#We be burning: Kefka and Terra | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oveliagirlhaditright · 4 years

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I've noticed there are at least 15 main installments of Final Fantasy, but the only ones I see people mention are Final Fantasy 7, 8, 10, and 15. Is there a reason the other game aren't as popular?

Buckle in, honey. Because I’m probably going to go overboard with this. I’m sorry. But it’s the best I can think of to explain it all.

So… full disclosure. I have not played I-VI. All I know about them is from the Dissidia games–where the main characters of those games show up and talk about their games some–and what I’ve read on Wikipedia. I also know a bit more about VI because of cultural osmosis, as that’s one of the more popular Final Fantasy games (and I have watched a teeny bit of VI online). And one day, I do hope to go back and play them all. But any information I get wrong about those ones–though I hopefully won’t–is because of this. And I apologize for it in advance.

Also, you should know that the Final Fantasy fandom is very vocal. And since every game pretty much reinvents the wheel–and everyone has a different game where they started and that is their favorite–everyone has their own idea about what a Final Fantasy “is” and “should be”. And if they get a Final Fantasy game that doesn’t meet that criteria for them, they usually hate it–and will tell anyone and everyone–and think that it “doesn’t feel like a true Final Fantasy”… Like, for years now… pretty much with any new game since X, or maybe even back as far as IX, people hate on it for years… only to years later realize that maybe it wasn’t “so bad, after all, because really the new thing is that bad”. Rinse and repeat.

Okay, so a little history here: Sakaguchi is the father of Final Fantasy, and was involved with I-X (though not as much on X, because I believe he was also working on the “Final Fantasy: The Spirits Within” movie at the time. More on that in a minute), back when the company was “Squaresoft” and not “Square Enix”. Around the time they were making X, Sakaguchi decided to try and make a fully 3D Final Fantasy movie–and to release it in theaters (The Spirits Within)–and that movie bombed hard. It’s actually one of the biggest financial failures in cinema history, sadly. And Squaresoft would have gone under because of it, if rival company Enix–mainly known for the Dragon Quest series–hadn’t agreed to merge with Squaresoft, thus turning the company into “Square Enix” as we know it today. And even though it wasn’t all his fault (if any of it? Because surely there were bigger studio heads who okayed everything and maybe even pushed for it themselves), Sakaguchi ended up having to take the wrap for the whole Spirits Within disaster and left the company, if I recall correctly, but really he had to leave, I think. I’m sure he was really fired, under the corporate niceties and stage show.

But you definitely have your purists, who only like I-X (or sometimes only I-IX) and think that Final Fantasy died when Squaresoft became Square Enix and when Sakaguchi left the company.

Speaking of which, I-VI, Final Fantasy VI is an extremely popular game. And that might actually be most people’s favorite after VII (some even like it more than VII). And people are clamoring for a remake for it, too. Like, the heroine Terra is an amazing character who goes through more than any other Final Fantasy heroine, apparently (as she was used as a weapon–as she’s super powerful–by the games’ villain for most of her life until she finally rises up against him). And she’s also the first technical female lead in a Final Fantasy game. People also love the villain, Kefka (and if you go on “What Final Fantasy Bosses do You Want in Kingdom Hearts?” threads, he’s always the one who gets the most votes), who’s this pure evil clown, who loves being bad and just wants to watch the world burn. The Joker, essentially. And he’s the only Final Fantasy villain to succeed: he actually does destroy the world, and you’re then playing in a post-apocalyptic place for half of the game. The character Celes even tries to kill herself over this… I think people like this game because it’s super dark (though not without light moments and humorous things, of course) like VII is.

Final Fantasy IV is also well-loved, but I don’t know enough to rank it in people’s eyes. I through III were pretty bare bones, it seems like (maybe moreso I and II) and with black and white morality. IV was the first game to go away from that, somewhat. As your main character, Cecil, who starts the game as a paladin turns into a dark knight(?). And while at first he’s despairing about this, he then realizes he can still be a hero and use his powers for good? And people adore the Cecil/Rosa ship, that perhaps started there being Final Fantasy romances. This is also a tragic tale about two brothers pitted against each other… There’s also the character Kain, that Riku’s character is probably based on and ideas from this game in general? Or maybe it’s Cecil that Riku’s based on. I forget.

VII is probably, hands-down, the most popular Final Fantasy game (though sometimes the people who love VI–and even IX–can really debate with the VII people. So they’re probably close to being tied). And I think this is because VII was the first to do a lot of things: The first to use 3D graphics (that were something to behold at the time), the first to be on Playstation, the first one that really got people in America interested in Final Fantasy and RPGs in general (largely because of the commercial for it, I’m told? That made people go “What?! There can be an actual story in a video game?! Let’s check this out!”), and certainly because of the Aerith thing. Aerith was not the first character to die in Final Fantasy. But since VII was a lot of people’s first FF–and you couldn’t bring her back; and the developers made a conscious decision to keep it that way for many reasons–this really hit gamers. And is why Aerith’s death is probably the most iconic thing in video game history. The game also did a good job of making her mean everything to you and then feel her absence, since she was your best healer and no one could really take her place after that. This game meant a lot to Sakaguchi, because he wrote it after his mother died–as he was trying to understand life and death… and why it all happens the way it does, and to find some closure there–and I think that you can feel that in the game, which is why it’s so special to so many other people, too. If you’re interested, Super Eyepatch Wolf does a great job of explaining why Final Fantasy VII is such a big deal in this video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9V68GCZ61Rc

I actually don’t hear that much about VIII anymore? I’m not sure it’s as big as a fan-favorite as it used to be, but I could be wrong.VIII is starting to turn into a black sheep of the franchise in some people’s eyes, it would seem. Mainly because the Junction battle system… is broken (though this was really no one’s fault. As I understand it, the designer behind it fell ill before the game came out and never got to finish it properly). And since some don’t like that this game is a romance between Squall and Rinoa more than anything else (some also don’t like Rinoa and think she’s a major damsel in distress in their opinion), and that Ultimecia is evil and wants time compression… for reasons? But to be fair, a lot of early Final Fantasy villains were evil just to be evil. And apparently this game is the anti-VII in some ways? As Sakaguchi or Kitase (I forget which one) said they got a lot of criticism about FFVII when it first released (which is weird to think of now, since now everyone sees FFVII as the greatest thing ever), so they decided to address those criticisms in VIII and made it the opposite of VII in many ways. But there are definitely many who are still all about VIII. Don’t get me wrong. And a lot of Kingdom Hearts fans, trying out FF for the first time, probably go to the ones with characters they know first (I know I did). So VIII is still probably touched for that reason, if not for many others as well. People still wonder if Cloud or Squall is stronger, etc. And for a while, VIII was my favorite. It’s not anymore, but it once was.

IX is the dark horse in this series that might actually win a lot of things. Most people who have played it seem to love IX–I know I do–though not everyone played it, because many were turned off by the cutesy art style at first (IX was sort of a return to basics, as it was a celebration of all the Final Fantasy games that came before it since this was the last Playstation 1 game). But this story’s a lot darker than some give it credit for… One of the darker ones, maybe. Most people who played IX actually list it as their favorite–in fact, IX was voted as the most popular FF game to Japan’s players recently–and many want this game remade, too. This is also Sakaguchi’s favorite in the series, and what he thinks Final Fantasy should be. And there’s just so much heart, fun, and love in this story (Zidane and Garnet might even be my favorite FF couple for how well they’re written). If Sakaghuchi had to leave the company, it’s probably at least nice that he left it on this note (because he was involved in X, but not as much as with this).

I think X is so popular, because this was also a “first” for many people. It was my first Final Fantasy game, in fact (and a lot of people’s in that generation). But it was the first for Playstation 2… the first with voice acting, the first where you could switch party members in battle, the first that had a direct sequel to it, etc. And many believe Tidus and Yuna is the best written romance in all of Final Fantasy, and there’s a good chance that it is. It also has one of the most tragic endings ever, that makes everyone sob when they get to it. Hey. But Final Fantasy X is just a great game, all-around (story, theme, and gameplay-wise. X, like VII, revolves around life and death and cycles). It really is. Though you still have people who hate it (as there are those who hate every single game), usually because they despise Tidus or just look at things like the laughing scene out of context. X might be my favorite Final Fantasy. A lot of the time, the first FF you played ends up being your favorite, though not always (I like it, IX, VII… and XIII and XV, God help me). Edit: And Yuna is everything good in this world. She’s always a favorite Final Fantasy heroine to everyone, for sure. And I think she actually is Japan’s favorite Final Fantasy heroine.

I can’t really talk about XI or XIV, as they’re MMOs and I don’t play those… so these are actually the FFs I know the least about, probably? But I know some think think they’re the best. Well, Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, that is. The first version of XIV was a fucking disaster and had to be completely reworked.

Final Fantasy XII is dismissed a lot of the time (though there are those who think it’s the best example of transitioning FF to modern times, doing things that XIII and XV just didn’t think to do or even seem to think to do). Final Fantasy XII is very political, and I think that’s why it’s not talked about much: as there’s a good chance it just went over your head when you played it. I know it did for me, originally. There also really isn’t romance in it (at least not much, and you definitely see the slight romance that is there moreso in the sequel). But they definitely tried something new with this one, and if that paid off or not is up to you. But if you can understand it, the writing in this game is actually pretty genius. Final Fantasy XII was plagued with the issue that VIII had, though, where one of the key people behind it got sick at the time, so all of their ideas didn’t come to fruition. Like, originally Vaan and Penelo were supposed to be much more fleshed out than they were… that didn’t happen in FFXII itself, but did in its sequel “Revenant Wings” (which is so underrated, and the best sequel in all of FF, imo).

XIII… XIII is the black sheep of the franchise, for some reason. And I have no idea why. I loved this game and thought it was fine. More than fine, really. I swear this game wouldn’t be as hated as it is, if the Internet didn’t exist, tbh. But people despise it because it’s linear… when every Final Fantasy game before it was also linear? You were just tricked into thinking they weren’t. And sure XIII could have hidden its linearity better, but meh. People also aren’t big on there being no towns and side quests, even though story-wise it makes sense: you’re the enemy of the goddamn world, so of course you’re avoiding towns and people. People also think the game’s convoluted, but I think most FFs are. Look at FFVII, for goodness sake! And people just don’t like the characters, because they base it on how they are at the start of the game. And they’re all awful and hate each other at first, but that’s the point: because they all develop and grow into better characters, and are a family at the end of it. There are also those who despise the battle system… I’ve heard many say that if you look at this game as its own thing, it’s fantastic. But that if you look at it as a Final Fantasy game, it’s terrible… which I guess could make sense? But I also, personally, don’t see it that way? I guess I’ve just never been one of those “A Final Fantasy game has to be this way, and if it’s not then it’s not a Final Fantasy game to me and I hate it” kind of people. Because I know FF is always about reinventing itself, but whatever. But like with any Final Fantasy, there are also those who adore this one. There are always those who love one, and those who hate it. XIII was also littered with a lot of problems across development–like XV–and probably would have been even better than it was, if that hadn’t happened. Like, I think Nojima wrote the script for part of this game–or at least helped with it–but not all of it. And he’s credited for writing the scripts of most fan-favorite FF games. He also wrote the script for the end of KHI, all of KHII, and part of KHIII, apparently (many think that if Nojima came back for KH, that would fix things there, too–which I could see and maybe mostly agree with, but even he’s not perfect... He also wrote the script for Versus XIII, but not XV, which probably explains a lot. And he came back and wrote the script for FFVII again with the Remake, which is probably why it’s so great).

XV is the game that started its life as Final Fantasy Versus XIII–originally directed by Tetsuya Nomura–but soon after it became FFXV, Nomura was kicked off the project and Hajime Tabata became its new director. And Tabata, it would seem, made a lot of changes to the story (which is why Nomura’s so pissed off about it, and now trying to put his Versus XIII ideas into Kingdom Hearts). But it wasn’t really his fault. The company was breathing down his neck that this had to be the game that “saved Final Fantasy and console gaming in Japan”. And Versus XII was, apparently, the darkest game in the entire Final Fantasy franchise (and it was going to be rated “M”, as opposed to FF games usually being rated “T”), which is why it wasn’t a numbered title originally. So I can get why Tabata probably thought he had to change it to make it moreso appeal to the masses, or was probably even told to do so. I think FFXV is a good game. I do (as do many. XV was actually a lot of Nomura lovers’ first FF game, for obvious reasons). It’s still one of my favorites… for some reason. But the main issue with this game–especially at launch; it’s somewhat better now–is that it was not a complete story, and there were so many holes in it. And you can just tell that this story was rewritten again and again and again. And important plot things are just not told to the player… probably because the developers thought the player knew, because they surely had told them in earlier drafts. But I can still feel what this game was going for, and the heart of it, which is why I like it, I guess. It’s actually a pretty hot debate–of which game is better in people’s eyes: this one or XIII–and I can get both sides of the argument. I like both. And as I’ve said above… as there’s always a camp that loves and hates every Final Fantasy game, there are those who despise XV: for they see how messy its story was… or don’t like the gameplay (as it probably is the most removed from how FF games usually play) or the setting… and some even weren’t big on how dark this game still was, and didn’t think it felt like a FF to them for that reason.

Yep.

And if you actually got to this point, I thank you… and I’m also sorry for all of this.

Edit: I should also probably mention that originally, most Final Fantasy games had medieval settings (and for this reason, there are those who think all FF games should be this). But they sort of moved away from that with VII and VIII. And since VII is the majority’s favorite, there are those who are more than okay with FF not being medieval. So to keep both camps happy, these days you usually have a few games that are medieval (back to basics) and then a few that aren’t. Rinse and repeat. Since XIII and XV weren’t medieval, that probably means XVI will be. And if the “Agni’s Philosophy” trailers are secretly FFXVI, like some think, that definitely looks medieval. And there was maybe some FFXVI artwork leaked recently, that looks medieval. And many are thinking the director of Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn will be directing XVI–he’s said he’d be willing to do it–and I know he’s said he’d want to turn Final Fantasy to medieval, if he were to do a XVI. So, yeah…

Edit 2: And back to the “FF died when Squaresoft became Square Enix and Sakaguchi left the company” camp, another reason some feel this way is Uematsu. If I recall correctly, he composed all the music for I-IX–and I think did the “To Zanarkand” track for X–but I think he also left the company after IX. So his departure is another reason some think the series truly died then. -shrugs-

#and I think most people are just meh about I ii iii and iv. at least that I've seen #I mean I'm sure you'll find SOME who think they're the best ones. but most people don't seem to feel that way

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mimiplaysgames · 6 years

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Strength to Protect the Things That Matter (Ch. 21)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Other characters: Garnet, Aqua, Hope, Rydia, Noctis, Riku, Kefka Word Count: 7,113

Summary: Terra has prayed for years. He wanted relief from having no one to talk to in the dark, except with the monster of a man who stole his life. One day, when two boys get a lead, he gets his chance - less than a week - to set things right before he loses everything again.

AO3 FF.net

A/N: I’m so damn excited to finally get to this! The flashback scene was inspired by @holyteapotofrussell ‘s absolutely adorable art that features Terra and Aqua as children. They also wrote an equally adorable fic that fits their headcanons for this art piece. Please check out their work and send love! Thank you so much for allowing me to use this piece as inspiration. It’s been MONTHS since I have asked you for this, and I have been so blessed to get to you know you since. <3

I have been asked by a Tumblr reader to include pictures/video of Final Fantasy characters that have never appeared on Kingdom Hearts before. I included those links at the end of this chapter.

Clowning

The windows on the second floor of the hotel have large enough window sills that Terra can sit on one and stare away at the clock tower. Hope has given him an herbal drink brewed with acacia for strength and alertness. Everyone who volunteers to fight Kefka will drink this ahead of the battle. For now, all he can do is wait for orders.

But it isn’t the fight with Kefka that occupies his mind. He holds his Wayfinder in his hand, stroking it as he daydreams about meeting her again.

Being that Aqua has been surviving in the Realm of Darkness for a little more than twelve years, Terra builds an image of her in his mind. She is about thirty years old now. The baby fat will subside, leaving hollower cheeks and stronger cheekbones. She will probably be curvier than before, in all the right places. If she smiles at all, the lines of her eyes will grace them. Her hair may have grown out, and it’s a wonder how long it is now. Maybe it already is showing sneaky strands of gray. Her eyes will be the same. Either way, she would still be pretty.

The sound of shaky wheels creep up behind him. Garnet is pushing a cart filled with bandages, multi-colored potions, and a large pitcher of water, approaching a door. He gets up and holds it open for her so she can slip through. The lights in the room are dimly lit in a warm glow, almost as if to be relaxing... but it’s a different story altogether. Inside are two rows of small beds, each with a person either sleeping, coughing, or dealing with pain. There are more people, as well - some with arm slings, others who do not have any visible injuries but are perhaps suffering nonetheless. Some of them approach her when she enters.

“Terra,” she calls as she is surrounded, “would you be a dear and fetch me those cups?”

She points to a number of cups that are placed high on a shelf - clearly too high for her unless she used a ladder. Terra states that he will help her, and follows her around as he pours each person in the room a cup of water. She speaks quietly to every single person in the room. He overhears her asking much of the same questions: if they have any pain, if they are thirsty, when was their last meal, if they are calm and comfortable.

For those in pain or who have open wounds, she uses her magic to heal them, holding her hands up close to the physical source, a bright light mesmerizing out of them as she works. It is not the same as the green healing aura that emits out of a Cure spell that all Keyblade wielders know (or from any other magic casters he’s seen). The color is nearly white instead.

And she does it effortlessly, almost like a thought, without having to pray for it or summon it vocally. Each time she does it, the dimness of the room brightens up just a little. It’s truly a special gift.

When she’s done, they head for the room directly next door: a small storage room with no windows, a row of cupboards, and a sink. Garnet drags a tall stool across to climb it, in order to store some things away.

Terra leans against the wall. “You are amazing with magic. It’s unique, where did you learn it from?”

Garnet stands straight as an arrow as she balances on the stool, almost as if she is aware that she may fall. She beckons Terra to hand her empty bottles.

“My professor.” She smiles as her eyes travel into memory. “I’ve spent all of my youth in his library, with not much to do except to indulge myself in his works. He gifted me the use of magic... Of course, he was also good on his promise that I was to be presentable as a lady.”

He holds his hand out to help her balance. She hops off the stool.

“I was also in a library practically my whole life,” he says. “My Master ran an academy for Keyblade wielders.”

“And what did your mother think of this?” She reaches for a clipboard and writes in it, checking off an inventory list.

“My Master adopted me.” Terra chuckles, his cheeks warm. It’s one of the best memories of his life. “What about you? Did you have a mother?”

“No, I sprouted off some hole in the ground,” she says dryly, continuing her list as though she isn’t fazed by the question.

A nervous crackle - he didn’t realize it was such a poorly worded question. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

Garnet stops writing and dramatically turns to him with a grin on her face, touching the crystal that hangs off her neck. “This is my inheritance, from my mother.” She places the clipboard on the sink counter. “I do wonder about your own knowledge of magic. I know all Keyblade wielders can cast spells.”

“Yeah, and we’re each unique in how we mold it. But I’m not that good at traditional spells.”

“Yet you do know how to recognize skill with it. I beg to ask for the story behind that.”

He finds a chair and sits, rubbing his chin as a tight smile forms on his face.

“My best friend, Aqua.” It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue like it used to. He wonders if she’s really a best friend anymore, in the case that he ruined everything about the two of them. He forces this thought out of his mind. For now, it’s better to pretend that nothing’s changed. “She’s really spectacular with it.”

The day was cloudy and breezy - but not the kind that left the sky dark. When the sun wasn’t beating down on the mountains so harshly, he could see the coloring of the trees and the rivers far away even better in weather like this. They were taking a walk on some short ledges, where the terrain was particularly rocky. As long as they promised not to go too far (and as long as Terra promised to hold her hand so they wouldn’t separate), they could venture much farther than the gardens within the castle perimeters.

Aqua had been with them for a year now, and had just turned nine. For her last birthday, Eraqus gave her a pointy hat adorned with stars and moons (much like an old friend of his, he said at the time). A wizard’s hat, because she had expressed so much interest in learning magic. She wasn’t wearing it now. It instead rested on top of a giant book of basic spells that she wanted to drag around with her.

Right now, she was practicing cartwheels and backflips. She was slow to start them as she braced herself before the execution, but she gracefully landed each one with perfection. Or at least she made it look that way. Her long pigtails flicked before landing on her shoulders again with each presentation of athletic ability.

But that was the thing with her. Perfection. Always trying to get Eraqus to notice it. Always trying to make sure she got it right each and every time. It made him look bad. It was annoying.

Terra was ten years old. Two digits, that was. He was supposed to be proud, and he was supposed to be better naturally because he was older. “I can do that, too,” he scoffed.

“I never saw you do it well,” she retorted with a smirk.

Eraqus had tried to get him to understand that he really was much better than her at most things - fighting, memorizing what was in the books, doing chores, being adept in the outdoors. He had tried to tell Terra to allow her to be proud of her flexibility and mastery of her own body.

But that still made him lesser. Worse still, she admired Eraqus for being a Master. And he wanted her to admire him as well, because he worked hard for it. “You’ll eat your words.”

His cartwheel, according to her, looked like a frog trying to hop with its stubby forelegs. What followed was an attempt at throwing himself even harder so his legs would straighten out. He could already do handstands - cartwheels were different.

What came next was a flop onto the ground, a tumble off a rock, down one of those tiny ledges, and a roll against rough terrain. His reward was several scrapes all over his arms, and a horrible throbbing sting on his knee.

“You ok?” she called to him, and he held his knee as he grimaced and squirmed a bit, shaking his head. She ran down to him, one hand holding the hat on her head and the other arm draped over the book, which was as large as her torso.

“Can you stand?” she asked as she sat beside him.

“No.” His voice was meek and he sniffed. The scrape on his knee was large and bloody, and tiny rocks wedged into it that made it hurt more. He told himself to keep it together. He had fallen way too many times to count that normally it wasn’t a big deal.

But when he got really hurt, the worst that came was the lecture the Master would give him.

“Let me help.” She said that too excitedly, and she brushed her pigtails and straightened the hat. She laid the book on the ground and flipped through it until she got to a page displaying calligraphy. The chapter was titled ‘Basic Healing Spells.’ She whispered what she was reading to herself, before facing him. “How does it feel?”

“It burns and it stings.” He slowly rubbed the dirt off the scrape.

She continued to read off the book, but waiting for her did not help the pain go away.

“Can you hurry it up?” He held his hands tightly on each side of the knee, hoping that the pressure would ease it.

She put her hands on her hips. “Shush!”

He leaned on his hands while she continued reading, sighing. From the corner of his eye, he could see that she held a finger to her chin. It looked as though, just for a second, she was ready to cast the spell because she started to face him... only to go back to sticking her nose into the book.

The stinging was coming in waves, and he leaned forward a little. “Before I die, Aqua?”

She gave him a quick, severe glare. She hated that word. ‘Die.’

“Sorry,” he said. He tried to breathe deeply while she continued to read.

Then she was ready. He held his knee while she waved her hand over it. She called out “Cure!” but what came was a horrendous burn instead. The kind of burn that would bite when touching something icy.

She had cast Blizzard by accident. He screamed as the ice dug itself into his knee. She yelled her apologies multiple times as he whimpered in pain, until she held her hands to her eyes and cried.

This sight made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t understand why. “Don’t cry,” he said shakily. “I’m fine, really.” He grunted and breathed sharply. It hurt really badly, but the crying was what he will remember. It just made him sad.

“Can I try again? Please?” She wiped the tears flowing from her face, sniffling.

He hesitated first before agreeing, this time dealing with the sharpness of what felt like a knife rubbing itself while giving her all the time she needed.

She hesitated to cast again. She closed her eyes, telling herself audibly to just relax, and then called for a Cure spell again. It felt soothing, and it was like the pain was just lifted off the knee by some angelic force.

Relief. His arms went loose as he dropped onto his back, relaxing into the grass, gazing up at the clouds.

“I did it!” She laid on the ground next to him. She flashed a huge toothy smile, her face marked by dry tear streaks.

Garnet holds her hand to her mouth, almost in a way that gives him the impression that laughing as hard as she is would be considered unladylike. “She sounds brilliant,” she says.

“She is,” he says softly, his heart pumping as these words leave his mouth.

“Describe her to me.”

He gives her a wide-eyed stare, not knowing how to interpret such a request. “Um, well she has blue hair and blue eyes.”

Garnet, once sporting a smile, straightened her mouth into a line as she rolls her lips inward. “I was hoping for a more dramatized, romantic kind of description.” When he looks at her confused, she continues. “Much like what you would hear at a theater.”

He chuckles sharply. It isn’t exactly pleasant to have everyone around him read his feelings so easily, especially when he isn’t trying to be so blatant about them.

He considers a daydream of Aqua standing next to him. He would hold her close and kiss her in all the ways he was terrified to do before, because it kills him to wait longer. Because he should muster up the courage that he struggled with all these years, since she is still the one person who frightens him the most.

And yet, either way, he isn’t a romantic. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“You can start by comparing her to a symbol of your choice.” Garnet’s smile widens, her voice warm and encouraging. Hoping for entertainment.

At first he thinks about the unique way Aqua fights. It’s always mesmerizing to watch. “She dances when she fights. She... sometimes she’ll jump in the air and hit her enemies with a lot of...” What kind of person dances in the air? “It’s like looking at a ma-rio-nette.” The last word comes out rigid, as though he has tried to stop himself in the middle of it but he was too far into the word to be successful. Stupid.

Garnet’s brows furrow and her eyes narrow. “That was dreadful.”

“Can I try again?”

She holds up one finger, and he takes his time to think about it, going through several comparisons in his mind. His heart flutters, and finds himself wanting to get it right this time. He begins slowly, “Her eyes are like shallow ocean water, on a bright sunny day.”

Garnet claps her hands together. “That was so lovely.”

He laughs nervously as he runs his fingers through his hair. Not knowing what to say, he sits silently as she continues to gush about his words.

The clock strikes ten. Garnet’s laughter turns off, and she holds one hand to her heart, as if she’s monitoring how hard it’s beating.

When the clock is finished, a loud siren goes off. It blares loudly until it fades, only for it sway into a high-pitched scream again. Repeat. Garnet closes her eyes as it continues to weave back and forth into their consciousness, whispering to Terra that it’s a signal for a strict curfew - though most know to be in their homes by now.

When it’s over, she slowly opens her eyes, forcing a smile. “Come along, Terra. We mustn’t fear the reaper.”

The streets are completely empty except for the volunteers making their way into the third district, which is located several blocks from the hotel. It’s an incredibly modern area, where electric lights and fountains are fully utilized in its architecture. Riku tells Terra that this area has been recently quarantined. Normally, they choose territories farther away, but the more people go missing, the more Heartless will stick around in those previous battlegrounds. The numbers prove too much during an intense ten-minute fight. All the residents previously living in the third district have been evacuated.

In the corners of the block that will be the battle site, there are stacked cartridges, filled with ammunition for energy guns, offensive potions, first aid supplies, healing potions and smoke bombs. There are also small electric bombs placed high on a few of the buildings, and Terra is told to keep his distance from them.

Some people are even tasked with battering rams. Overall, it seems like the scientific team in Radiant Garden has spent a number of hours supplying the faction here with weapons. But what is most surprising of all is that there seems to be about forty people there, just to fight one Heartless.

They approach one of the hubs where some cartridges are stacked, where Hope is doing a final check-up.

“What are you doing here?” Terra asks him, surprised that they allow someone so young in such a dangerous arena.

“I’m a mage,” Hope says in a matter-of-fact way. He sounds nervous, but not enough to be intimated by the question. Almost as if he knows he has to be there. “I’m nowhere near as good as the others.” He gestures towards Noctis, Garnet, and Rydia, who are standing together in the middle of block, deep into a conversation that is impossible to eavesdrop from where they stand. Hope then turns quickly to Terra in an attempt to justify his words. “B-but I heal really well.”

Doesn’t this mean that he would be a target for Kefka? “Aren’t you scared?”

“Of course, we all are.” Hope scatters his sight on the clipboard in his hands. “This isn’t my first fight. I have survived the others, so I can survive this one.” He nods. These words are more for his own sake than for comforting Terra’s worry.

Hope then invites Terra to walk with him, and they approach Rydia, who is gazing into the electric lights as if she is studying them. She is holding her biceps like she is giving herself a hug, her long sleeves barely touching the ground. She gives them a tense smile, and reaches her arm out to embrace Hope.

“You ready for this?” she asks the boy.

“You ask me that every time.” He accepts the hug, and seems to relax when she places her hand on his head.

“And like every time, it won’t be an easy night.” She smiles widely at Terra. “But we have Terra for now. Maybe we’ll have it luckier.”

It’s such a warming thought that Terra feels his stomach swell. “That’s what I’m here for. We’ll both look out for you.” He ruffles through Hope’s hair, and it makes the boy smile.

Hope then hands Noctis his clipboard, which the latter places on top of several others. There are so many burning questions about what’s going on that Terra can’t help but speak out about them - against Garnet’s warning not to.

“I notice that the streets are empty. It seems like everyone else is hiding in their homes. Why face Kefka if you can just hide out?” Terra asks, trying his best to sound respectful, certain that they’ve all tried different scenarios in dealing with this situation.

Noctis’ jaw tenses before he speaks. “If no one’s outside to greet it, it will just destroy random buildings and crush everyone inside.” His tone is incredibly serious and raw. When he sees how shocked Terra is, he continues. “It’s a clown. It wants an audience.”

There is such contempt and anger in his tone that it’s undeniable. Regardless, Cid, who is passing by as this is said, loudly clears his throat and barked a “That’s highly inappropriate.” Noctis returns the statement with a glare so severe that if it had powers, it would have killed him.

Terra doesn’t know what to say in return, and a part of him wishes he never asked. How often did they experiment to learn something like that? Something on his face must have given his guilt away, because Noctis continues after a moment of silence.

“Those were some painful experiences. I remember being so scared every other night.” He flips a page on the clipboard. “The surprises always hit us the hardest, and when we lost the most.” He’s been at the same page for so long that it’s possible he stopped reading. “We’ve been fighting it for so long now that it seems like we know everything there is to know. And yet, sometimes, I still ask myself the same question: what if tonight is one where we will learn something new about it, and we aren’t prepared?”

Terra has been holding his fist, not realizing that he’s doing so. It’s not an easy subject to reply to. “I’m sure if you know everything about it, then tonight should go smoothly.” Is that an insensitive statement?

Noctis scoffs. “As smoothly as it could ever be.”

“Oy, we need to take the picture!” Garnet calls out to the two of them, and Noctis promptly agrees. He does it so quickly it’s as if the photograph is the most important event of the night.

Hope is setting up a camera that stands on a tripod, and Rydia makes a motion where she holds one open palm up and brushes it with her fingers. “This thing is amazing. It can create little paintings that have no brush strokes,” she says to Terra. The joy she is emanating is sincere, a rare source of light in such a tense night.

Rydia then calls out to other members that Terra has met, ordering him to stand in the middle since he’s the tallest. She tells Garnet and Hope specifically to stand in front of him (Hope replies that he’s still preparing the camera). Rydia stands to Terra’s right and rests her hand on his shoulder. Riku is beside her. Noctis stands to Terra’s left, with Cid by his side.

Noctis briefly pats Terra’s shoulder and says, “Welcome to the fam.”

Garnet turns, holding her fingers to her chin and pronouncing out a ‘Fam?’

Hope says that the camera is ready and rushes to his position while Garnet briskly faces the camera again and prepares her posture. Terra makes it a point to hold both of their shoulders, and gives a smile as the camera flashes.

As soon as it’s over, Hope scurries to pick up the tripod and runs to put it away. The group huddles around in a circle, waiting for him to come back. Garnet holds out her hand toward the center of the circle. Rydia places her hand on top, followed by Cid and Riku, and lastly by Hope. Noctis nods to Terra as if to invite him in, and he only rests his own when Terra complies.

“We’re here for another night,” Noctis says, his voice cracking. “And the only reason why I’m still whole, and why you’re all here, is because of all the friends we’ve lost. We’ll give them the remembrance they deserve. We’ll fight this thing, and tonight will be the one where we can finally breathe because it will be all over. I’m immensely proud to fight alongside all of you.” Even through a glove, Terra can feel the young leader’s hand tremble.

Hope hesitates to speak, but does so anyway. “Here’s to many more nights where we can be together.”

Noctis chuckles. “That’s something Sora would say.”

Riku nods in agreement. “We should call him our mascot next time he’s here.”

Hope laughs at the suggestion, his eyes beaming. In some ways, imitating Sora seems to bring out the best in him.

Noctis takes a breath. “Be safe, everyone.” And he lets go. Everyone else situates into some pre-determined position, and Riku leads Terra to stand out in the open, behind the leader of the group. Garnet stands staggered behind them.

“You, me, and Noct will be the heavy hitters,” Riku says. “The others will support us from behind. You should know that Kefka carries six swords on its back. They are all deadly poisonous.”

“Lovely.”

“It will also freeze at some point and blow out a toxic gas - also fatal.”

Terra breathes out quickly. “Anything else I should know?”

“When it eventually materializes, cover your ears. Once the clock’s done chiming, it’s showtime.”

Riku leaves his side to find a position with some distance between them, and summons his Keyblade. Garnet holds a shortstaff in both her hands, and brings up the orb that sits on the tip of it to her forehead while whispering a spell. It glows, and a spinning crystal covers every individual on that block before completely disappearing. If Terra focuses on the space in front of him, he can see tiny sparkling particles.

The protection spell.

Hope brings out a large boomerang and holds his stance directly behind Terra, standing the farthest behind. Rydia pulls out a whip and waits by a manhole that is releasing a misty cloud. Cid readies a spear, and holds his place by the volunteers, his job to order them during the fight. The rest of the volunteers are ready with their energy guns, and explosive potions. The battering rams are set. Noctis stands the farthest forward as the leader, not holding any weapon but looking up, as if he is expecting someone tall.

The clock strikes eleven. No words are uttered. Terra summons his Keyblade and holds it close. Everyone around him keeps a lookout.

Eleven.

The bubbling sound that signals the appearance of a Heartless is deep this time, and a large black mass immediately forms right after the last chime. A tall, colorful, humanoid stomps onto the ground, and the entire area shakes.

It laughs. A mechanical laugh that sounds like it’s coming from a speaker, but it is so high-pitched that it feels as though Terra’s head is being crushed inside a metal crusher. He holds his head and yells out loud, hearing everyone else yell out as well.

Then it starts. Kefka is nine feet tall at least. Its joints are bolted, its limbs thin. It wears a ridiculous clown costume, with the black and red insignia that signifies its existence as a Heartless large on its chest. The colors on the costume are a sickly combustion of yellows, purples, greens, and reds, with a bright white ruffle collar that is pointed at the ends. Its shoes are mismatched.

It’s especially ugly in the face - it dons a white mask with red painted lines that mark its mouth and eyes, screwed onto the face. The teeth that are drilled into a permanent smile are sharp. The skin right around its bright yellow eyes are charcoal black. It is topped off with a garish feather sticking out of its hair. There are six swords, three behind each shoulder, which are as thin as needles.

Noctis summons a broadsword the first moment he gets and throws it at Kefka. He disappears. The sword flies into the air, and right before Kefka can block it, Noctis re-appears in the air and reclaims his weapon. He warps from various spots in the air as he strikes Kefka’s arms, which are up in defense. He strikes, then warps. Repeat. This process keeps him the air and makes him a difficult target for Kefka to grab.

The other volunteers start to open fire, aiming at its face. At first glance, the battle doesn’t seem too bad. Kefka seems slow to react, casting its gaze around as if dazed by all the violence directed at it. Then it sweeps an arm - a movement so quick that it can’t be predicted considering how long it takes for the clown to think. A group of men are thrown back. An explosion. It then tries to blast Noctis, who throws his sword onto the roof of a faraway building and warps there.

Garnet juggles between following Noctis in order to stay close to him and casting her white healing spells toward the people just injured. Rydia holds her hands ahead of her, chanting as the mist from the manhole solidifies.

Out from the mist flies a silver dragon. Riku jumps onto it, taking a ride across the sky. Cid yells some orders and runs around the clown while Terra follows.

At this point, Kefka is skipping around the block, its hands behind its back. Any time a person throws an explosive or shoots at it, its retaliation is tremendous and widespread. It stops. It dances, waving its arms. Explosions appear at random. There are plenty of sporadic cries, and men barking more orders. Hope makes laps as he he tries to heal anyone caught in the foray.

The dragon spreads a thick fog to hide some of the straggling volunteers as they carry out the injured from the immediate battlefield. Riku takes the right moment to jump off of it, striking Kefka from the top. Terra runs in an attempt to strike its legs - this is the perfect opportunity to trip it, considering that it is striding so casually in one direction.

Kefka shudders a moment. It makes an about-face and runs the opposite way, and Terra misses it.

The Heartless drags Riku its in hand before slamming him into the ground. The six swords float outward and Kefka makes a sweeping motion to strike Riku in a rush. He uses his Keyblade to block each one. The Heartless then waves in the opposite direction, the swords following suit. Noctis warps behind the clown’s head and makes several strikes. Rydia casts bombardments of fireballs and icebergs to push it back and away from the teenage Keyblade wielder. Her dragon comes and picks Riku from the ground, taking him to Garnet for healing.

The Heartless freezes for a moment, slowly turning to face Noctis. There is a widening of its eyes, as if Noctis’ strike is the most offensive out of everything else that is happening.

It doesn’t like its face or its head being touched.

“Let’s get him at the ankles!” Terra calls out to Cid, with the latter aiming to throw his spear. Terra strikes the ground, shattering the concrete and tripping Kefka some before it could attack Noctis. It doesn’t come down to its knees, but it eyes Terra. It stares as him as he sends shockwaves of light to attack it, its smile plastered.

It grabs Terra, too quick for him to dodge. It squeezes, and purple strikes of electricity engulf him, making the protection crystal around him visible as he screams from the pain.

Then it throws him before sending a dark blast of its own against him, shooting out from its palm. He hears what sounds like glass shattering as he lands onto the ground.

Terra can’t hear anything. Any voices are muffled and indecipherable. His vision is blurred, and he feels dizzy enough that he can’t feel anything. No pain. No fear. He just needs to stand up. But what for? He forgets where he is, and just wants to move. Just to figure out where he is so he can decide what to do. Just move, dammit.

His vision clears a bit. His face feels wind on it, his hair blowing. Right in front of him, rocks are floating. Gently spinning in the air. He’s like a feather, levitating above the ground as well.

He should have been face down on the ground.

When he realizes this, he falls flat onto himself, the rocks falling alongside him. There is pain in every muscle, and he’s twitching.

There are glows of green, literally pulling some of the pain out of him, and leaving behind a comforting warmth.

“You ok?” Hope calls out. The healer runs up to Terra, and helps him up. He continues to heal the Keyblade Wielder by gesticulating wide circles, so that Terra can start to be fixed all over. He mumbles to Hope that he’s fine, although he’s still dizzy. He isn’t sure what he just saw.

Some of the buildings have been destroyed and are up in flames. More bodies, uncertain if dead or alive, are being carried out of the area. Kefka is jumping around and twirling, making it difficult for Noctis to land a hit. Some of the volunteers wait until their opportunity, and run the battering ram right into the clown. They push it against a building, and a bomb goes off, knocking it forward onto the ground.

Terra hears a voice: “Darkness!”

Riku, covered in a purple aura, charges ahead to pick a sword fight with the fallen clown. The power gives him an edge in speed. He attempts to strike it in the face - the one place Kefka is most protective of. Riku hits furiously, following each with another. Kefka bellows a tremendous screech, which sounds like gears rubbing against each other in super speed.

It’s loud and worse than a nail scratch. Everyone close to the clown, including Riku, run as fast as they can away from it. Hope grabs Terra by the wrist and tries to get him as far back as possible.

From its neck and its joints a purple gas blows out, which flies far out and floats into the sky. No one is near it when this happens, and all wait until it dissipates before approaching again, giving the clown plenty of time to pick itself up and skip around. Another dance, another set of random explosions.

Terra, breathing heavily, readies his stance for when Kefka passes by him - although it’s difficult to do so. The pain may have been healed, but he is still unable to lift his heavy Ends of the Earth with confidence. He curses at himself for being weak. Hope stands by him, bracing for whatever Terra is silently planning in his mind. Maybe to heal him again. I can do this. I’ll trip him when he comes...

Should I use darkness this time? What if I turn against the others?

A sword is thrown up against Kefka’s cheek. It doesn’t even scar or leave a mark, but Noctis appears anyway, aiming just for the face. Kefka laughs, and it hurts every ounce of Terra’s head. It’s the worst headache he’s ever had.

When he comes to, Noctis is struggling to stand up, collapsed against a wall. Kefka prepares an energy blast in its palm. Garnet rushes and slides onto her knees, putting herself between Noctis and Kefka. She holds her shortstaff, the orb glowing. An intense pillar of light shoots upward from the ground, making everything shake. It sends a loud swoop before it swallows itself, and the light is gone.

It is enough to send the clown backward.

With his arm around Garnet, Noctis throws his sword towards the entrance of the third district, where all the injured are gathered. He dissipates, and she is carried through the air before being dropped behind the cartridges. She holds her sides, as if tired and in pain, unable to stand straight without leaning on someone else.

Rydia throws more fireballs, each one larger than the previous one. She engulfs Riku’s Keyblade in flames, and he rides her dragon again in another attempt to hit Kefka where it hurts. It blocks his attempts, and it ravages the dragon with a dark forcewave, throwing it aside along with its rider. Kefka rules its swords as they twirl around it, aiming it to make sweeping motions against the female mage. A boomerang hits the clown on the back of the head.

The clown hits Hope directly with a dark blast from its palm. The crystal around the boy becomes visible and shatters. He slumps on the ground.

Kefka laughs and everyone screams. It skips away.

Terra scuffles to Hope, who is still breathing. He cradles him in his arms. “You’re going to be okay,” he says. “I know a little bit of healing magic.” (It is true, but he’s not in the position to heal such a terrible injury.)

Hope writhes in pain, his eyes darting in every direction. He grabs Terra by the arm, and nearly scratches him because the grip is so desperate. “Don’t let me go to sleep,” he begs, a tear falling.

His breathing is sporadic, but it slows to a restful state. His eyes close. A warm pink-orange glow shines from out of his chest.

Eraqus has always told them that touching a heart is forbidden, for it can cause irreversible harm. There is Hope’s heart, floating in the air. It looks bright, and Terra aims to grab it with both his hands but stops himself. It turns dark before disappearing, Hope’s body evaporating along with it. In his mind, it happens so slowly, cursing himself because he lost the chance to grab the heart and put it back. Even though it occurred over seconds.

“He’s too young,” he says softly. No one is close enough to hear him. He stares at his lap, where Hope was just laying.

Ahead of him is Rydia, who witnessed it. Her face contorts into fury. She casts lightning, with a power so forceful that it spreads all over the area. It chaotically flies in every direction, hitting the clown. Thunder strikes when her magic marks her target, clapping several times.

She continues to send lightning against the Heartless, making it shake. Kefka walks in resistance against her casting, taking its time with every step. It keeps getting close to her, its swords floating behind it, and she can’t hold it back anymore.

Terra, silent tears coming down his own face, grunts and summons his armor. Just let the dark heat take over. Let it bring life back into his muscles. Let it give him the strength to wield his giant Keyblade. Curse this Heartless. Curse Xehanort for making it possible for it to exist.

He sprints forward, striking an ankle so hard that the monster actually trips to its knees. Shatter the ground. Strike its swords directly, strong enough to hold back the pressure that the clown is pushing against him. Send shockwaves of black and purple to damage the Heartless.

Kefka blasts him directly. If it weren’t for the armor, he would have been suffering the same fate as Hope. He is thrown against a wall behind him. Even with the armor for protection, being thrown this hard against such metal makes him ache. He is on his knees, breathing deeply into his helmet. He needs to get up. He needs to defend himself from the next energy blast that the Heartless is preparing for him.

He hears the crack of a whip. Rydia strikes the clown in the face, although she doesn’t scar it. She whips it a second time. A third, a fourth. She mouths spells as she summons a large fireball. Kefka grabs one of its swords and prepares to brush it across her. She hits the Heartless first.

Kefka steps through her fire, and swipes the sword across her, breaking her protection.

Then stabs her with it.

She stumbles backward, holding her oblique. Unable to get up, she looks up to the clown, and relaxes. Not because she is passing out. Not because she is too weak. It is much like the exact moment where a lamb knows that it’s too late to strive for life. She closes her eyes and waits for whatever it will do next.

Terra hates the clown more. He sprints in front of her and calls for another shockwave, throwing Kefka backwards and onto its back. He stays by Rydia, but instead of waiting for the clown to retaliate, he prepares a mass of darkness. It swirls and flickers around him, and he feels his Keyblade throbbing with the power. This is the end. I will destroy you.

Kefka stands up and stares at Terra. A swirl of darkness surrounds it and it disappears.

Terra looks toward the clock tower. Ten minutes past eleven. Terra shakes hard enough that the armor makes noises. He yells, because the darkness makes his head hurt so damn much. He pulls his helmet off. It’s so hot, and he’s sweating, but the exposure to the outside air doesn’t cool his face. I have to stay in control. I need to let this darkness go.

The pain is so bad that he cries out in half-breaths. He can still see the traces of smoke emanating through the cracks of his armor. He loses all feeling in his limbs.

“Are you alright?”

He looks up to see Garnet rushing as fast she can while she stumbles. She kneels in front of him. “Where does it hurt?” she asks.

“H-headache.” It’s too difficult to talk. Am I losing control of my mouth?

She holds her hand out by his temple. A warm white light, a pure light, and the pain slowly fades away. He can lift his limbs, and he stops trembling. His breathing steadies.

Garnet gently squeezes his wrist. “I saw what happened,” she says solemnly. “I must tend to the wounded, but I’ll be sure to add him to the list.” She gets up and meets with other people, including Riku, who are down on the ground as well.

The list. A same type of list that Aerith and Tifa collect to count how many people turn into Heartless after the end of a swarm. A pile of former identities. As time passes by, it’s only faces that are lost in the throws of it. Hope’s face.

“This looks bad,” he hears Cid say behind him. Noctis cradles Rydia in his arms, who has her hands up. She’s quivering with such a force that Cid has to be the one to carry her.

“Can you get up?” Riku limps over to Terra. “We are going to have a long night. There are always Heartless that pop up everywhere when Kefka’s been around. Including the hotel.”

Terra leans on his Keyblade to stand up. Garnet will come back after taking care of more immediate injuries to heal the both of them more, so they can be in better shape for the upcoming hours.

Some people are being carried in stretchers. Others have their arms draped on those strong enough to help them walk. Some are left behind for now - the unlucky ones who haven’t escaped this specific slaughterhouse. It’s just one that exists among the thousands of stars out there, each of them marked by Xehanort as his personal experiment.

Lambs for his needs, and Keyblade wielders as his tools.

For those of you who would like some references as to who these FF characters are. I added photos first and then some videos that suits their personalities:

Noctis (x) (x) (yep I’m cheap) Garnet (x) (x) (skip ahead to 4:19 for the vid) Rydia (x) (x) (that was difficult - this game was re-made for the DS) Hope (x) (x) (hard to find one without context or melodrama) Kefka (x) (x) (had to include his classic laugh)

#terraqua #terqua #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #terra #aqua #riku #garnet til alexandros #noctis lucis caelum #rydia of mist #hope estheim #cid #kefka palazzo #oh my this is finally out #i can't believe i have written this chapter #i've been daydreaming about this for MONTHS #and it's finally existing #my fic

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wombadoodles · 7 years

Text

Final Fantasy 6 fic: “Year of Ruin”

this was just gonna be a little drabble, exploring what was going on with my favorite character during the year-long timeskip.

i... got a little carried away. :’D

under a readmore because this thing is over 9200 words long

The world was ending.

Despite everything they'd done, all they'd tried, the world was ending.

Magically paralyzed, the trio of heroes were unable to do a thing as Kefka set off a chain of events that could not be reversed.

Emperor Gestahl was dead at the hands of his mad henchman. The Warring Triad were out of alignment, and their rampant magic filled the air. Locke struggled vainly to move, watching as Celes began to lose her grip on the cliff edge. Terra squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the horrors that surrounded them. Edgar just glared helplessly at Kefka, the madman gleefully cackling and prancing about in front of the sparking statues.

It was the end. They'd failed. And they couldn't do a thing about it.

Sudden movement. The three jerked their heads up in surprise when a black-shrouded figure landed gracefully in front of them, carefully setting a rescued Celes down before flinging himself at the closest statue. With all his weight, he shoved the statue straight into Kefka, pinning him between two of the very creatures he now drew power from.

The magic that bound the heroes was suddenly dispelled. Locke sprang to his feet and rushed to Celes's side, while Edgar gingerly helped Terra up. All four turned to Shadow.

"Go!" called the assassin over Kefka's furious howls. "Don't worry about me!"

Locke started forward. "But--"

There was a bright flash and a burst of power, and the four of them were thrown back, tumbling from the hill the statues occupied. Shadow's voice followed them, audibly straining as he kept Kefka pinned. "Forget about me! Run! It's impossible to stop this now-- I'll find my way!"

There was no room to debate. The ground rumbled ominously, and cracks formed at their feet. Kefka roared shrilly after them, declaring that they couldn't escape him.

The Floating Continent was crumbling. Multiple times, the group had to help one another up after the path started to fall away. Edgar nearly fell, but Locke caught him in time and hauled him up, and they were off running again.

"The airship--" gasped Edgar. "It's just ahead!"

"But Shadow..." Terra slowed, looking back. "We can't leave him."

"We don't have much time," Locke said. "This place is splitting apart at the seams!"

The four stared off the way they'd come, but the view was obscured by flying dust and debris as more sections of the floating island fell. Celes peered over the edge at the world below, and gasped. Explosions and fissures crisscrossed the land like spiderwebs. It looked less like a landmass and more like a roiling, burning sea. "All the people down there..."

"Shadow!" Terra ran forward a few steps as she spotted the fatigued assassin. "Hurry!"

He chuckled darkly, catching up to the group with some effort. "I can't go and die before collecting my pay."

Without another word, the five of them leapt to the airship below. Setzer was at the controls and struggling to hold it steady, caught in the turbulence of the violently shifting world. He pulled away from the crumbling continent as soon as everyone was aboard.

"Is there really no way to stop this?"

It was impossible to tell who had shouted it in the chaos.

There was no time for an answer. With an earth-shattering crack, the deck of the airship warped and snapped apart. The craft broke into two pieces, its buoyant air balloon tore, and they began to plummet. Everyone struggled to hang on, but it didn't take long for every one of them to be ripped away from their friends, tossed helplessly in the howling wind, and fall toward the crashing sea below.

Consciousness returned in fits and starts. It mostly felt like a surreal, painful dream. Edgar was faintly aware of lying on a coarsely sandy shore. Not at all like the silky desert sand of Figaro...

His next bout of consciousness saw him lying in a bed in a darkened room. Despite heavy blankets, he felt cold...

He thought he saw a woman's face behind a bowl of soup. It tasted good. The face wasn't familiar. Where was everyone...

He wasn't sure how much time had passed. He opened his eyes, finally feeling properly lucid for the first time in what felt like an eternity. He felt weak and clammy, and shivered from chills even as his skin burned like a furnace. He hurt all over. It hurt to breathe.

He shifted, and his whole body erupted with a powerful, dull ache on top of everything else. He groaned, letting himself fall limp against the sheets once again.

What had happened...? The last thing he recalled...

...

The Triad. Kefka. The world dying...

The airship...

Everyone...

Where was everyone else? Locke... Sabin... Terra... He tried to remember anything at all from after the airship split, but it was all a panicked blur. They'd probably all landed in the sea, and after that...

He shuddered. He could feel thick bandages all over his body; he was certainly lucky to be alive at all. He didn't want to think about the worst case. By some luck he'd washed safely ashore... surely the currents would favor them if they'd all landed close together.

But then... He shook his head. There was far too much to think about. Too much. His head hurt so much. He squeezed his eyes more tightly shut, hissing through his teeth.

Sounds reached him as someone moved about in an adjacent room. Edgar again tried to sit up, but an oppressive wave of dizziness joined the pain in keeping him immobile. He groaned again, giving up.

The door opened, and someone bustled in. "Oh dear, oh dear," tutted an older woman's voice. "Hold still, dear, your fever hasn't even gone down yet." As she spoke she pressed a cool hand against Edgar's forehead.

He turned his head toward her and tried to find his voice. "Wh...ere..."

"Shh, now." She moved away for a moment, then returned to place a cool, damp rag on his forehead. "I'm not sure there is much of a 'where' any more, I'm afraid. It was two weeks ago now... the whole world..." The woman trailed off, her voice catching in her throat. "If... If it helps, we're near what remains of Tzen."

Edgar stared at the ceiling, too stunned for words. He wasn't sure what part was worst. He let out a long, pained sigh. "The world..." he whispered. They'd failed. They'd failed the whole world. He felt like someone had placed a heavy, heavy weight on his chest, on top of the thick blankets. He again shifted his gaze to the woman. "...Two--" His voice caught and he started coughing. Pain lanced through his ribs, turning the coughing into a strangled cry. He caught his breath after a long, agonizing moment, tears streaking down his cheeks. The woman reappeared at his side with a glass of water and gently helped him sit up enough to reach it. He drank gratefully and tried again. "Two weeks...?"

She nodded sadly. "I found you washed up on the beach not long after the earthquakes stopped. You were in such terrible shape... and before long were running a fever. It's truly lucky this inn survived somehow."

"My... friends..." He hardly dared hope.

"I'm sorry, dear. It was just you."

He closed his eyes and tried to keep calm. That didn't necessarily mean anything. They hadn't washed up here. That was all. Surely they'd be okay. He didn't think he could take it if he allowed himself to believe otherwise.

One other thing on his mind. He spoke without even realizing it. "Figaro..."

The woman had no help to offer. She gave him a sad, sympathetic smile and told him to rest.

He should have thanked her for her kindness, maybe tried a line or two. But he didn't have the spirit for it. In one fell swoop, he'd lost everything. He could barely even move.

Despair settled over him like another blanket. Failure. Everything they'd worked for had ended in failure. What was the point of trying to recover if everyone else was gone? The world a wreck? He didn't even know where his kingdom was relative to Tzen after the upheaval.

There was just no point any more...

Edgar woke reluctantly. He still hurt all over, but it wasn't quite so bad. He didn't try to get out of bed this time, though. Where would he go?

His long hair clung uncomfortably to his clammy skin, and he realized he must've lost his hair ribbons at some point during the ordeal. Just another frustration to add to the list. Annoying as it was, he found he couldn't bring himself to care enough to do anything about it.

The innkeeper appeared, bearing food and drink. Edgar numbly accepted her hospitality, then let himself slip back into a hopeless sleep.

So it went for at least another two weeks. His health improved, but the progress was agonizingly slow. And boring. The innkeeper, Scarlet, had offered him books to read, but... everything felt pointless. Everything. He'd just stared blankly at the first page of one of the books for a long moment before snapping it shut, unable to muster the energy to actually read.

He was despondent. He didn't even care about getting better. With nothing better to do, he slept.

When he awoke, it was to hushed conversation in the next room. He lay still for a minute, eyes closed and listening. News from outside? Yes, a geographical update from the sound of it.

It... didn't sound good. There were more settlements still in existence than he'd expected, but the devastation was near absolute.

Exhausted and hopeless though he still felt, he had to know. Slowly, painfully, he pried himself up from the bed. His legs almost gave out when he tried to put weight on them, but he managed to catch himself on the bed.

He felt terrible.

He probably looked terrible, too. He noticed for the first time that several of the bandages covering his body were bloodstained. How was he even alive...?

His long blond hair fell messily around his shoulders as he staggered upright, only adding to his misery. He grumbled and brushed it behind his back as best he could before looking for his clothes.

He found them on a nearby table, apparently having been washed and repaired by the kindly innkeeper. He dressed as quickly as he could in his condition, then made his way to where he still heard quiet voices.

The conversation stopped when he appeared in the doorway. Scarlet was speaking with a ragged-looking stranger, the latter of whom had a roughly sketched map laid out on the table.

Scarlet immediately hurried toward Edgar, trying to shoo him back to bed. He shook his head, clutching the door frame to keep himself steady. He peered at the map, then flicked his eyes up to the stranger. "Figaro?"

The man crossed his arms. "Info don't come free."

"Even now?"

"Especially now."

Damn. Did he even have any money left on him? He couldn't quite remember what he'd been carrying when he'd... when they'd... Well, anyway. He instinctively felt for his belt, only to realize he'd left it in the other room.

A hand appeared next to his face. It held his belt, complete with all of his equipment and supplies. He glanced back, into the honest face of the innkeeper.

"I didn't touch a thing, dear."

"I... Thank you." He accepted it, found his gil pouch, and counted out what he felt was a fair amount.

The ruffian shrugged, accepted the coins, and pointed at the map. "Last I heard, the castle did that burrowing thing when the world started going to crap," he began.

Edgar suppressed a sigh of relief. Smart people. That should have protected them from the worst of it.

"Word is, though, the castle got stuck. 'Least, that's what people assume, since it hasn't come back up 'n' it's been nearly a month."

That was a lot less good. Edgar frowned thoughtfully at the map. It... looked really bad. It was a completely unfamiliar world that looked back up at him. "Where did you get this? How do you have something this thorough already?"

"There's money to be made in it," said the man. "Works for me. Sort of a group effort with other folks."

"Hm. Impressive." Well, regardless. He knew where the last known location of the castle was, at least. The gears in his head started turning.

And prompted a splitting headache. He flinched and wobbled slightly, clutching his head, then collapsed against the door frame. The effort of moving around so much after so long in bed was finally taking its toll. He felt the innkeeper catch him and help him back to the bed.

"Now then, if you're quite done making yourself worse," she chided, "you're still in no condition to go anywhere."

"Th-thanks," he gasped weakly. "For everything. Really." He dropped gratefully into the bed.

The woman's expression softened. "Helping people is in my blood, dear. After all that's happened, I think people need to stick together more than ever. The world the way it is now... we have to find our own purpose." She nodded to him and returned to the other room.

"What was that all about?"

"Poor dear's been in terrible shape since this whole mess started. Now, as you were saying..."

Conversation continued, and Edgar closed his eyes, trying to think through the haze of pain. Find our own purpose...

Figaro needed him. He was their king, and they were in trouble. He had to help them.

His attempts at thinking through the problem merely sparked another headache, and he was forced to let the matter rest for now. But he had purpose again. Something to work toward. Even if the other Returners were gone, even if the world was dying, even if Kefka had won, there was still somewhere he was needed. He didn't know how, yet, but he'd save Figaro.

Hope began to return. He gave up on trying calculations in his head and accepted a pencil and paper from the kindly innkeeper. She, too, seemed to have perked up since the stranger's visit. Rough though his manner had been, he'd brought news. There were still people, and settlements. Society could rebuild. It was a bad, bad situation, but they seemed less isolated now. And Edgar was forming a plan.

According to his estimates, Figaro would be fine for a while. It had more than enough food and water to last through a prolonged siege, and though that particular situation had thankfully never come up, he was glad they'd done it. Figaro Castle could last.

The problem was oxygen. The castle had an on-board air supply, of course, given its ability to burrow underground. It was designed to only submerge for a few hours at a time at most, but there would be air enough to last a while. Edgar checked over his calculations again. Less than a year. Probably a little under eleven months now. That was his time limit. After that, the air would start to thin, and within days people would start dying of asphyxiation. He had to get to them before that.

The trouble was how to go about it. Figaro Castle was a decidedly unique contraption. There was nothing else in the world like it. While this was naturally a point of great pride for Edgar, it was also a problem in this case. There was nothing that could go down after it. He could try to design and build something, but... with under a year and hilariously little funding, it was hardly a viable plan.

He was stumped.

Edgar's recovery accelerated. Having something to work on -- a purpose -- aided greatly in lifting his depression. The hard time limit acted as a harsh motivator of its own, spurring him to tackle the problem before his kingdom could expire.

He brainstormed possible ways to get to the castle. There really weren't many. That was why the castle was so extraordinarily hard to destroy, but it was proving a real trouble now. Most every idea he thought of would require some sort of machine, or at least far more funding than he currently had access to.

Other travelers came through from time to time. Edgar made sure to ask them all about Figaro, and listened intently to whatever news they had. Mostly, they brought with them updated maps and gossip. It was a long two months before anything promising emerged.

"I'm still not sure if I believe them myself," said the scout dismissively. "Said they came from Figaro Castle, but everyone knows it's been buried for months now. Dunno how they could've managed that."

Edgar's head whipped up from the notes he was studying. "What did you say?"

The scout turned, smiling as he noted that he'd piqued someone's interest. "Y'know, I'm having trouble remembering--"

Exasperatedly, Edgar shoved some coins across the table.

"Ooh, yes, I remember now!" The man said cheerily, pocketing the money. "Said there was a cave opened in the prisons. Sandworms or somethin'."

"Where were they?"

"Uh. Figaro?"

"No, no. I mean, when you saw them."

"Oh. They'd settled down in Nikeah. 'S a pretty good and sleazy place for the likes of them."

"I see..." Edgar muttered. "Thank you." He scribbled down some notes on the edge of his already filled paper. A lead! He could do this after all! It would be tricky, though. First step would be making sure those thieves couldn't recognize him. He was, after all, the one who'd thrown them in prison in the first place.

The next traveler brought bad news. Very bad news.

"He wiped Mobliz off the map. In an instant." The young woman's voice was grave. "Word is, only the children were left alive. Parents all died protecting them."

Edgar and Scarlet stared in shock.

The traveler nodded sadly. "Some lady showed up 'bout a month back and started taking care of them, but... well..."

Edgar leaned back in his chair, pressing one hand against his face. "Kefka can wipe out entire towns on a whim..." he whispered.

"Yeah. Since then, anyone who tries to act against him, even just places where people are getting too hopeful... they're hit by the Light of Judgment."

The first time Edgar felt well enough to go outside, he made the mistake of looking south -- toward where Vector used to be. What he saw in place of the Imperial capital made his gut turn to lead.

There was something there. Something that hadn't been there before. A huge, grotesque black tower that speared the sky like a thorn.

Just looking at it filled his soul with dread.

Scarlet set a hand on his shoulder. "That thing sprouted up just days after the tremors stopped," she said. "It's Kefka's tower. Best to steer clear of it."

Edgar shuddered. Fortunately, Nikeah was in the exact opposite direction. He had no intention of looking at that thing any longer than he had to.

As his health improved further, Edgar began making frequent trips to Tzen to gather supplies for his upcoming journey. He made sure to buy gifts and supplies for the innkeeper too-- it was the least he could do to thank her. He still treasured the look on her face the first time he'd gotten her flowers.

He started to put together a disguise of sorts, too. While he liked the flashy design and royal colors of his usual outfit, he'd stand out like a sore thumb. Instead, he opted for simpler, darker clothes and a brown cloak in place of his cape. He even found a temporary dye he could use to dull down his bright blond hair a little. Unable to stand his long hair being loose any longer, he took to tying it back with a leather strip. Finally. He was certainly no Locke, but he hoped this get-up would at least be enough to fool those thieves. He knew them-- they weren't the brightest lot. Their leader might be a different story, but he'd have to take it as it came.

He picked one of the codenames he'd used in the days of secret correspondence with the Returners. 'Gerad' wasn't the most clever alias, but it'd do. He'd been surprised in the past by how few people caught on to simple anagrams. He was sure it'd been Locke's suggestion originally, so worst case he could at least blame it on his old friend. He felt a small pang, thinking about the crafty treasure hunter, but figured if anyone could survive the apocalypse and learn to thrive it'd be Locke.

"Are you sure about this, Edgar?"

He nodded, offering Scarlet a reassuring smile. "I have to go. They have maybe four months left before their air runs out down there, and I'm going to need time to establish myself in Nikeah."

She nodded sadly. "All right, dear. Do take care of yourself."

Edgar bowed. "Of course, my dear lady." He straightened up and smiled sincerely. "Thank you for everything. I'm truly in your debt."

"Nonsense. I had to do something."

"Thank you all the same. You'll always be welcome in Figaro, should you choose." He took her hand in his, then bent down and gently kissed it. "Farewell."

The woman smiled, trying to hide her blush. "Go, do what you must."

The trip to Nikeah was a long one. Fortunately, Scarlet knew of a nearby chocobo stable that would lend him a mount for a small fee. That was good, because Edgar had no time to lose.

He didn't exactly have a plan yet, per se, but he had some ideas. First, he'd need to spread a reputation for 'Gerad' being a seedy character. Maybe make up some exploits and heists he'd supposedly done. He'd known Locke long enough he was sure he could improvise that. Beyond that, he wasn't sure yet. Making himself someone the thieves might socialize with was one thing, but getting into their circle and getting them to spill how to get into the castle was entirely another. Not for the first time, he wished he had Locke here to help. The treasure hunter had a natural gift for this sort of thing.

He checked and re-checked his appearance whenever he came across a mirror. He kept his old style, more or less, but made it sloppier, dirtier. It was actually decently convincing. He still felt like himself, at least, but he looked grubby enough that for most it wouldn't even occur to them to connect him to royalty.

At least, he hoped.

He arrived in Nikeah just a couple of days later. He gave the chocobo an appreciative pat before sending it on its way back home. Then, he set to work.

He entered the town with a confident stride, shooting suspicious glares at most who looked his way. Playing a mean tough guy was going to be tricky. Politeness was ingrained in him, and acting as sleazy as those thieves would not feel good. But they wouldn't trust someone who talked like a noble.

He made his way to the pub, knowing that would be the quickest way to find rumors. He could start his search for the escaped thieves there.

To his surprise, his search ended there, too.

The four thieves were gathered at a table near the bar, drinking and laughing. Edgar had to wonder where they'd got the money.

Well... might as well be direct about it. He strode up and leaned an elbow on the table. "I heard you boys broke out of Figaro Castle," he drawled. "Pretty impressive."

The thieves exchanged glances. One of them shrugged and spoke up. "And who're you, huh?"

Edgar straightened up and crossed his arms. "Name's Gerad. Been in the business a long time."

"Then why've I never heard of ya?"

"Because you've been in jail, most likely."

They didn't deny it. They weren't very good at this. Edgar noticed for the first time that there were only four of them. Where was that relatively crafty leader of theirs? These four were the lackeys. He was about to ask about the leader, but bit his tongue. He wasn't supposed to know anything about them. Couldn't give himself away.

"Why d'you even care?" asked one of the thieves.

"Well, I think it should be obvious," said Edgar coolly. "I would very much like to break into Figaro Castle."

The four exchanged glances again. "Yeah? Well good luck with that."

"I don't think you understand. I can't get in there on my own; I need guides."

"We just got outta there! We go back in, we're toast!"

"Yeah, man, no way!"

He'd expected this much. Couldn't exactly blame them. "The treasure will be split evenly between us," he said. "You do know about Figaro's treasure room, right?"

That caught their attention. Four pairs of eyes were now raptly on him.

"Oh. You didn't? Well. Let's just say I know my way around the place. I can lead you to the treasure, if you lead me to the castle."

That did it. They were seriously considering it now.

"Uhh..."

"Well..."

One of the thieves spoke up while the others hesitated. "We're gonna take your offer under advertisement," he said with as much authority as he could muster. "You just stick around a while."

"Fine," said Edgar, trying to hide his amusement. They were trying very hard, weren't they? It was actually a little endearing. "I'll be at the inn. Come find me when you have an answer."

He swept out of the room without a backward glance. This was proving a lot easier than he'd anticipated. He was still worried their leader would show up, but now that the seed was planted even that probably wouldn't derail things too much. Now to wait.

Edgar anxiously eyed the papers he'd brought with him from Tzen, covered with his notes and calculations. Figaro didn't have much time left. Even if he got the thieves to work with him, he'd still need to get them all properly equipped for the journey, make plans... and of course, get money. He'd already spent most of what he'd had on him when he washed ashore near Tzen. He'd need to earn more in preparation for the rescue mission, and that would take time. Valuable time.

He was surprised by how quickly the thieves sought him out. He'd expected them to stall for a day at least; it was early evening when there was a knock on the door.

He greeted them with a nod. "Your decision?"

The four exchanged glances, then one was shoved to the front. "Uh, well, mister Gerad, our old boss sorta..."

"He's feedin' the sandworms now," piped up one of the others.

"Uh, yeah. So's, with your generous plan an' all, we was thinkin', maybe you could be our new boss?"

Oh. That would explain some things. Edgar raised an eyebrow. "Well. That's rather sudden."

"Well, y'see, we tried to make it on our own, right? But we just ain't cut out for it. Not without a boss."

Right. Well, at least they were smart enough to recognize their own incompetence. "All right, very well. We'll begin planning immediately. You four are to tell me how it is that you escaped, and then how we can get back in. What supplies we might need, that sort of thing."

They spoke well into the night. Edgar's eyes blazed with eagerness at the solid, tangible lead. His enthusiasm was evidently infectious; even as the hours wore on, the thieves remained engaged and alert.

Apparently, by some chance Figaro Castle had come to a stop adjacent to a sandworm nest. They'd burrowed close to the dungeon, cracking through the walls and giving the thieves their way out. They'd followed the sandworm tunnels out. Edgar nodded and took notes as they spoke, mind racing. They avoided talking about what had happened to their old boss, but it was obvious the place was going to be dangerous. They'd need to arm themselves. Probably some climbing gear, too, and some flashlights. He sighed, tapping his pencil at the base of the list. The thieves paused in their talking, noting that their new boss was deep in thought.

"This is going to take some planning. And time." He nodded to them. "Start making money. You know what to do. We need to be able to afford supplies." He started tallying up what their costs would likely be. "And... try not to spend too much on drink."

"You got it, Boss!"

He very much doubted that. He knew the sort; they'd squander far more than he'd like at the bar. But it was a start.

It was getting close. Far, far too close for comfort. They were almost ready, but corralling the thieves had proven to be quite challenging over the past few months. If it wasn't for the time crunch, Edgar might have admitted to having fun with these fools, but as it was Figaro was never far from his mind. He was so close... just a little longer! They had maybe a week left of air. And that was if his calculations weren't off. But, he just needed to make a few arrangements and they'd be set. Just a couple more days...

He first caught a glimpse of them early in the day. He was sure he was just seeing things, or filling in blanks with wishful thinking.

But no, there was no mistaking the woman's confident, commanding stride or the crisp outfit that had once belonged to an Imperial general.

Nor was there any mistaking the bulging muscles and bright grin of the person walking behind her.

Edgar almost dropped his act on the spot. He wanted nothing more than to rush over, throw his arms around his brother, greet Celes...

But... He couldn't. Not now. He was so close! He needed to keep up the act for just a little while longer. He couldn't let on, no matter how badly his heart ached to tell his friend and brother everything. An entire year had passed since he'd last seen them. He'd feared them dead. Just seeing them alive was enough to give him the confidence he needed to keep going.

Of course, they ended up recognizing him, and couldn't leave well enough alone. He had to focus hard to keep the act up. He scowled as Celes strode purposefully toward him. "What? Is there a problem?"

She seemed briefly taken aback by his reaction, but pressed on anyway. "Aren't you... Edgar?"

He started and glanced around carefully. He spotted his crew leaving the pub, well out of earshot. Good. Couldn't blow things now. He shook his head and walked away. "You've got the wrong guy."

He could feel Sabin's eyes boring into the back of his head. He tried to act natural, stopping to peruse a stall as he passed. Huh, kid actually had some useful relics.

"Edgar?"

He cursed under his breath. Any other time he'd be overjoyed about this, but now was not the time! Figaro hung in the balance-- if those thieves recognized him now, there was no way they'd help him. And the castle was out of time.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he hissed. He picked up one of the useful items on offer and held it up. "I'll take this, kid." He paid and hurried onward. Please, just let me have this...

Celes and Sabin were right on his heels as he approached the dock. He needed to address this now, before he was in earshot of the crew. He sighed exasperatedly and turned on his heel, startling his followers. "Look," he said sharply, "I'm kind of busy here. I have to get ready-- the ferry to Figaro leaves soon." He turned and took a single step before Celes spoke up again.

"Don't play dumb with me!" she snapped, hands on her hips. Her frown deepened as she examined him. "Edgar... You didn't lose your memory, did you?"

No, fortunately. He hadn't. But he didn't have time for this. Once again, he sighed and turned to face the former general. "Listen," he said impatiently, "It grieves me to have to disappoint such a beautiful lady, but I've been Gerad since the day I was born."

He spared a glance at Sabin, who'd remained silent through the whole exchange so far. His younger brother was just fixing him with a hard, scrutinizing stare. He'd obviously seen right through it, too, but he likely understood that Edgar had his reasons. Obviously, it didn't mean he had to be happy about it. Edgar gave the pair another once-over, then turned and started toward the dock.

Celes's voice rang out behind him, sounding amused. "I've never met anyone else who'd flirt with a lady he was trying to shake off his tail."

Oops. He hadn't even noticed that slip out... Edgar coughed, taken off-guard, but quickly regained his composure. "Ah, but being polite to ladies is common courtesy the world over," he said as smoothly as he could. He could almost hear Celes rolling her eyes. Ah, well. At least she seemed willing to drop it for now.

They'd followed him onto the boat. He was sure of it. He knew them too well-- they were far too tenacious to just give up now that they'd pretty much confirmed it was him. At least they had the sense to be subtle about it this time, so Edgar didn't mind. He was looking forward to getting this over with so he could drop the charade. He missed his old companions terribly.

He tried to remain focused as he briefed his little crew, pushing thoughts of the others to the back of his mind. "So you know the way into the castle quite well, correct?"

As one, the thieves nodded eagerly.

"Of course, boss!"

"Do we ever!"

He nodded approvingly. "Then lead the way. I'll take charge once we're in."

The thieves shouted their enthusiastic consent, and then they were on their way. Edgar leaned against the railing, staring out at the murky water. Not so long ago, this sea had been a beautiful, sparkling azure. Now it was tainted by the ashes of the destroyed world and Kefka's evil magic; the waters that churned alongside the boat ranged from muddy brown to blood red. He looked away.

He counted the hours as they sailed. Every hour that passed was one hour closer to Figaro Castle running out of air. He wished he still had access to Setzer's airship.

After what felt like an eternity, the ferry docked in South Figaro, and the crew settled at the town's inn to regroup and prepare for their expedition. He'd stressed to his four lackeys that this was to be a short rest-- time was of the essence. They were eager enough about the treasure that they didn't question why he was in such a rush.

He settled into the private room in the back of the inn's second floor, going over the plans once more. He stared at his calculations for the air supply. So close... too close...

"...Just a little longer..." he whispered. "I'm coming to help..."

The door opened. He whipped his head around to look, and saw Celes framed in the doorway, with Sabin looming behind her.

"...You followed me here?" He sounded tired.

Celes walked up to him, scrutinizing his face. "You are Edgar, aren't you?"

He turned and met her eyes. The thieves weren't around... maybe he could--

"Boss! Everything's ready. Let's go!" The thief who'd just burst in turned to look Celes and Sabin up and down. "Huh? Who're they?"

Edgar bit the inside of his lip, struggling to stem the sudden welling of emotions. Just a little longer

."Case of mistaken identity, my dear," he said quickly, offering Celes a small, apologetic bow. He turned and nodded to the thief, then followed him out.

A full year of planning. They were so close. He could hardly bear it. The thought of his people down there in the castle... Surely the air would be thinning by now. People would start to feel the panic of oxygen deprivation. He had to hurry.

He recognized the cave they entered. It had once been the connection between the desert and the town of South Figaro. He'd known it well. Now, while the geography had changed somewhat, it was still quite recognizable. How interesting.

The thieves proved to be reliable. As he'd hoped, the lure of treasure was enough to ensure their loyalty. He couldn't help but chuckle at the creative solution one of the thieves thought of in luring a large, sturdy turtle over to serve as a stepping stone over a small underground lake. The reptile didn't seem to mind a bit as the five of them gingerly hopped across its back.

Now they were in unfamiliar territory. He could hear sandworms boring through the earth around them, and quickened the pace. He'd rather not chance being here when they came back to their nest.

And then, all at once, they were home. Well, sort of. They emerged in one of the cells in the dungeon. The thief in the lead eagerly signaled the others through, then pointed at the guard. Edgar's heart sank. The woman was lying on the floor. He hoped she was merely unconscious.

He waited for the thieves to pass before kneeling beside the fallen guard. He gently felt for a pulse and sighed with relief. "Hey... You still with us?"

The guard stirred ever so slightly. "Can't...breathe..."

Edgar squeezed her hand. "I know. Just hold on a bit longer, okay?" he whispered.

Sure enough, the air was thin in here. He hoped they could surface before he and the others succumbed as well.

Edgar took the lead, as promised. They passed more downed guards, and his heart twinged every time. He needed to fix this. He couldn't be too late.

The basement levels had become infested with underground monsters, no doubt creeping in through openings similar to the one the thieves had used. He took his frustration out on them. He was glad he'd made sure all his tools were in working order before they'd set out.

He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not at the sight of the engine room. On the one hand, it was a delightfully simple problem. On the other hand, he didn't have time to fight off a monster this big! He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. (He couldn't wait to wash all this stuff out and get his nice ribbons back...)

"So, this is the problem, huh..." he mumbled, staring at the bright yellow tentacles. They'd snaked their way throughout the machinery, thoroughly gumming up the works. The thieves hesitated, staring longingly at the door at the other end of the room. Past the tentacles.

"Boss? Our treasure's in the storeroom back there..."

"Yeah! What do we do?"

Edgar glared at the monster that was so close to killing his people. He drew his sword. "I'll keep this thing busy," he growled. "You guys go get the treasure."

"But... Boss!"

"That's dangerous!"

"Really dangerous!"

He scowled and brandished his weapon at a tentacle that drew too near. "Just get moving!"

The thieves hesitated for only a moment longer before taking off for the door. They slammed it behind them.

Steeling himself, Edgar strode onto the walkway between the huge engines, trying to think through how to fight something this large and expansive.

"Edgar!"

He stopped and turned. He'd hoped they'd follow him all the way here. He couldn't stop the grin that crept across his face as he finally, finally dropped the act.

"Well? What are you waiting for, you two? Give me a hand here!"

Celes beamed. "Edgar! It is you!"

Sabin just laughed heartily and threw himself at the nearest tentacle. He tore it to shreds in an instant. Following his lead, Edgar and Celes joined the assault.

Edgar pretty much immediately regretted taking a direct approach. He managed to hack his way through a few tentacles before one batted his sword away and wrapped itself tightly around him. He gasped and struggled, cursing colorfully in all the ways he held back during political meetings. He could see Sabin still darting around the room, his clawed fists tearing through the enemy. The tentacles roiled around him, but simply couldn't grasp him. He was too nimble, too light on his feet, easily dodging every attempt to ensnare him.

Edgar at least took some comfort in seeing that Celes was just slightly better off than himself. She angrily slashed a tentacle that had grabbed her leg, then hacked away at another as it encroached. She held her ground for now, but she was quickly getting overwhelmed.

Edgar grunted in pain as his captor tightened its grip and lifted him off the ground. He spotted Celes below him, finally ensnared by one of the many tentacles that surrounded her. She shouted angrily, but her sword had been knocked away and her struggles proved ineffectual. Sabin was still free, but he'd retreated out of reach of the monster for a breather.

This was not working.

Edgar strained his hand toward his belt. If he could just... reach... There! He grinned in spite of the pain. Even with his movement so restricted, he managed to grasp and rev up his favorite tool. The chainsaw sliced through the tentacle with ease.

Edgar dropped several feet to the metal deck below, leaving him momentarily winded. He scrambled to his feet as quickly as he could, grabbing his chainsaw back up and leaping in beside Celes to cleave through the crowd of tendrils surrounding her. He allowed himself just a moment more to catch his breath before calling out to Sabin -- once more in motion, and still uncaught.

"Group up! We need to group up or we'll get overwhelmed!"

"Right!"

Celes swiftly retrieved her sword, and she and Edgar positioned themselves back-to-back. They carved through the encroaching tentacles, ferociously defending themselves while Sabin worked his way over.

"What's the plan, bro?"

"We need a concentrated attack. Randomly hacking at it isn't working, and we're running out of time." He grunted, swinging his chainsaw in a wide arc to cut off an incoming attack. "Celes, you hit it with magic. Wide-ranging spells, if you can. I'll use Scan and tell you what spells to use."

"Got it," she said tersely. Then she smiled wryly. "You know, as a former general I'm not exactly used to taking orders."

"Well, as a king I am quite used to giving them. Use fire on that section there."

"Right."

"What about me, bro?"

Edgar nodded, moving one hand to prepare another Scan spell. "Keep them off of us."

"You got it!" Sabin grinned and leaped back into action.

It took longer than he would have liked, but it worked. Bit by bit, Celes's magic caused the creature to wither away. Sabin skillfully kept the attacking tentacles in check, and Edgar disposed of any that managed to get past his brother.

Finally, the last of the tentacles shriveled up and disintegrated. Edgar sighed in relief, leaning against the engine to catch his breath. Easier said than done-- the thin air still left him starved for oxygen. They needed to hurry.

He realized Celes was talking to him.

"Acting like you didn't know me," she huffed. She actually looked hurt.

Edgar ducked his head apologetically. "I'd heard Figaro was in trouble," he said. "I wanted to help, but how was I supposed to get here with the castle stuck beneath the sand?"

Celes and Sabin exchanged looks.

Edgar gestured to the door behind them, still closed through all the commotion. "Then I heard the rumor that those guys had escaped from the dungeon."

Understanding lit Celes's face. "Ah. So you used them."

Edgar grinned. "Bingo. And, well, obviously, I couldn't let on that I was the king of Figaro, considering..."

Celes laughed and shook her head. "You were the one who threw them in there in the first place."

Sabin frowned. "But you could've told us."

Edgar grimaced. "I--" He froze and turned to the door. Sounded like they were about finished in there. "Uh-oh. Hide!"

He tucked himself behind a pillar next to the door. Celes and Sabin followed suit, with Sabin electing to hide next to his brother. This allowed him to get in an "accidental" elbow in the ribs. Edgar suppressed a chuckle. He got the message -- That was for being a jerk and pretending you didn't know us!

Good old Sabin.

The thieves burst through the doors, their arms loaded down with the contents of the room.

"Boss! Hey Boss!"

"Boss?"

The four looked around, and their faces fell. "The monster must've got 'im."

They actually looked crestfallen for a moment before they collectively shrugged it off and scurried away. Edgar wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.

The trio came out of hiding, and Celes spared a peek into the room. Empty.

"You don't care if they take the treasure?"

"I couldn't care less about treasure," said Edgar impatiently. He was starting to feel lightheaded from lack of oxygen, and he was sure the others could feel it too. "Those guys haven't done anything wrong... Not really. Not like Kefka."

The expressions on the others' faces darkened at the name.

"So... you'll come along?" Celes asked hopefully. "You'll help us fight him?"

"Of course!" He wanted nothing more.

Well, almost nothing.

Sabin whooped and slapped his brother on the back. "All right! Let's shake things up!"

"First thing's first," said Edgar, patting his brother's shoulder and heading for the exit. "Now that the engines are clear, we need to get to the surface as soon as possible. I'm sure you've both noticed how hard it is to breathe down here."

They made for the controls as fast as they could. All three were dizzy by the time they reached the spot where the operator lay unconscious. Edgar fumbled at the controls for a moment, then Sabin's steadier hands joined his and they moved the lever together. Immediately, the rumbling of the massive engines started up deep below them, and the castle began to rise.

The brothers exchanged bright grins, then slumped against each other. They were perilously close to joining the operator on the ground. Celes was barely better off, leaning back against the nearby pillar with her eyes squeezed shut, carefully controlling her breathing.

Come on... Any second now...

The rumbling stopped. There was a faint trickle of fresh air in the room. The three exchanged glances and hurried for the doors to the outside, supporting one another. They practically fell through the doors, laughing joyously at the sweet, hot desert air that greeted them. They greedily drew in the fresh air, lying on the flagstones and slowly recovering from their ordeal.

"We..." Edgar gasped out. "We need to... check on everyone... make sure they're all okay..."

"Right," Sabin agreed, pushing himself to his feet.

Celes exhaled slowly, steadying her breathing. "Let's split up and meet back in the throne room once we've found everyone," she suggested. The brothers nodded, and the trio scattered through the castle.

Edgar put the finishing touches on his ponytail. Finally, he was back. He looked in the mirror, and it was Edgar Roni Figaro, not Gerad, who stared back at him. He smiled, then turned to go meet up with the others.

They'd thoroughly swept the castle in just under an hour. What they found was largely encouraging-- almost everyone was already recovering. Edgar's expression darkened as he remembered the others. It was only a handful, few enough to count on one hand, who hadn't made it. Elderly, infirm, sick. Already at a disadvantage. But their deaths weighed on Edgar's conscience. He hadn't come soon enough.

And that was just those who'd died by asphyxiation. Inside the engine room, there were several guards who looked to have suffered more violent deaths. Figaro had not taken its fate sitting down, at least at first. However, it was clear to see that everyone who'd tried to fight the monster prior to his arrival had failed. He knew there was nothing he could have done for these guards, but all the same, they added to his feelings of guilt.

No, he told himself sharply. It wasn't his fault. None of the deaths were. He'd done everything he could. He'd pushed himself hard to get here as soon as he did, and he had saved hundreds of lives.

It was Kefka who ultimately held the blame for those deaths. Those, and so many more. And now, at last, Edgar would have a shot at avenging them. All of them.

He strode proudly into the throne room, grinning broadly at the two who waited there. Just seeing them filled him with hope. Here he was, a year after it had seemed all was lost. He had his kingdom back, his people, his brother, one of his dear friends. His life.

"Looking good, bro," said Sabin. He had his arms crossed over his broad chest, a huge grin on his face as he watched his big brother approach.

"I finally feel like me again," Edgar chuckled. "Amazing what a difference a shower and fresh clothes can make."

Celes shook her head. "I still can't believe you fooled anyone. You barely even changed your outfit. And 'Gerad'?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Really."

"That one was Locke's idea," Edgar said. "Back from when we needed to send messages in code for the Returners. You'd be surprised how effective it was."

Sabin frowned. "I... don't think I get it."

"Rearrange the letters, Sabin."

The younger twin spent just a moment thinking on it before realization dawned on his face and he burst out laughing. "Really?"

Edgar crossed his arms indignantly. "Well, fortunately these guys were idiots and I knew it. I didn't have to try that hard for them."

"Yeah, you stick with that explanation," said Celes with a grin.

"Anyway," Edgar said quickly, "I still have something to attend to."

"What's that?"

"It's been a full year since these people last saw the surface. They need to be brought up to date on... on what's happened."

Sabin and Celes sobered immediately. She ducked her head. "...Right..."

The Chancellor entered at the other end of the throne room, stopped a few meters away, and bowed. "King Edgar, the people are assembled."

Edgar nodded. He glanced back at the others with a grimace. "Well. Time to share the good news." He turned and strode toward the doors. He didn't want to have to place the burden of this world on his people, but... they needed to know. And they deserved to know why their king was running off again.

He emerged on a stone balcony above the castle's courtyard. The entire population of Figaro Castle gathered below, anxious faces turned upward. They already knew something was wrong. The sky was the wrong color, the sun felt different. The world was off.

Edgar took a deep breath and spoke. "I am glad to see you all alive and well. I deeply regret that I was unable to reach you sooner." There was a murmur among the crowd. Mostly, it sounded like appreciation. "I won't sugar-coat this. You deserve to know the full extent of the truth." He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. Here came the bombshell.

"The world has changed. Not for the better. You will recall the events of a year ago, when Emperor Gestahl and his underling Kefka attempted to harness the power that slept within the Esper world. I applaud the decision to submerge when the Floating Continent appeared, as that may well have saved all of your lives -- despite the danger it then put you in."

People were starting to look worried. They could feel where this was going. Edgar steeled himself. "Emperor Gestahl is dead. Kefka killed him."

Assorted shouts from the crowd. Edgar raised a hand to quiet them.

"I am sorry to say that was merely the beginning. Kefka... threw the very source of magic out of balance. This caused the world as we knew it to be destroyed."

Dead silence. Wide, frightened eyes stared up at him. He knew how they felt. "However! Humanity lives on. Towns are rebuilding. Trade is restarting. The problem is that Kefka lives as well."

A rumble of unease spread through the people. Edgar couldn't blame them. "This is why... I must leave you once more. I will return once Kefka is dead. I will rejoin the group of Returners who fought this evil before Kefka's reign, and I will ensure that this world is safe for humanity to thrive again."

Edgar stared out over the crowd. He'd said what needed to be said, but... the people were scared. Thinking back to the first few weeks at Scarlet's inn, he could understand that. They needed hope.

"I know you're all frightened. I understand. However, people of Figaro, know this!" He pressed his hands against the stone balustrade, eyes blazing as he looked out at the crowd. "You have survived! The world ended, and you survived! You were trapped underground for a year, and you survived! No matter what happens, no matter what the future holds, Figaro will live on!"

The crowd cheered. Some were more enthusiastic than others, but Edgar's words had given then the spark they needed. Figaro would not just live; it would thrive.

They retreated to Edgar's chambers following the speech. Reactions had been mixed, as was expected. Edgar addressed the peoples' concerns as best as he could before withdrawing. He was tired. He hadn't actually realized how non-stop he'd been pushing himself for the past several months until this very moment.

A firm hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to see Sabin's smile. "We've got this, bro."

Edgar smiled. "Yeah." He glanced over at Celes, who appeared to be lost in thought. The three of them had exchanged stories once they'd had a moment of quiet, but something told him Celes hadn't quite shared everything. Recalling his weeks of despair before receiving news of Figaro, Edgar thought he could fill in the blanks.

All right. Enough moping. He straightened up, forcing his exhaustion away. It could wait. "So. If we want to have a chance against Kefka, we're going to need to find the others." He locked eyes with both of his companions in turn. "We've survived. Knowing everyone, I'd say that odds are they did too."

Sabin and Celes exchanged glances. She spoke up first. "Well, we met Terra in Mobliz..."

"Really? That's great!"

Sabin shook his head. "We should leave her alone for now. She needs time to work through her feelings."

Edgar thought back to the various rumors he'd heard in the past months. That's right, he thought, recalling those quiet days at the inn near Tzen. There had been rumors of a young woman who'd showed up to take care of the orphaned children of Mobliz. He nodded. "All right. We'll check on her some time later, but we'll give her space for now. My suggestion is we start our search near Kohlingen." He retrieved his most recent map and a pencil from the pack he'd carried from Tzen. He marked a dotted line between Figaro Castle and a desert farther to the west. "The castle's fit to move at any time. If nothing else, we're sure to pick up some fresh rumors from around there."

Celes and Sabin both nodded in return. Their eyes were alight with determination.

It was time to get the gang back together.

#fic #fanfiction #final fantasy 6 #ff6 #edgar figaro #im not kidding about how long this is btw #im really really proud of how it came out tho!#always wondered what happened to everyone during that year #includes a couple of my personal headcanons and a minor oc #fun fact every single goddamn time i read the last line in this fic the relevant miracle of sound song pops in my head #can't tell if amusing or annoying #edgar is the best and you can fight me if you think otherwise #(actually no don't all of these characters are fucking wonderful i don't need to fite you)

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