit him square in the chest.
He fell on his hindquarters, with the wind knocked out of him, and tried to stand up. He saw Rama as he ran to another soldier, stole his sword and ran toward his opponent. Edgar couldn’t dodge. The blade pierced him. He yelled in pain and fell to his knees. Rama looked around, as if wondering if anyone was going to interfere, then he looked down at Edgar. Seeing him falling, Rama lifting his sword…and stabbed him again, this time going straight through the armor and through Edgar’s chest. He screamed. He coughed up a wad of blood, and fell backwards.
As he did, Rama stepped on him and pulled out his sword, though the weapon had a blood grove that would have allowed it to easily slide out. He smiled a most sadistic way. He kneeled down beside his fallen opponent. He pulled off Edgar’s armor, exposing his blood-soaked tunic. He wrung it on his own hand, letting it seep like water. He then leaned toward Edgar’s face.
“I told you I was out for blood. You all should’ve been warned. Death is all you have now, all you will ever have, for it is yer own fault.” He put the hand with Edgar’s blood to Edgar’s face, and poured it on him. Edgar didn’t have enough strength to stop him. “Taste the blood,” Rama whispered venomously. “It’s the last thing you’ll taste. You die for a worthless cause. Yer father must be so proud.”
Edgar heard a scream. Sabin flew out of nowhere and wrestled Rama to the ground. Rama cried in pain as Sabin viciously punched him in the face, and then he fought back and got up. Sabin grabbed him, and with his might, suplexed him over the hill. He heard several thuds as Rama rolled down, but did not look.
Sabin sat down beside his brother. He looked him over. “It’s alright,” he reassured him. “We can help you.” He tore his shirt off from under his own armor and used his to stop the bleeding. “We’ll patch you up, then you can go home, back to your family and kingdom. It’ll be fine, I can do everything here.”
He felt Edgar’s hand on his arm. “Sabin,” he croaked. Sabin leaned down to hear him.
“I…love you.”
Sabin stared down. Edgar’s eyes stared back, though no longer seeing anything. Sabin stopped. He reached over and closed his brother’s eyes, kissed his forehead, then set his head in Edgar’s soaked tunic and bawled.

Chapter XX: The King of Figaro…

**I wrote this chapter on December 7-8 2004, and it is dedicated to the memory of Dimebag Darrel Lance Abbot. It wasn't influenced by, but was actually begun while the events in Columbus took place. I heard it on the news the next day and finished this. Creepy coincidence, eh?**

They went back to Figaro Castle. Edgar had been born, raised, and reigned there, thus a proper place of burial. People from all over the Kingdom of Figaro gathered to mourn. Everyone from Afterstorm was there, everyone who had fought by Edgar’s side, or had been more than just in acquaintance…for the most part anyway.
Cyan wasn’t there; he had to receive emergency medical attention in South Figaro. He had received a large stab wound in his chest similar to Edgar’s, and no one was sure if he was going to live through the night. The funeral was held in proper tradition, in the castle courtyard. Sabin felt uncontrollable pity for Awin and Edwina, his sister-in-law and niece. He couldn’t confront them, or anyone. It was his fault.
The ceremony went underway. Everyone wore black and circled around an area where Edgar’s body was displayed. Sabin was expected to say something in remembrance to his brother, but he declined, to everyone’s surprise. It took more than a few hours, but Sabin’s mind wasn’t even in it. Afterwards, rather than staying with the others or doing anything in the main areas, he left to the higher levels, to the room that had once been his own.
Finally he was at peace, alone, and to himself. He sat on his bed, not knowing what exactly to do, or what was expected of him. He had nothing, no one left. First his father, when he was younger, in his later teens. Then his training partner Vargas—the only person he had grown to know for years—killed by Sabin’s own hand. Duncan dying not too long ago from sickness hit him hard, harder then any opponent could ever do. Only a few months ago now—though it didn’t feel that long at all—Shadow was dishonorably killed.
Now, his twin brother, the one person that had meant the most to him, ruthlessly taken away, just defending his friends. And now Cyan, who was like Sabin’s second mentor and one of the wisest men he knew, may not be alive long enough to help him grieve.
He lie back. It should have been him. He should have been the one to defend Cyan, to be slain. He deserved it more. Edgar had responsibility as a father, a husband, a king, and a leader of the Returners; Cyan had done nothing wrong his whole life, and he deserved to live out the rest of his life. After all he had been through; he shouldn’t have to die this way. It was Sabin’s fault anyway; he didn’t save his brother. He was too late; he had been trying too hard to win and get out alive rather than helping Edgar and saving his life.
I deserve to die, he thought.

Sabin rode out on chocobo to South Figaro. He tried to enter the facility where Cyan was being treated, but was denied. That had to mean something bad had happened. He rode more, not knowing where to go, not caring, just far away from anything. Somewhere in the northwest countryside, he dismounted the bird and walked.
He walked for miles, his head half empty and half full. It was long past dusk, but he didn’t care, the dark seemed to acquaint him and his thoughts. After hours of meaningless traveling, he figured out why he had wandered out here. Back in the younger days, years ago, they had rode out here. Back then they had to run away from the castle to be able to see anything, and they always did it at night. The mystery and adventure always invigorated them; it felt like that was all they ever wanted to do.
He had to laugh. Now that they finally had their adventure, all he wanted to do was go back to the way it was, with Father and Matron and Edgar. Before the whole crazy Empire thing came about, with Kefka and the Returners. He just wanted to live life out normally, not worrying about such important things, just letting his father and brother tend to it.
He saw images of them as boys running through the country, even though now the countryside was disfigured from his memories. He felt warm tears on his face as he watched his younger self running with his then-young brother, carelessly roaming, hoping for adventure. Sabin fell to his knees, then down completely. He cried into the earth: “Edgar, just come back. Let it all have never happened. Everyone’s alive, the war never happened. We are all living…like we should have.”
Night turned to dawn, with Sabin facedown in the open earth.

After searching all morning, they found Sabin and brought him back to Figaro.

After some treatment, which he really didn’t need, Sabin was up again. Now he couldn’t escape having to stand up and give his voice to people. He had known this was going to happen yet he still didn’t know how to cope with it, nor did he want to. With Edgar’s death, meant that there had to be a new king of Figaro… Sabin.
Hours past; Sabin hadn’t eaten, nor did he want to. He had been sitting on his bed all day, rethinking what he was going to have to say. Terra came in to check on him.
“Sabin,” she said in a small voice, “I think it’s time. Everyone’s waiting for you.”
Sabin looked down at the floor. “Alright then. Guess I have to.”
As he walked out, Terra looked as if she wanted to give some words of encouragement, but he left before she could. He didn’t need any encouragement.

The court was full of people, most of who had been here at the funeral a few days prior. A hush fell over them as Sabin stepped up to the dais. He coughed a few times, and tried to remember what he was going to say.
“In c-consequence of resent events,” he began, still uncomfortable, “it has f-fallen upon me to bring forth a new king for this nation.” He looked around until he met with the eyes of Awin. “And that I have.
“But, c-contrary to what most of you may think, it shall not be me.”
A murmur of shock and whispers went through the crowds. “As a matter-of-fact, I don’t know who it will be, and quite frankly I don’t care. I’m sorry, but I have a job to do; a job that Edgar would have wanted me to continue. I am going to follow the Returners and do whatever it takes to stop the Empire. And I believe that Figaro should help in the stand. But I am not the leader, so come to whatever decision you may.”
There was much more whispering. “Thank you all.”
As he stepped off the dais, he heard applauds. For somewhere, his brother was clapping for him.

As many guests went on about Sabin’s announcement—either approving or disapproving—one slid out and headed to the chocobo stables. One of the Figarans helped him mount. As he rode away, the Imperial spy thought, His Majesty will just love this.

Chapter XXI: The Battle Plan

Whilst the Returners mourned, Vulkrum felt a sensation of confidence. His army had now grown much more powerful and had had a nice addition. Anrolio Shimit, owner of the Colosseum and long-time Kefka Fanatic, had quit and devoted himself to his idol’s heir. This was greatly appreciated, seeing as Anrolio was one of the most powerful and wealthiest men in the world. This wealth was willingly given to the Empire for whatever they might need, even to help pay Klee’on Rama’s mercenaries.
He thought of the small rag-tag, militia-sized force he had started out with as he looked at his fierce army of hundreds, and at how little time it took to transform it. He walked down the main hallway of the palace when Vector walked up next to him.
“Well now, Commander, is it about time to address thy new forces?” he said with a smile on his face. “Hm? Maybe a little congratulations to the ones who successfully executed your ambush tactic at Narshe?”
Vulkrum sighed regretfully at the thought of having to get back into the “Kefka suit.”
“I despise that getup. I’ll ne’er find how my father did it.”
Vector chuckled. “Well, Kefka was a very odd man.”
“Majesty,” Vulkrum squeezed out respectfully. “Please do tell me a bit about him.”
Vector glanced sideways at him. “What is there about him you couldn’t read up in a textbook? ‘Tis Kefka Palazzo. I mean, what is there not to know? Or that you couldn’t simply look up in that mini diary of yours.”
“You kidding? For one he had terrible handwriting. For another, he didn’t seem to keep this for most of his life, from what I can tell. It’s all from just seven-or-so years ago. Just notes he wrote about all his enemies—‘cept you of course—nothing about himself at all. Not even anything about Mom or me. Besides, you knew him unlike others did.”
“Alright, alright,” he said almost reluctantly. “I didn’t know him all too well, though. He was just some arrogant rich kid whom Ministroa Gestahl picked up to be his left-hand man, gods know why. I’ll tell you one thing about him, though: Ministroa, Léo; all of us were scared of him more than anyone else I can think of. Obviously with good reason too.
He took a swig from a hip flask he was carrying around. “Anyway, that’s about anything you shouldn’t already know. Not much, but like I said, I never got to know the bugger ‘til he went mad.”
Vulkrum nodded. That wasn’t quite what he wanted to hear, but that was probably the best he was going to get.
“I guess I should go and talk to the mercenaries about money now.”
“Wha’s that, chief?”
He didn’t even notice that at the end of the hall which intersected with another, Klee’on was standing there waiting for him, covered in bruises and with a swollen eye and lip.
“I believe I’m yer ‘uckleberry,” he said smugly.
Vector nodded in greetings and walked off. Rama walked up beside Vulkrum who looked at his face and snorted. “Fall down some stairs?”
Rama glared at him. “Yeah, some damn big stairs they was, too. Say ‘bout a hill’s size, ‘specially after being thrown by a two ‘undred fifty-pound man. Like t’see you come out any better, boyo.”
“Remember, it’s not a good idea to insult your employer,” Vulkrum reminded him.
“Well, anyways, sir, I think I made a good blow. Two o’ their big shots are gone now.”
Vulkrum smiled. “Oh really? Who?”
“Dunno, one old guy who seemed very importantly dressed and was a fair swordsman an’ a taller one who was younger and also seemed important.”
Vulkrum thought he could recall one, from Kefka’s book. “Well, I suppose you’ll be wanting a bonus?”
“You’d be supposin’ right then, Vulk.”

After Sabin had gathered everything he needed, they all sat out from Figaro to South Figaro to check on Cyan. They hadn’t received any reports on his condition since he was admitted.
Sabin entered and spoke to one of the healers. After giving him the needed clearance—not that he needed any, they already knew who he was—the healer informed him that Cyan’s condition was at critical and he wasn’t sure if he could make it. Then he told him that someone else had come in earlier tonight; Sabin asked whom.
“I don’t know,” the healer said. “They kept their hood up shadowing their face, but she had a woman’s voice, a bit croaky, but just the same. She had the right kind of clearance so we let her pass.”
“Is she still here?” Sabin asked hastily.
“Yes, she’s still in the commander’s room, but…”
Sabin speeded past him and down the hall into Cyan’s room. Beside Cyan’s bed, someone knelt in a black cloak with her hands folded in front of her.
“Hey!”
“Shhhhh,” She said.
He walked by her. “What are you doing, Otoshi?” he demanded.
“Stand back,” she said with a concentrated voice.
“What are you doing, Otoshi?” he repeated.
“I said get back,” she said more sternly.
“And I asked what you’re doing—” he was sent back by a force he hadn’t expected.
“Otoshi!”
She sighed. “If you’d shut up,” she emphasized the last word with another shove of power, “and get back,” she shoved again, “then I may be able to heal him.”
Sabin took a step back and kept his questions to himself. He closed the door behind him and remained silent. A hum went through the air followed by an odd sound. They stood for a good fifteen to twenty minutes before the sound stopped. Sabin thought to say something, but couldn’t find his own voice.
Otoshi stood up rather warily, and a few seconds after, Cyan coughed and raised his head. He looked to both of them. “What may I ask is going on? Has something happened?”
Sabin stared at Otoshi as he spoke. “No, we’re just checking up on you.”
“Oh…well, I’m…doing fine,” he said, surprising himself with his words.
“Uh, we’ll be leaving now,” Sabin said, pulling Otoshi out of the room.

In the hall, Sabin looked to make sure no one was around before returning to Otoshi.
“How’d you do that?” he whispered. “We tried everything our magic would and it didn’t do it.”
“Well, it took awhile.”
Sabin exhaled a big sigh. “You made me nervous. At first I thought you were siding with…”
He cut off when he saw her look away. “You aren’t siding the Empire, are you?”
“Well…sort of. I mean…”
“What? What do you mean?”
She turned away. “Utam is my brother, and my leader; I still have loyalty to him.”
“But…” Sabin tried to think what to say. “You can’t be. I mean, you’ve seen what he’s done. He’s—“
“I know, he is different than he was before. Much different. He used to not like war, he hated fighting, and the only reason he would was to protect our people.” She hesitated. “War is never good, so you must avoid it whenever you can, but if the time arises, you cannot back down. My brother said that.”
Sabin contemplated this over. She didn’t like war, or what Vector was fighting for. But she loved her brother, and she would do whatever she could to stop the war and protect her kind. He couldn’t say he really disagreed.
She sighed. “The years have shown that we can defeat anything.”
“So…?”
She looked up into his eyes. “So I will continue to work alongside the Returners to prevent anymore damage that may be cause by Utam Duvaluu.” She smiled wryly. “This has to end…for good.” The Esper Ramuh’s speech had seemed to change her perception.
Speechlessly, Sabin embraced her.

Locke, Celes, and Terra strolled down the streets of South Figaro down toward their house. Celes insisted on showing Terra some of the new stores in the market since the last couple of years. Locke went ahead to his house. He thought he heard something go by. Of course I did, he thought, this is the city, there’s always sounds. I’ve been away too long, I’m getting paranoid as Sabin.
Then he knew something odd was going on when he heard footsteps behind him, a fair distance away. He sped up just a little bit; so did whatever was behind him. He sped up, then suddenly drew out his sword and swung back, not trying to kill.
But his strike was parried by another blade. He looked right in front of him, and then realized he would have to look up to see his pursuer. Of course…it just had to be Siegfried.
“What’re you doing here?” Locke asked, pushing his blade against the others.
Siegfried swirled his blade circularly so that Locke’s guard was down and Siegfried’s sword was before his throat. Locke smirked.
“What is so funny, punk?” Siegfried asked sternly
“Behind you.”
Siegfried half turned his head to see Celes’s blade at one side and Terra’s at the other.
Siegfried snorted. “So you aren’t that stupid. But you don’t think you’ve outfoxed me?”
Suddenly Celes and Terra were knocked out of the way. Locke tried to see what had happened, but before he could, Siegfried struck him with the butt of his sword, knocking him down. Now he finally saw what it was. A huge, muscular-seeming octopus crawled up to Siegfried, then used two of its tentacles to grab Terra and Celes and suspend them.
“Put them down, Ultros!” Locke yelled.
Siegfried nodded to Ultros, and he dropped them. Immediately after, Terra jumped up and used a force of magic to power herself up until she had transformed into her Esper form. She attacked Ultros, who screamed and flailed his many limbs. Celes managed to get her off the octopus.
“Well tha’s just great!!” Ultros complained. “We just cum on down her to give yuz a bit of a hand and tha’s how ya repay us, HMPH!”
“What’d you mean?” Locke asked. “You attacked us!”
“Oh, well,” Ultros stuttered, “well, we had to get yer attention somehow, and I don’t think you’d have accepted us if we’d walked up to yer front door now, d’ya?”
“…Right.”
“Anyway, we—”
“What do you mean give us a hand?”
“Well, if you’d let me exp—”
“You tried to kill us!”
“Yes, well—”
“…On more than one occasion!”
“I’m reformed!”
“Why should we listen to you?”
“JUST SHUTTUP!”
“It has to do with the Colosseum,” Siegfried said. “Shimit defected to the Empire.”
“What?” they all three said.
“Augh,” Ultros said, lighting a thick cigar in his mouth, “the old guy just all-a-sudden announced it. Yeah, he said the Colosseum was donefor and that we were all excused.” He inhaled then puffed out smoke. “Unless o’ course we wanted to follow him and make some money helping out the Imperials, which I don’t do so me, and big Sieg ‘ere are free agents. Problem is, there’s nowhere for an octopus to make any money round here.” He inhaled again. “Stupid bastard, made me start smoking again.”
“So you came to us.”
“Yeah, you’re the opposers, ain’t cha? The ‘good guys?’”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“Then alright.”
He didn’t think he understood their motivation, but he didn’t want to have to listen to anymore of Ultros’s explanation. And they were already on his side, which was good enough.
Locke looked from Ultros to Siegfried to Celes to down the road where Cyan and Sabin were. “This is going to be very different.”

Dornim was upset he couldn’t have come any sooner from his office to South Figaro. But now his personal ferry was arriving at the port.
As soon as he and his entourage disembarked, they were met by a chocobo-rider of Figaro, acting as a Returner messenger.
“Coman—…I mean General, Commander Garamonde has sent me to receive you.”
Dornim felt a rush of relief. So he’s okay, he thought. “Yes, okay. Do you know how he is doing?” he asked the messenger.
“Well, as far as I know he’s able to breathe and talk. Sorry, sir, but I’m not high on the status list,” he replied sardonically.
“Alright fine. Just take me there,” Dornim said rather snappily.

Even though Cyan hadn’t died, he was in bad condition. Even Otoshi couldn’t help enough to get him back into a fighting shape, or even able to stand properly. He had been moved to a different, bigger room that seemed a bit decorative, even though they had tried to keep his presence as secretive as possible. Everyone had gathered around Cyan’s bed.
Dornim entered and they rose to greet him. He walked up to the bed where Cyan was sitting up against a few pillows. He smiled.
“Doing okay then?”
Cyan sighed. “Aye, but I’m afraid I can’t be of much use in this condition. So, I have something to say.”
Dornim came closer to hear Cyan’s unusually quiet voice, even though he was pretty sure he already knew what he was going to say.
“I will have to submit my field duties, of course to Dornim.”
Dornim barely stopped himself from smiling—knowing it was rather inappropriate at the time—even though he had felt it coming. Cyan sighed again.
“I’ll be returning to the island to take-up thy duties.” He yawned. “Now, if thee will please excuse me, I am a bit tired; I’m going to sleep.”

Dornim could not hide the fact that Cyan’s news thrilled him. For too long he felt he had been cooped in the office on top of the island, even after he gave up his supremacy to Cyan, who had taken this new power onto the field, which is one of the places Dornim hadn’t been to.
Finally, he was going to get to be in the field, with the action, with all the people who he respected and admired so.
Walking out of the ward, he was surprised that he hardly noticed the huge purple creature in the lobby. One of the staff was arguing with him to put out his big cigar inside the building.
“Hey look lady, I can smoke in here if I feel like it.”
“No, I’m sorry, sir, but smoking is not permitted in here,” she insisted.
“Humph!” The creature took in a big puff of smoke, then blew back in her face. “Alright, toots, make me.”
He gave her a toothy smirk and she made a wry face. Dornim stepped in. “I think I will.”
The creature stumbled back, startled. Then he got back his composure. “Hello, Mr. Hero. You don’t know what you just got yourself into.” He chuckled.
Dornim reached for his sword, but felt a sword blade on his arm. He looked behind him to see a big, tall man covered in a dark violet cape and a facemask. Dornim moved his hand slowly away from the handle. He used his other hand to reach for the sword he had hidden under his coat…
“Hey!”
They all looked over where Locke had exited Cyan’s bedchambers. Everyone else joined them. Siegfried lowered his blade. “This isn’t any of your business, Returners,” he said coldly.
“Hell if it isn’t,” Locke said. He looked at Dornim. “Sorry, forgot to say. This is Ultros and Siegfried, they’ll be helping us.” He then looked to them. “Boys, meet your new commander.”
They both stumbled back shocked. Dornim grinned. “All right then. We all ready to leave?”

It wasn’t but a few seconds after they left that a Figaro patrolman rode up to them, his chocobo dragging a makeshift stretcher.
“Excuse me, sirs,” he said panting, “but I must get this man to care.”
He dismounted the chocobo. The man on the stretcher was soaked from head to toe, had most of his cloths ripped off, and his silvery hair filled with algae and weed was straggly. Sabin lifted him up and accompanied the patrolman back into the building and everyone else followed.
They took him to an unoccupied room where Sabin set him down on a divan.
“I was doing a routine coast patrol,” the patrolman explained, “and this guy was just lying there in the sand, like he was swept by the water. Kind of spooky, actually, that this is the second one we found. Little back one man found a Moogle on the shores.”
Mog blushed. “Anyway,” the patrolman said, “I’ll just be off. G’day,” he tipped his cap.
After he left, they all crowded around the unconscious man. Locke looked around at them.
“What should we do?”
“Hey you, get ‘im some water!”
“He doesn’t need anymore water, Ultros!”
“It’s a good waker-upper. Hey, hey!” he beckoned to a nurse who had been filling up a pail of water per his command. “You, don’t dump that, bring it over here!”
“Ultros…”
“Maybe we should have the big guy here slap ‘im.” He nudged Sabin.
“ULTROS!” they all shouted.
“What? You have any better ideas, Locke?”
In the meantime, the man on the divan regained his consciousness. “L-Locke?” he muttered. “Ultros?”
Sabin cradled his head. “Hello? Are you okay?”
“Sabin?”
“What? Do I know you?”
“Sabin!” he grabbed the Ox’s shirt. “It’s me, Setzer!”

Setzer washed his face up a little and properly dressed himself. He had gotten a tan from the time he had spent outside by the shores and his face was a little gaunt from lack of food.
He explained how the Falcon had crashed on a nearby remote island; how he had survived by going under deck; how he broke his own heart by breaking off wood from the ship to create a boat to sail to shore. They in turn explained, yet again, all the procedures that the Returners had taken since then.
“Well,” he said, “I wish I could give you a lift, but as you can see, my airship is no longer available. Ever.”
Sabin sympathized for his friend. He knew what the airships meant to him, especially Daryll’s.
Setzer sighed. “But I’m going to help somehow. That’s what I came back here to do.”
“For now, let us get our plan in action,” Dornim suggested.

In the cabin of Dornim’s personal vessel, they set up models and maps.
“As far as we can tell, their army has tripled from our first fight to not too long ago. And they may have almost quadrupled from the first battle to now. But I still think we have enough force to stop them.
“Now according to Ultros, they now have the power of Anrolio and whatever monsters he brought with him. And obviously they now have some use of magic, not much I’d guess.”
“And those fish guys,” Ultros put in.
“The Aquadalins?” Sabin asked.
“Yeah, them. They are like all over the water, not just around the island. I’m the King of Octopi and I was shooed out. I think they’re plannin’ something, personally.”
“Well, that’s nice to know,” Dornim said. “Now if we can decide what to do about it.”
“Way ahead of ya, chief!” Ultros said. “I already got my old boys ready to take back our territory, and many others who want to kick some ass, as well! All we need is some support.”
Dornim grinned. “Then let’s give you some. C’mon guys, the rest will be obvious! Here…”

“I’m not so sure it is that obvious,” Otoshi muttered. She stepped out of the cabin and onto the deck to think. The decision was made, she would fight against her brother and her people…but she still felt insecure. She heard footsteps on the wood, and turned round. Terra came after her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You don’t have to ask,” Otoshi replied quietly.
Terra nodded. After a few moments’ silence she put her arm around the Aquadalin. “It’s alright,” she assured, sincerely. “We will get through this. And we may not even have to…you know…”
“Yes,” she said, but having almost no confidence one-so-ever. “But maybe not.”

In the dead of night outside Vector, an armada of ships gathers through the cleared up mists. At the helm, Dornim watches out toward the island with a spyglass. Behind him, the ugly creature of an octopus slithered up behind him. “Bout ready there, chief?”
Dornim lowered the spyglass, but didn’t look to the creature. “Too close now…”
“I’m pumped.”
Dornim kept his gaze straight ahead.
“What’s wrong, man? Looks like yer miles away.” Ultros seemed to have a general concern. It may have just been taunting.
“I’m…just...”
“Cummon, out with it.”
Dornim sighed impatiently. “I’m not too fired about dueling my kin.”
“Come ‘gain?” Ultros sounded quite interested.
“Klee’on Rama…Dornim Rama? He’s my uncle. Yeah, my own uncle, Bannon’s brother, a Returner hater.”
“I sense a bit of story here?”
Dornim snorted. “Nothing to tell. He’s a maniac, Klee’on. I hope Sabin gets revenge for Edgar.”
Ultros chuckled, amusement. “And…if he doesn’t?”
“Then he’s all mine.”
Further conversation was cut short when an officer came for’ard. “All ready to go, Commander,” he saluted.
“Go, uh…Ultros?… get ready.”
Ultros smirked and dove over the helm into the water where he was meat by several many odd sea beings and beasts, followed by what looked like a ghastly streak of purple-and-white cotton with a toothy mouth flying down into the water after them, making undistinguishable gurgling sounds.
Dornim took a few seconds to register what he just saw, then gave up and walked toward the cabin.
“People!” he shouted. “Let us get ready!”
There were no second thoughts now, no indecision or doubts. And one way or another…Klee’on Rama would die.

Chapter XXII: The Final Battle

The Royal Guards stood outside the city walls, leaning against their pikes so that they wouldn’t fall asleep. One of them nudged the other to wake him up.
“Hey, hey, look!”
He looked up. “What?” Long way down at the beach, a large boat landed anchor and many people were jumping out.
The Aquadalin came awake in a snap. “Guards! Guards! Get everyone, we’re being invaded!”

By the time Dornim along with Sabin and Setzer led the first few groups, soldiers were already rallying together down at the castle.
“So much for a surprise attack,” Dornim muttered.
“Oh, I think this is good enough surprise,” Sabin assured.
“Right, let’s go!”
At that signal, Returners were jumping out of the ships onto the shores. “Remember to give cover to Celes’s group,” he added.
They were still far enough to stop and let many more join them for now. God, I hope we can do this…

Celes’s party came on the opposite side of the island. The island of Vector had changed. When the world was in balance, it was a great island with cities surrounding the palace. Now there was just the city and rows of mountains behind it.
The team comprised of Celes, Locke, Mog, Otoshi, and Terra, who was streaking through the mountaintops in full Esper form, quick to take down anyone in the way. It was hard for the others to keep up.
Nearing the back of the castle, a small group of soldiers gathered what seemed to be a back entrance. They held weapons at the ready. Terra spotted them and leaped up for a charge. They immediately cast high-leveled fire spells at her that made her hit the ground. Celes, right behind her, shot out an equally powerful ice attack unto all guards, knocking them flat, but not ending it.
They got back up and ran a charge with their swords, some possessing battleaxes. Terra also got back up and stood unflinching. With a flick of the wrists, magic flew once again unto the attackers, this time leveling them flat. They didn’t get up this time.

It was almost surprising how quickly the Imperial Army assembled. It also did not take long for all the Returner ships to unload. By now, Dornim had figured the pros and cons for both sides: the Returners had quite a larger number than the Imperials. However, the Imperials—the real Imperials—were more experienced with the use of magic, and many were experienced warriors with knowledge of the landscape, and not to mention all the bloodthirsty mercenaries, and small groups of strong monsters.
But Dornim’s favorite advantage wasn’t the number, but the actual warriors. Of course there was he, and Setzer was helping as well, but not much could beat Sabin’s ferociousness as he attacked the opponents; and probably the best advantage was Seigfred, whose grace, swiftness, and godly accuracy could awe the mind. Unfortunately, in this great mess of fighters it would be impossible to spot Klee’on, if he could even survive.
It seemed like hours of fighting; the moon had begun to set, but the Imperials set up huge flames near the castle. He swung his claymore at an upcoming soldier, killing him swiftly. He leaned over for a bit of rest, and looked up toward the palace. It just about astounded him.
Standing in perfect silhouette in front of the flames, Klee’on, Dornim’s uncle, stood with pride in sparkling armor, only spoiled by blood of adversaries. He spotted Dornim eventually, double taking, and then without hesitation ran up to him. Dornim tried with all his strength to bring his sword to bare, but felt as though he couldn’t. When he looked into Rama’s face, he didn’t see a demented, bloodthirsty killer, but rather his old Uncle Klee’on from when he was little.
His uncle smiled. “I ne’er dreamed this ‘ere would happen.”
Dornim chuckled. “Yeah, small world.”
“But ain’t it a bit pointless?”
“Ain’t what?”
“This,” he motioned to the battlefield around them. “I look and I see pointless causes.”
Dornim straightened up. “No, I don’t find it pointless, fighting for something you believe in, Uncle. That’s what always made you so different.”
Klee’on stared down at him in amusement. “You really ‘ave grown up, eh kiddo?”
Dornim snorted and looked around…then he heard his uncle whisper, “Mistake…”
He felt a strike to his head. Klee’on lifted his sword, and Dornim his claymore to deflect. But it was to no use; Klee’on’s much greater strength hit it out of the way. Rama grabbed his nephew around the neck and lifted him up. “And just like yer father, you die for a pointless cause.”
Dornim reached for his concealed blade, but couldn’t reach. He felt the breath leaving him, and his uncle applied more pressure. Out of nowhere, he felt another strong tug.
“Gerroff! Gerroff!” His uncle shouted. One of the only people with similar build as Klee’on, Sabin had grabbed him in his own headlock. Rama back head butted him in the face a couple times with his helmet. Not even reaching up to wipe the blood from his lip, Sabin tore off Rama’s helmet and threw it onto the ground.
Klee’on used one arm to elbow Sabin in the gut. With that pressure taken off, Dornim reached again for his concealed blade. This time he found it. Using the exposed end, he thrust it back—nicking himsel

This post has been edited by Sherick on 29th August 2006 00:44

--------------------

I fear my heart and fear my soul
Life goes on, it surely will,
Without me and I wonder:
Will I ever see light again?

Life goes on...

Having broken into the castle, Celes’s party raged through. Celes had a good remembrance of the schematics; Otoshi had a near perfect recollection. It didn’t seem like long before they had made it to the brightly-lit main hallway, from there it was just straight into the throne room.
There was an antechamber before the actual throne room. The five of them stood for a moment in front of the door. After those moments of looking to each other, the door opened itself. They stepped back, as Emperor Vector and Commander Vulkrum came eloquently through the doorway, the former in fluent decorative robes, and the latter in the ever-welcoming colors of the Kefka-esque suit. “Well what do you know!” Vector said most graciously. “Visitors, at this hour?”
“While your very own people are being destroyed by mine?” Vulkrum added.
“Good point,” Vector granted.
“Utam!” A quiet voice came from the back.
Vector looked toward it quizzically. “Who is that?”
Otoshi approached. Awed disbelief filled Vector’s eyes. “Otoshi! Dear sister, I thought you were long gone.”
“I’ve been looking for you, Utam, I knew you weren’t dead, they had said you were alive!”
They embraced. “What is this all about, Utam?” she asked. “Why are you doing this?”
Vector stared blankly at nothing. “I don’t know.”
“Then let it end.”
He looked back to the others, then back to his sister. “Let’s go home.” Hands interlocked, they entered the throne room.
When Locke tried to follow, Vulkrum got in his way. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
“It’s over, Vulkrum.”
“No!”
Celes joined him. “Your king is in their contemplating a way to end this war, you have nothing left.”
“I have my sword!” he barked back.
“But nothing to fight for,” Mog said, the first thing he had said since they arrived.
“I have myself!”
“And to what cause?” Terra asked.
Vulkrum stared daggers at them. Terra looked into his eyes, knowing what to expect through the make-up, but it was different. Kefka never had that flame in his eyes. Kefka hated for the sake of hating…this man had a purebred loathing.
In great speed, he unsheathed his sword and struck down at Locke’s. Vulkrum wasn’t very tall, but he was taller than any of them were. Celes joined in with her weapon. Vulkrum expertly dueled both of them. When the opportunity came, he knocked Locke back. Mog ran up with his metal spear. Mog ran the element of surprise and knock Vulkrum against the wall. Terra got out her weapon as well, dropped from her Esperian form, and once Locke got back up, they all forced their blades up to Vulkrum’s face.
He stared at them, knowing he was defeated. His weapon dropped. “Kill me,” he said. “I was defeated, now kill me.”
Terra looked at Locke who looked at his wife. She looked deep into Vulkrum’s face, and then got an idea.
“Maybe in a minute, but first…” she used the cape she wore to wipe away his facepaint. He did not resist. She squinted. “I think I just figured out something. You’re Mauvi’s son, right? And you say you’re also Kefka’s.” She saw them give her quizzical looks. “How old are you?”
He looked at them, then reluctantly mumbled, “…Twenty.”
And that almost made them all stumble. Twenty? Terra thought. He looks and acts too old. Locke is almost thirty and he acts eighteen.
After catching herself, Celes went on. “Well, that’s still too old. The Emperor gave Mauvi to Kefka when I was fourteen or fifteen. That’s not enough time.”
“So what’re you saying?” Vulkrum grew anxious.
“Vulkrum, you aren’t—you can’t be—Kefka’s son at all. You’re Gestahl’s.”
He raised his eyebrows. By now they had all let down their weapons. He slowly walked past them, looking quite numb, thinking about it. Celes whispered to Locke, “Let him go, he’s probably going to just sit there. We have to see what’s going on.”
He nodded and they all headed toward the door.

Gau knew he had the chance now. No one had yet come to feed him or watch him or anything. He could barely something going on outside. In the uncomfortable position with his lower body hanging up, he stretched his arms back into a “hidden” pouch in his trousers to bring out his gift from Shadow.
He looked once more to the door, and then used the knife to severe away at his bonds. After he untied himself, he pried off the manacle on his ankles and jumped up. He would have stretched or exercised a little bit, but there was no time. He ran and opened the door. He had to find Relm.
As he ran through the prison hall, someone jumped at him. Pinned down against the floor, Gau recognized his attacker as the incarcerated Imperial who he had confronted outside.
“Where ya goin’, boy?” he said quietly, almost hissing.
“I don’t have time,” Gau said irritatingly. He threw the attacker off of him and handspringed up. The traitor hadn’t been ready for him. When he tried to attack again, Gau was ready. Quickly yet silently, he grabbed the man’s arm, twisted it up, and then launched him into the door. His head hit the corner right where the stone wall pointed. Gau had not meant for that to happen. The man fell down, crying and clutching his destroyed nose. Feeling sympathetic, Gau put his two fingers to his neck, applied pressure, and watched the man pass out. He threw him into the prison room and closed the door. Now he would go to find Relm.

After being released from Vector’s service, Relm had been made to serve a slightly small barrack of middle ranked soldiers. Every once in a while one would come on to her, but there was always some others who would shun him off. This was one of those times.
One soldier, seemingly drunk, put his arm around her. She wasn’t frightened anymore though. He said some things to his friends and laughed drunken. He smoothed her hair with his hand. Eventually two or three came up.
“Alright, that’s enough,” he demanded.
“What? Nuttin’ wrong wit having a little fun, eh?” He giggled again.
“There is a war going on, Lieutenant! Our fellow soldiers are risking their lives and dying!”
“Well, if’n we’re all gonna die, I might as well have some fun first.” He smiled sleazily and his friends laughed.
“Give her here!”
“’Ey!” he moved back. “I decide what to do wit the bitch, alright!” Now it was getting fierce. Another soldier, smaller than the others, came forward as well. “What? Get back, punk!” The drunken lieutenant reached clumsily for his sword. The small soldier brandished his own and stabbed the lieutenant. The room fell silent.
Then they jumped at him. He attacked them all, eventually dropped his weapon, and then went at it physically. As some tried to pass her, Relm turned around and toppled a table over at them. She kicked another in the groin.
After they were all down, the small soldier came up to her. She stepped back, ready to get into fighting position. “Relm.”
She looked inquiringly. He took off his helmet. “It’s me, Gau. C’mon, let’s get out of here!”

Upon entering the throne room, there was an eerie feeling of desolation. Everything seemed to have a red glow, and a small gust could be felt. Terra looked straight forward to see the thrones, when she saw the limp form of an Aquadalin flying towards them. They moved out of the way as it slid against the floor. Terra turned it over…Otoshi, dead.
Terra closed her eyes to make herself not shed tears. Why? She thought. Why does this keep happening?
They all looked back up. Vector was levitating in the air, swirling the red glow and warm wind with his robes twirling. He lowered, his eyes glowing.
Terra just noticed a sound that had seemed so ominous going out. Vector had been laughing.
“Utam!” she yelled. “What…what have you done?”
He looked down at her, regaining his breath. “We had a little…disagreement about the motivation of the Empire.”
She curled her fists; she had had enough. She began to run at him. He thrust out his hand and she made a sudden stop. She couldn’t move. The others fell down as well. Vector touched down and walked toward them. He paced in front of them.
“Let us see,” he said, “who’s first?”
He went to Locke. He reached into his pocket and brought out a small black book. “Let us see. ‘A thief with little common sense, thickheaded, serves no threat.’ Hm,” he snorted, “can’t see what she would find in you.”
Locke made as if to hit him; Vector casually moved and hit him back. He walked next to Celes. Once again he read from Kefka’s journal. “‘Traitorous little witch…’”
This time Locke jumped at him. He closed the book with one hand and grabbed Locke’s arm in another. Also casually, he snaked around to Locke’s back and twisted his arm up. Locke yelled. Terra closed her eyes as she heard the sound.
Vector loosened up, then picked up Locke by his arm and threw him against the huge metallic door. Vector walked past Mog, and to Terra. He opened the book—which he had kept marked with his thumb—and read to himself. After a few seconds he threw the book over his shoulder.
“I need something to have fun with.” He kneeled down. “Come on, Esper.” He raised her chin with his finger. “Show me the power.”
She closed her eyes and moved her head back. This made Vector mad. He grabbed her and threw her, knocking her against a stand of decorative plants.
Locke, clutching his arm, propped himself up against the doors. “Leave her alone, fishface!” he yelled.
Vector turned around and shot out blue bolts of lightning at him. He screamed out as he was electrified.
Vector looked back to see that this upset Terra. He turned back around and shot Locke again. Terra raised herself up, hair covering her face. In a flash of blue light, she was once again in full Esperian form. Vector half-smiled as he felt the jolt of power. They charged at each other, suspended in the air—similar to the way he and Kefka had in the dream.
Terra retracted and flew up past the throne, up the staircase to the side that led to the roof; he followed. Once sure they were gone, Celes and Mog hurried over to aid Locke.

The scene at the top of the palace showed Vector standing over a fallen Terra, back in human form again, blood dripping…
Vector laughed in amusement and twirled his knife around as Vulkrum walked up the stairs towards him. “Well hello there, my valiant commander. Come to view over your army’s great success?”
Vulkrum barely gave a look backward to the battle below. “How come you didn’t tell me?”
“Tell you what?” Vector asked innocently with a smile on his face.
“You said that Palazzo was my father, well he isn’t!”
Vector smiled wider. “Yeah,” he snorted. “Gestahl was your dear old dad, wasn’t he?”
“You knew? And you said…”
“Exactly what I needed. What we needed. What if I had said you were Ministroa’s son? What would we have gotten? Some old Imperial loyalists. But as the son of Kefka we obtained everything we needed, Fanatics, Anrolio, Imperials, and anyone else who was ballsy enough. Plus you pulled the make-up very well, that put a lot of fear into everyone,” he added. “That is the key to everything.”
Vulkrum remembered invading cities, the head of the army, the looks in the eyes of everyone. They weren’t scared of him; they were terrified by the memory of Kefka…
“You liar…”
Vector just laughed. Vulkrum gritted his teeth.
“Now, now, my child, let us prepare for our upcoming victory.” Vector turned to return to the throne room. Vulkrum launched at Vector, his sword already in his hand, and yelled as it finally plunged right into the scaly Emperor. He stared right into the Aquadalin’s eyes. Vector limped down and fixed his eyes on Vulkrum’s. Then Vulkrum heard him snort.
Vector pulled out the blade from his side. Whilst Vulkrum looked in bewilderment, Vector kneed him in the stomach and elbowed him in the head, knocking him on the ground.
“You…missed,” Vector said, breathing rather heavily, but not bleeding. “You traitorous, little, arrogant, blockheaded, backstabbing son of a submariner.”
“You’re the one to talk,” Vulkrum said, crawling away from Vector. “Even though you seem to hate him so much, I can’t think of anyone to compare you with better than Kefka.” Vulkrum spat at Vector’s feet.
Vector once again did not become angered. “You can take that to your grave,” he said. He shoved Vulkrum with his foot, until he was in front of the stairs that led down from the terrace. Vector waved at him as his pushed him once more, all the way down the steps…that led to the bottom of the palace.
Vector picked up Vulkrum’s sword. “You forgot your sword!” He threw it up and over the staircase. He drew out the blades he had in his arsenal and threw them also over the staircase; not caring whom it hit down below. “By the way, it ain’t my fault your mum was a loose little tramp!”
He kneeled down against the rail and watched the battle. It was relatively hard to tell what was happening, but he knew they would win. In a few more minutes, his secret team of Aquadalins would emerge from the sea to back-attack the Returners and win the battle. . Everything played out so brilliantly, just like this, he destroyed everything that could have opposed him. Even narrowing his great army of the human scum that he knew would lead to betray him. It was such a pity, though, that the kid had to go and get himself killed, they could have been such a great team together. Vector and Gestahl…just like the old days.
He waited. But they did not come.
Apprehensive, he stood up. He heard something behind him, and then, “You shouldn’t have given up your weapons.”
He turned in time to duck Terra’s sword. He grabbed her by the neck and tensed in. “You, die already!”
Something hit his arm, hard, making him retract. Then it jumped on him, making him trip, and roll down the stairs, wrestling with the being.

In the battle, Dornim felt beaten. It had started to rain an hour or two ago, destroying torchlight and hazing the battlefield. The numbers of their army was dwindling, with low morale and magic points to the survivors. He hid behind a rock formation to find Setzer and a few others already there. “What’s going on, Commander?” Setzer asked.
“I don’t know, can’t see a bloody thing in all this.”
“Aye, I can’t do much neither in this. I’m afraid that…”
“Yes, I know. But we need to try, if nothing else then for revenge. Think of all they’ve done, to Edgar, to everyone.”
Setzer sighed and looked down. “Alright then. Let’s us get going.” He jumped up and gestured the others to come with him. “It’s almost light, methinks that’ll be helpful.”
The Imperials were also low on morale and magic, for the most part, but they still had the upperhand. The rain started to cease and the clouds slowly parted. Sunlight showed a hill to the right-hand side of the palace...with a single cloaked being atop it.
Dornim lost his breath, the whole of the armies looked up.
It was the one they had known as Gogo.
As the sunlight grew, others were visible as well, many others. It was eerie how near silent it became. Finally, Gogo made a hand gesture that made all those behind him to charge, as he did as well.
Setzer hooted really loud, and the battle went back on, this time the tables turned greatly in their favor.

Vector opened his eyes, his whole body feeling broken. He was lying in the mud, having fallen all the way down the stairs. He tried to inhale a few times, but noticed blood was caught up in his throat. He looked over, and saw the boy he could identify as Gau lying unconscious and bruised all over. Vector tried to reach over the wring his neck, but couldn’t find the energy. “Well,” he whispered to himself, “at least I’m alive.”
“Wrong…”
The last thing he saw was the cold eyes of the mislead soldier he had betrayed, and his sword.

Dawn broke, showing the battle ended. Terra, along with Relm, Celes, Mog, and Locke, had come from the palace to a very cheerful army of Returners. Meds checked her out, then went to Locke. She was told the whole story. Gogo, the mimic from an enigmatic past, somehow had ventured to the far ends of the world to form his own small army. It turned out there had been other surviving Moogle tribes on more remote continents, who had gladly joined in, along with others such as stranded Returners, Imperial resistance, some of the older orphans Terra had known, and a very odd muddle of monsters that were somehow tamed and used to fight back against the former Colosseum beasts.
Terra spotted him/her standing near the edge of a pond, watching it serenely. She had yet to figure anything out about the being.
She walked up beside him/her. “I don’t know how to say this…but thank you.”
“It’s alright,” Gogo spoke in a voice that almost sounded disguised, being non-gender specific. “Anything to end this. War is never good, so you must avoid it whenever you can, but if the time arises, you cannot back down.”
The saying sounded pretty nice to Terra. “I only do what I can,” Gogo continued. “Hopefully now I may finally leave.”
He/she turned and walked away. Setzer was also coming toward Terra. As he and Gogo passed, their eyes met, and as Gogo walked on, Setzer stood dumbfounded, then shook it off.
“Well, they found Gau; he was at the very bottom of the stairs, a long fall. But he survived; they say he’ll be okay. No sign of Vulkrum or Vector.”
He looked around at the battlefield. “All’s well that ends well…”
Terra smiled at the though. Lies…

The Epilogue/Eulogy

From the top of the fortress on Returned Island, Dornim watched out over the many gathered below. Along with him were the rest of Afterstorm, all dressed ceremonially in black. Locke had his arm in a sling, Terra had had some stitching, Gau had been placed with a head bandage but refused to wear it, and Cyan had brought himself out of bed—much to his doctor’s displease—and supported on a walker.
“It has been a long, hard time,” Dornim began, “that we have paid the price for several times. None are more upsetting than the deaths of our friends and family, especially Edgar Roni Figaro, Clyde Arrowney, Umaro, and Otoshi Vector. If you would please give us a moment of silence…”
Everyone bowed his or her heads. The only sound was the sound of footsteps on the balcony. Terra looked behind her to see none other than Vulkrum Gestahl, fully dressed in black ceremonial robes, no longer with any face paint.
He walked past everyone on the balcony, everyone too shocked to move, and to the edge beside Dornim, who stepped away.
“I have come here today,” his voice thundered, startling everybody below, “to talk about my enemies. I do not see these people or any of the deceased as any adversaries to be defeated, but as good people, who have given their lives for what they believe in. I wish I could say the same. So I come here to give my own honoring to those whom I have defeated, and those who have defeated me. I hope to say that this would never happen again, but there is no guarantee, so for now I just say, godspeed.”
He turned, not looking anybody in the eye and made to leave. As he walked by, they heard clapping. No one knew who started it, but it grew, to where the whole assembly stood up in ovation. Vulkrum looked back, made a short concealed smile, and then left the balcony. None of the guards tried to stop him.

Locke looked back as his former nemesis exited the balcony. He lifted his good arm at that direction, confused and bewildered but not saying or doing anything. Celes put her hand on his cheek and turned him to face her.
“Locke,” she said slowly, nervously, “I found out when I was in the medical ward with you. I—…”
“Yes.” Locke looked at her seriously, worried, anxious. “What is it?”
“I…” she looked away, “I, I think I’ll tell you…after this, after everyone leaves.”
Locke continued to look at her, with the mixed expression still on his face.


Terra ran after him. “Vulkrum,” she called.
He stopped and looked back at her. “What will you do now? Where do you plan on going?”
He looked away, his eyes distant. “I don’t know," he replied simply. Then he looked up, and half-smiled.
"But for now I am sufficed in saying I shall restore my name with honor.”

This post has been edited by Sherick on 3rd September 2006 16:07

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I fear my heart and fear my soul
Life goes on, it surely will,
Without me and I wonder:
Will I ever see light again?

Life goes on...