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Chapter Text

Alarms blared, their shrieking cadence matching the flashing lights. Kirin’s hooves pounded a metallic counterpoint against the steel catwalk as they fled.

“Can’t you do something about that noise?” Cait Sith demanded as he bounded alongside his larger companions. The feline Esper laid his ears flat against his skull as he glared up at Siren.

“You know my powers don’t work on machines,” Siren snapped from where she rode on Kirin’s back. Her tattered silks flared out behind her and she clutched her harp closer.

“What about you, old man?” Cait Sith turned his ire on the elderly Esper running alongside him. “After years trapped in this hellhole, surely you’ve figured out how to fry their machinery?”

Ramuh took no offence at the caustic question. They were all terrified. But desperation overrode terror and spurred them onwards.

“I believe I can oblige you.”

With that grave statement, Ramuh planted his feet and raised his staff. His robes and beard fluttered as his power built, sending bolts of electricity skittering across the steel walls. The sparking tendrils fanned out in a web that wrapped around the lights and klaxons and burst, cutting off the noise and plunging them into darkness. Ramuh leaned against his staff, panting. Emergency lights flickered to life, bathing the catwalk in dim red, but the alarms stayed blessedly silent.

“Thank the Triad for small favors.” Cait Sith’s relieved sigh belied his arch tone.

A shot tore through the short-lived peace.

Siren’s agonized cry was a feeble thing after the deafening crack of the slug-thrower. She slumped against Kirin’s neck. Blood stained her skin, painting her arm with vermillion stripes. Kirin let out a pained bugle of his own as the same bullet that had clipped Siren’s shoulder buried itself in his flank. Golden ichor joined splattered crimson on his white coat.

“We’re cut off,” Siren gasped.

“Too slow,” groaned Cait Sith. “Always too slow.”

“No time for that.” Ramuh spoke sharply. “Right now, we have to survive.”

Cait Sith sighed. “Maybe you do.” The tiny cat squared his shoulders. “This is as far as I go.” He unsheathed his claws as he crouched. Baring needle-like teeth in a roguish grin, he glanced over his shoulder. “Pick me up on your way out, will you?”

Drawing the last of his power around him, he sprang, bouncing off the guardrails onto the soldiers’ helmets, leaving showers of golden sparkles in his wake. Immediately, the guards broke formation and turned their weapons on each other, babbling incoherently in anger and alarm. Blood splashed across the floor as friendly fire shredded through the ranks.

Light flashed within the crush of men and a crystalline thump sounded beneath the chaos. Moments later, the last soldier dropped and silence reigned again, stark and unforgiving.

The three remaining Espers crept forward. Kirin’s hooves echoed in a lopsided rhythm as he limped. Siren leaned against his snakelike neck, jaw clenched in pain.

Walking ahead of them, Ramuh scooped up Cait Sith’s magicite from where it lay amidst the bodies. The flame inside was faint, but steady. His nostrils flared once as he swallowed back tears and tucked the gem into his robes.

“Let’s go quickly,” he ordered gruffly. “Cait didn’t buy us this time so we could waste it grieving.”

Siren nodded against Kirin’s matted fur. Lifting his head, Kirin summoned his power, sending silver light cascading from his two golden horns. His sea-green mane rippled as the soothing aura bathed him and Siren. Both sighed in relief as their wounds began to heal.

I don’t have many of those left. His voice sounded in their minds, faintly out of breath. But I have enough to get us out of this cursed place.

They moved with what speed and silence they could, dodging patrolling soldiers. They’d cleared the main labs and had almost made it to the outside perimeter when a young guard rounded a large shipping container and nearly slammed into Kirin’s chest.

Before he could speak, Siren leaned down and cupped his cheek, tilting his chin to look into her golden, glowing eyes. Dazzled, his face went slack as he stared up at her.

“Shhhhhhhhhh,” she breathed, running her thumb over his bottom lip.

The soldier’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Siren continued to caress his face, humming a soft lullaby until he slumped backwards, dazed and half-asleep.

She groaned and swayed on Kirin’s back. “That’s the best I can do,” she slurred, struggling to stay upright, “unless I wish to turn to magicite as well.” Blood trickled anew as her wounded shoulder reopened.

Kirin snorted in alarm and cast another regenerative wave over her. The bleeding didn’t stop, but it did slow.

“Rest, child,” Ramah said. “Conserve your strength. You did enough.”

They hurried beyond Vector’s walls and began the long trek towards the mountains that hid their homeland.

Urgency aside, they stopped once they were safely away from the city to relish the wind on their skin and the grass and wildflowers beneath their feet. Siren sank down amidst the fragrant blossoms, stroking their tender petals, while Kirin rolled onto his back, snuffling and kicking all four legs in the air. Ramuh just closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the sky, cradling Cait Sith’s magicite in the sunlight.

Refreshed in spirit, if not in body, they continued onwards. Days and nights passed as they crept across the continent, letting the faint thrum of magic tug them towards home.

Their progress came to an unexpected halt in the eastern foothills when they stumbled in range of an Imperial garrison. The skirmish was brief and bloody, with Siren pouring everything into a song to cripple their enemies long enough for them to escape. Hiding in mountain caves, they huddled together as she succumbed to her wounds.

“Save it,” she rasped as Kirin readied his power. “I’m beyond healing now.” Stroking his velvet nose and gripping Ramuh’s gnarled hand, she let out her last breath. Ramuh tucked her magicite next to Cait Sith’s and bowed his head.

With no way home now, he took Kirin south. Heartsick and wounded still, their progress was slow.

They’d made it within sight of a coastal town when Kirin’s front legs buckled. He lowered himself into the grass and sighed.

This is where I stop. His weary voice sounded in Ramuh’s mind. We both know I’ll never make it off this continent. You pass for a human, but I cannot. Ramuh began to protest, but Kirin cut him off. Both times humans grew greedy for our power, I fought. Both times I was victorious – they did not get what they sought from me. I’m tired, old friend, in body and spirit.

“I understand, old friend.” Ramuh knelt beside him.

Take my last gift then, and use it to get to freedom. He summoned a pulse of healing power and sent it through Ramuh’s frame. Cradling Kirin’s horned head in his lap, Ramuh closed his eyes. When he opened them, all that remained of his friend was a hunk of magicite.

Stowing the third stone with the other two, Ramuh climbed to his feet and made his way into town. Kirin’s gift hummed through him, giving him just enough strength to take another step. No one paid the wizened old man any mind as he hobbled past the shops, through the terraced streets, and into the harbor. He found a boat bound north and crept into the hold, hiding amidst the sacks of grain and casks of wine.

When he next set foot on land, he bypassed the human towns and outposts, allowing the sky and winds to guide him. They led him to a ramshackle cluster of towers and rowhouses. He made his way through broken-cobbled streets, hood pulled low over his eyes. At last, he spied a bedraggled man leaning against one of the buildings and risked contact.

“What is this place?”

The thug grunted. “Zozo. Everythin’ what’s unwanted allus finds its way here.”

Ramuh nodded. He looked up at the dingy towers, letting the perpetual drizzle drench his skin. This smog-cloaked city, with its worn-out streets and weathered buildings fit his soul. He would stay until the stars and wind called him somewhere else. He found a deserted room at the top of the tallest tower. Alone with his thoughts and ghosts, he pulled out his friends’ magicite and laid them in a row.

He thought of the others still trapped in Vector, clinging to their physical forms, hiding the key to the power the humans wished to extract from them. He thought back farther, to friends lost the last time humans went to war with his kin, and back farther still to the stories his parents had told him of the very earliest days when their kind were created.

“The world won’t forget us, I promise. When the time is right, I’ll tell your stories,” he whispered to the glowing stones. “I’ll tell all our stories. Every last one.”

Chapter Text

Edgar tossed the magicite in the air as he sauntered out of Jidoor’s Auction House, whistling cheerfully. Bidding had been tough – too many rich folks enticed by a shiny bauble they didn’t understand. Locke’s jaw had nearly unhinged at the sheer amount of gil Edgar had shelled out, but everyone agreed it was worth it.

The Espers – Spirits? Souls? Ghosts? Edgar had no idea – frozen in crystal were still aware. The entire collection glowed brighter each time a new hunk of magicite was added, almost like they were welcoming long-lost friends and family home.

When they returned to the Falcon, Edgar excused himself to the cabin he’d converted to a makeshift workshop. Holding the new magicite in both hands, he closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, letting his mind open.

The consciousness that reached back was oddly metallic. The air stretched taut before popping with the faint smell of motor oil and smoke. Edgar opened his eyes and grinned.

The squat machine before him was humanoid. Its bronze body, legs, and shoulders were made up of basic shapes – cones, pyramids, and spheres – but its hands had an impressive degree of articulation. Its head was mounted on the front of its chest instead of atop its shoulders, giving it a hunched appearance. Two steel tubes rose out of its broad back and belched smoke and steam. Its yellow eyes flickered in a robotic imitation of blinking as it studied him back.

“Y-you are n-not a m-mage.” Its tinny voice skipped and chugged over the syllables. Edgar supposed it had speakers hidden behind its silver jaw.

“I am not,” he confirmed. He swept a dramatic bow. “I’m a mechanic.” He looked up and smirked. “Far more useful for the present company, wouldn’t you agree?”

“P-perhaps.” The machine couldn’t tilt its head, but whirred thoughtfully. “If I’d had a m-mechanic, I wo-would not have been such a dis-dis-disappointment.”

Edgar’s eyes widened. “Disappointment?”

“A f-failed experi-m-m-ment. N-not worth the m-magic.”

“But, you think! You talk! The fact you’re here like this means you’ve got something resembling a soul…” Edgar looked it up and down. “You’re amazing!”

The machine beeped self-deprecatingly. “Y-you should see m-my younger br-br-brother. The m-mages m-made him after m-me.” It lifted its hand in a jerky movement. “I was m-made to pro-pro-protect, but can’t do a l-l-lot. M-my br-br-brother can keep whole c-cities safe.”

“Well, that explains it.” Edgar nodded decisively. “Not a failure at all.” He widened his eyes. “You’re a prototype!”

The machine’s eyes flared. “P-pro-to-type.” It whirred and hummed in growing excitement. “N-not f-failure.”

Edgar grinned. “Exactly.”

From then on, Edgar felt a bit of proprietary protectiveness over that particular Esper. Everyone swore it came faster for him than anyone else. He just laughed and touted his services as its mechanic.

The mages who’d sparked the life within it hadn’t bothered to name it, so after some consideration, it chose to call itself ‘Golem’ as, true to its original purpose, it protected its newfound family.

Chapter Text

While the water was largely indifferent to what happened Above, it wasn’t immune.

Something had disturbed the krill, startling them into an unexpected feast. Bismark felt the foreign power coating them as he sucked them down.

He didn’t think he would’ve been able to understand what eating those krill sparked in him if he hadn’t eaten them in the first place.

The power lacing his meal spread through his body, languid and golden and warm. When it reached his mind, there was no twisting or knotting, just a rushing expansion, and now the creatures Above made just as much sense as his kin Below. He could feel them on the edges of his mind, though none of them could feel him. But then, none of them were looking for him. Even the Three Mothers – beings he could never have comprehended before – whose power had awakened him seemed unaware of the gift they’d given him.

He laughed as much as his kind could, but couldn’t translate the exhilaration and joy he was feeling into a song his kin could understand.

Years blurred together and Bismark grew, his size soon surpassed anything his kind was capable of. His slate-blue hide bleached itself an opalescent white and his eyes glowed gold with the Mothers’ power. That power had infused into his being and become his own – the ocean currents responded to his songs now. It was a heady feeling, but he understood how dangerous his new gift could be. In his caution, he sang less, and his kin mourned his newfound reticence, though they happily sang his praises when he guided extra krill their way.

By the time he felt the Mothers’ powers surge again in the Above, he had become something else entirely. The kin who had known him Before had long since died, and their descendants viewed him with something akin to awe – a glittering, ageless giant among them, gentle and quiet, who could produce food when it was scarce, provide protection when the water grew angry, or drive away predators with ruthless currents.

This time, the Mothers’ flashes of power were punctuated by smaller bursts from their other children, creatures Bismark had come to view as his kin just as much as he did those who swam and sang with him Below. He often thought about surfacing for more than just breath to see what was going on, but resisted the temptation, holding fast to his task of guarding the balance of Below.

Over time, the flashes of power lessened. But instead of peace, Bismark felt only emptiness and a desperate tugging in his soul. When he felt the Mothers’ presence abruptly darken and the combined power of his Above kin begin to fade, he broke his silence and sent one plea into the void.

Don’t leave me behind!

A faint answer – an invitation – echoed back to him.

He hurled himself upwards, breaching the ocean’s surface in a spinning froth of spray. Above him, the sky was so bejeweled with stars he could barely make out the comets that all streaked southwards.

Answering their call, he surged from the sea and flung himself skyward, swimming through the air as effortlessly as he’d long swum through the water. Twirling and arching, he followed the lights, singing his farewell to his beloved oceans, even as his heart soared with elation at dancing in the stars.

When he reached the mountains, he marveled at their alien beauty, undulating through mist and rolling through forests as he created new songs to celebrate them.

He followed his kin upwards through an especially thick cloud bank, breaching through the frozen water into a splash of glittering sunlight. Ahead towered a sheer cliff-face with a single, yawning cave maw halfway up. Powerless now against the tug of the Mothers’ magic, Bismark swam through the dark, listening to the stalactites drip in the silence, until he came out the other side into endless rolling fields of rippling grasses.

Hundreds of minds touched his with joy.

We meet you at last, brother! Welcome home!

Chapter Text

He was a king of his people once, ruling a subterranean kingdom alongside his fierce and brilliant wife. That fierceness and brilliance hadn’t been enough to save her during the Mage War. The foolish, greedy humans had decided that summoning his people wasn’t enough – no, they wanted to claim the magic for their own and so stole her from him at the tip of a sword.

In his grief, he’d flooded the battlefield and destroyed them all. Then he sank to the ocean floor and slept, rejoining his beloved queen in dreams and memory.

Now, a new foolish, greedy human had woken him. Magic or not, no one could’ve slept through the planet’s shrieking pain as it writhed and contorted under another’s control.

When he surfaced, he was appalled to find, despite the cataclysm, humanity was clinging to life, filling their little port town with trade and noise. More galling was the fact they still had the audacity to cross his domain after all they took from him.

Their matchstick ships were no match for his wrath. But no matter how many he capsized, crushed, and sank, they still sent more out. Oh, they tried to avoid his territory, and he felt their fear tingle along his mind as they snuck past, but it did them little good. Only ships with children were spared. Their innocence twinkled like will-o-whips in the dark and he would not snuff that out.

So the days wore on in a pattern of crashing tides and debris, until one specific ship crossed into his hunting grounds. The usual fear was there, but a cluster of brave minds and surprisingly honorable spirits called to him.

Maybe not a hunt today, but a test? No one had merited such consideration since his little green-haired summoner so many ages ago.

Rising from the deep, he let them see his shadow, coiling lazily around the ship as he weighed their worthiness. But when he felt the magic from their collection of his slain brethren, rage wiped out all other considerations. There would be no testing, only slaughter.

He lifted his head and coils out of the water, drawing the sea back in a roiling tidal wave, ready to release on his command.

Leviathan! Stop!

He knew that voice. He paused.

Ramuh, my brother. These wretched mortals hoard your corpses and you ask me to stop? Why should they be spared?

We gave ourselves willingly. They did not participate in our deaths. In fact, they saved us from something worse.

Flashes of memories showed Ramuh’s words to be true.

Fine. But they shall still be tested like the summoners of old. If they pass, I will give them my power to wield as well.

With that, he released the tide. The ship bucked and spun in the waves, but did not sink. To his surprise, the warriors in his crucible spent just as much time using their power to keep the ship afloat and its other passengers safe as they did repelling his attacks. Impressed despite himself, he pelted them with stinging rain and torrential winds, but they were undeterred, flinging back fire and bladed strikes of their own. There was no hatred in their attacks, simply grim determination to survive.

When they defeated him, he conceded with something almost like relief. Letting himself fade to magicite, he joined his long-lost kin in the hands of another green-haired girl. As he listened to their plans to defeat this latest mad mage, he felt something in his heart unclench.

For the first time in a long time, he was at peace.

Chapter Text

Anyone else would say the flames were raging out of control. Ifrit snarled and extended his clawed fingers. Raging? Yes. Out of control? No. His inferno did exactly what he told it to. He lobbed another fireball into the fray, relishing the screams of his enemies.

But no matter how many charred corpses he left, this was a battle he couldn’t win. His only goal was to buy as much time for his escaping kin as possible, filling the mountain pass with smoke and pain, clogging it with corpses.

A bolt of magic seared his ribs. Damn – these mages were powerful. Years of war had given them plenty of time to develop new ways of taking his kind down, each more brutal than the last.

Another burst of pain. He fell to one knee. Poison boiled through his veins, burning him in a way fire never could.

A third strike sliced a strip from his back. The parched air crackled in his lungs as he drew breath to roar his defiance to the hell-dyed skies. Figures moved in the smoke, surrounding him, closing in, faceless and formless in their menace.

“Wake up, dear one. We’re safe now. You kept us safe.”

Blessed coolness trickled down his spine, spreading over his ribs and shoulders.

The pain drained away. The enemy mages blurred and faded. Even the flames dimmed, becoming something indistinct and far away. Soon, Ifrit was alone in an empty space, his heartbeat the only sound in the silence, until even that softened beyond his hearing.

He opened his eyes to velvet darkness that did nothing to impede his sight but was more comforting than harsh daylight. A plush mattress was beneath him. The air was moist and cool. Behind him, Shiva hummed a lullaby and traced frozen fingers along his back. Her magic left winding lines of ice crystals on his skin that quickly melted from his perpetual heat.

“How can you stand to touch me?” Ifrit watched a droplet trail over his shoulder and down his chest. He caught it on his knuckles and it evaporated into puff of steam.

Shiva chuckled dryly. “I am not made of ice, you know. You will not melt me.” She continued her caresses, gentle hands soothing away the remnants of the nightmare.

He remembered when those hands were as battle-worn as his – hard, calloused, and anything but gentle. Time and peace had done much to erase those scars. He let out a breath. The mages were long dead and their malice couldn’t reach his people here.

“Still…” Ifrit reached back to capture a strand of her hair, winding the emerald silk around his finger. She smelled of frost and steam and home. He let out another breath and felt his muscles finally begin to loosen.

She shifted, molding herself against him. “You’re wonderfully warm.” He felt her snuggle against his back, nestling her cheek into his shoulder blades. Her arms wrapped around his waist. “It’s—” a contented yawn broke her sentence— “pleasant.”

Releasing the lock of hair, Ifrit laced his fingers with hers, taking care not to scratch her. Pressing their joined hands over his heart, he followed her back down into sleep, unafraid of what specters might await him.

She was always there to pull him back to the living.

Chapter Text

Kirin whuffled as he waded into the underground pool. Hidden from the sun, the water was bracingly cold, even through his shaggy coat. His hooves scrabbled for purchase against the rocks below, but the water soon grew deep enough he’d need to swim. He stopped at the deepest point where he could still stand and blew out a wuthering snort.

Lowering his two golden horns to the water’s surface, he gathered his power to himself and released it, coating the pool in rippling silver light. When the light faded, he gathered his power again and repeated the process over and over until the water shimmered with a pearlescent sheen all its own.

He shook his horns and sea-green mane, sending glittering droplets flying. Carefully mincing his way out of the pool, he returned to where the rest of his squad was setting up camp.

Undulating in a slow ouroboros, Terrato called on his own power to raise large boulders in a semicircle at the bank of the spring. His scaled coils rustled and scraped as he moved. Behind him, another member of their squadron inscribed glowing runes of protection into each boulder. Once they were done, this space would be safe and incorruptible for ages to come.

Any word from the patrol? Kirin sent the question out.

A general negative murmur, both mental and verbal, was the reply.

“The commander went out to check while you were making the recovery spring,” Titan said as he set up their supplies.

Kirin nodded. Only thing to do is wait then. His snake-like neck drooped as his exertions caught up with him.

“Take a load off, Doc,” called Yojimbo. “We’ll wake you if you’re needed when they get back.”

Whickering his thanks, Kirin plodded to a sandy nook between some large rocks and settled in to rest.

-●-

He woke to someone patting his withers. Half inclined to kick, he snorted and blearily raised his head. Yojimbo took a step back and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

“Patrol’s back.”

Any wounded?

“A few cuts and sprains, some Magefire burns.” Yojimbo’s mouth twitched. “Commander’s got the worst of it.”

Kirin looked skyward for patience and climbed to his feet. Great. Weary sarcasm laced his mental voice.

Yojimbo laughed. “Good luck, Doc. He’s all yours.”

Kirin trotted to where the patrol had reported in. True to Yojimbo’s assessment, most of the injuries were minor enough that Kirin only needed to use minor regenerative spells and send them on their way.

Then there was their intrepid commander.

Gilgamesh hustled through the camp, inspecting the new recovery spring and the protective pillars, shouting orders for supply storage, and threatening surprise weapons inspections. Kirin caught up with him and blocked his path.

Your turn, Commander. Let’s take a look at those ribs.

Gilgamesh waved him away. “’Tis a mere scratch.”

Kirin bristled at the blasé dismissal and shook his mane. The commander genuinely had the skills to match his reputation, but that just made him oblivious to his own vulnerability.

Your belt is soaked in blood. Your own from the smell of it.

“I’ll be fine.” Gilgamesh skirted around him and started towards the camp kitchen.

Oh, will you? Kirin fixed his commander with a baleful glare. Gonna put that on your tombstone – ‘he said he’d be fine’. He stomped his hooves warningly close to Gilgamesh’s toes and tossed his head. Sit.

Gilgamesh rolled his eyes and tried to move around him again. Kirin let out a sharp bugle, stopping everyone in their tracks.

Can someone with opposable thumbs hold this moron down before he bleeds out?

Yojimbo and Titan approached. “Best listen to the doc, sir.”

Outnumbered now, Gilgamesh grumbled and fumed, but took a seat on a nearby boulder. Titan pinned him with a meaty hand to his shoulder and Yojimbo peeled off his armor. Seeing the chunk missing from his side made all of them wince. Even Gilgamesh flinched.

“That… may indeed be worse than I thought…”

Summoning his power, Kirin set his horns against the wound. The gash began to seal itself and Kirin directed the others to bandage it as the magic did its work. Stretching his neck to be nose-to-nose with Gilgamesh, he snorted directly in his face.

Stubborn idiot.

Wiping snot and spray from his face, Gilgamesh grinned. “The churls who challenged me fared far worse.”

Chapter Text

She was the first to release her grip on her physical form, crystallizing alone in the garbage chute where her broken body had been abandoned by her captors. No one paid any mind to the lump of rock that dropped into the incinerator and no one noticed the faint glimmer in the ashes as they raked them out and dumped them.

No one until the thief.

Dirty and unshaven, he brazenly pawed through the refuse, scooping up anything he thought would net him some coin. Finding a palm-sized gemstone that glowed from within was an unexpected jackpot. Tucking his prize into his shirt, he scurried away, already calculating how much he could wring from potential buyers.

He was celebrating his haul in Tzen’s tiny pub when she spoke to him. He nearly toppled off his seat before squinting soddenly at his tankard.

“Brew’s strong tonight,” he slurred, knocking back another swig.

I am not some drunken specter, she said, affronted and already less than impressed with her new companion.

Ignoring the voice, the thief tossed a few coins across the bar and tottered out the door. Weaving an unsteady path through the town, he made his way to the grubby garret room he rented. Inside, he flopped onto his bed and toed off his boots and promptly fell asleep.

Still tucked in his inner pocket, the magicite flickered. If an ethereal sigh gusted through the room, no one was conscious enough to hear it.

-●-

The thief woke up and immediately regretted it. With his pulse throbbing in his temples and vengeful ghosts of last night’s liquor on his tongue, he rolled onto his back and groaned. Fumbling through his clothes, he pulled out his treasure and held it aloft, watching as the inner flame shifted and blurred between the facets.

It seemed almost… annoyed?

Of course I’m annoyed, the same voice from last night sounded in his head. You drank too much and now I have to feel it too.

“Bloody Triad, you’re still here.”

I told you, I’m not a drunken specter!

“Ugh. Quit yelling, will you?” He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat upright, rubbing his temples. “At least until this cursed hangover goes away.”

There was a pause before the voice replied, sullen, but at least quieter. I could help with that.

The thief made a ‘get on with it’ motion and continued cradling his forehead.

You have to summon me, or I can’t do anything.

“Well, I don’t bloody know how to do that.”

Just say my name.

“Don’t know that either, now do I?”

Seraph.

“Well, Seraph, go on and fix my head, will you?”

The sentence had hardly left his mouth when the stone in his hand came to life, rainbow flames flaring and spiraling outwards. He yelped, but kept hold of it as a slender, winged woman swathed in violet silk burst forth in a beam of light. She glared at him and flapped her feathered wings once, showering him with golden sparks. Immediately, his hangover receded and his mind cleared.

Purpose fulfilled, she disappeared and the stone returned to its usual state, flame flickering condescendingly inside.

Is that satisfactory? He could feel the woman roll her eyes.

“Goddess, that beats any hair of the dog, lemme tell you!”

His eyes gleamed as a scheme occurred. With an over-wide grin, he tucked the stone into his vest pocket and strolled out of his room.

Just wait until the townsfolk got a load of her.

-●-

It started on street corners, hawking panaceas in a town desperate for miracles. Seraph couldn’t turn away from the suffering. Every time the thief called, she came, fanning golden light over whichever hope-starved person he’d ensnared. What satisfaction she got from easing their pain was soon buried under his insistence on payment for their – really her – efforts.

It costs me nothing to help them, she protested.

“And yet they’re willing to pay everything. That’s the beauty of it,” he rejoined, counting the stack of coins. He grunted in a dissonant mix of glee and dissatisfaction. “People are poor as spit in this dump. I’m lucky to get 50 gil a pop. We need to take this operation to greener pastures.”

-●-

In Albrook, they did much the same thing they’d done in Tzen. The thief bought a small tent to “add to the allure”, but Seraph was pretty sure he was trying to hide their activity from the same people who’d imprisoned her and her kin. Either way, word of mouth spread, sending people – richer and less desperate, but still in need – to the alleyway where he’d set up shop.

They were still in pain, so she still helped them, despite the roiling in her gut each time her captor summoned her. Handfuls of coins turned to pouches and he cackled as he counted their earnings.

“Not bad,” he crowed, “but we can do better.” He calculated the fare for a cargo ship. Seraph protested, but was helpless to do anything as he tucked her into his vest pocket and went to the docks.

-●-

“3000 gil, you say?” The Jidoorini aristocrat puffed out his cheeks and stroked his oversized belly, glancing around at the expensive art that lined the walls of his opulent sitting room.

“A fair price for a miracle cure, wouldn’t you say?” No longer grubby, but squeezed into a gaudy suit with his hair slicked back, the thief smiled a toothy grin.

The aristocrat drained a goblet of wine and shoved a tart topped with candied bacon into his mouth.

He could cure his own gout by consuming more nutritious food, grumbled Seraph, knowing the aristocrat couldn’t hear her and her captor wouldn’t acknowledge her.

Wiping his hands on his silken vest, the aristocrat flicked his wrist at a servant. The man produced the requisite chest of gold and the thief pulled out his flame-filled stone. Holding it aloft, he smirked.

“Seraph.”

Pain was pain. The spoiled rich man might have created his own, but he was still hurting. And Seraph could never turn her back on someone who was hurting.

Feathers flared, golden light flashed, and the dazzled nobleman handed over his money.

-●-

Too many “miracles” in Jidoor finally drew the attention of her previous captors, so her current captor smuggled them back to Tzen. As hope-starved as ever, the small town offered meager protection.

“Gotta offload you, darlin’,” the thief muttered. “Nothin’s worth the kinda trouble the Empire will bring me.”

Despite knowing first-hand the miracles she’d produced, no one in town could afford the price the thief demanded. Even the travelers that came and went shook their heads. Seraph thought she’d felt the phantom presence of old friends, but they’d left before she could be sure.

“Come on,” the thief groaned as they walked away.

Looks like we’re stuck together – bitterness coated her mental voice – darlin’.

-●-

There was so much pain now. Seraph was drowning in it. The earth had rearranged itself at a madman’s whim and now everything screamed.

Exiled to the woods behind town and desperate to scrape together some coin, her captor tried to peddle her power again. But no matter how hard or often he shouted her name, she no longer came.

There was just too much.

Whatever healing she did was just a drop in a bottomless ocean of blood and suffering. Her flame dimmed and curled in on itself inside its crystal casing. The thief tried to summon her again. She did not respond.

Until they came back.

The travelers who’d come through town so long ago found them again. This time, the voices of her kin were numerous enough and loud enough to drown out the omnipresent agony.

Come with us, sister!
We’ve missed you so much!
These humans are strong of heart and mind. They’ll set things right if we help them!

“Look, how’s 10 gil sound for this thing?” Her captor’s voice grated across her ear. “C’mon, man, it’s a steal.”

For once, Seraph didn’t object to the exchange of coins. As soon as the golden-haired giant took her from her captor, she felt the love of so many of her kin flood through her. Her flame leapt and sparked with hope she hadn’t felt in years.

“I’m Sabin,” the giant said, gentle and friendly. “I’m glad we found you.”

She returned his greeting. I’m glad you found me too.

Chapter Text

Laughing, Locke sprinted up the stairwell. A white-faced, grey cat bounded along beside him, running on his hind legs, feet encased in tiny boots, green capelet fluttering behind him.

“I haven’t had this much fun in ages,” Cait Sith crowed as they careened around a corner. Behind, three brawlers and a tavern dancer yelled insults and curses as they tried to keep up.

Locke had hit it off with this particular Esper and it was no secret Cait Sith preferred him to any of the others. Shortly after their first summoning, they’d sensed a kindred spirit in each other.

Zozo had provided the perfect stage for their partnership. Locke would pick the marks and Cait Sith would pounce, sowing golden sparkles and confusion in equal measure. In the wake of the chaos, Locke would wind through the group, picking pockets and relieving people of their valuables. Given that they’d stolen said valuables themselves, even Cyan couldn’t object to the game too much.

Cait Sith’s influence meant, even if Locke was caught mid-lift, the target usually apologized to him as he divested them of trinkets, coins, and jewelry. The effect was short-lived though – hence the thugs chasing them up the stairs.

They’d reached the top of the building. Ahead of them, a brawler in red with muscles to rival Sabin’s loitered with his posse. He grinned menacingly when he saw them coming and cracked his knuckles.

The group behind them was growing louder and closer. Caught between two hostile crowds, Locke and Cait Sith exchanged glances.

“Any ideas?” Cait Sith panted.

Locke scanned the area. Behind the brawler was an open balcony, and beyond that, another building with a rusted fire escape that led to the street. It might be close enough, but only just.

“I’ve got one...”

“Is it a good idea?”

Locke just grinned and shrugged.

“That bad, huh?” Cait Sith’s eyes lit up. “I knew there was a reason I liked you! Lead the way.”

Breaking into a run, Locke pointed at the brawler. “That one!”

Cait Sith sprang, golden magic trailing in his wake, and bounced off the brawler’s head.

“Wha?” The big man shouted. “No one strikes Dadaluma!” His protest trailed off as his eyes unfocused and he looked around, bewildered.

Locke vaulted over him, leapfrogging off his shoulders. Landing in a crouch, he grabbed Cait Sith by the cowl of his capelet and sprinted towards the balcony. Without slowing, he flung himself over the edge, keeping a tight hold of the Esper.

Bicycling his legs in the air and windmilling his arms, he cleared the distance and landed on the metal stairs on the neighboring building. Cackling, Cait Sith swung up onto his shoulders, claws catching on Locke’s bandanas. Hands and feet on each railing, Locke slid downwards, grinning up at the enraged mob across the gap.

“That is the craziest stunt I’ve ever seen a human pull.” Cait Sith panted from his perch. He bared needle-like fangs in a wild grin. “I’ve always said thieves are more fun. You’re alright, kid.”

Locke coughed. “First off – and I can’t stress this enough – it’s treasure hunter. But… yeah, you’re alright too.”

Chapter Text

Palidor had never seen such an exquisite creature in all his days – so small and such gorgeous white and black plumage. Its size couldn’t hide its devotion to flight though. This was a soul marked by wind and sky.

Overcome, he fluffed his violet neck feathers and puffed out his chest. He hopped a few steps to the left and then back to the right, bobbing his head. Lowering his beak to skim the sand and raising his hips in the air, he fanned his rainbow tailfeathers, warbling low in his throat.

Desperate to entice the object of his adoration, he repeated the dance, keeping a respectful distance until he was given leave to approach.

So far nothing. That was ok – he had other moves.

He swung his head in a circle, first clockwise, then counter-clockwise, stomping his feet in a staccato rhythm. Extending his wings to their fullest span, he cooed and trilled expectantly.

Still nothing. Well, all good things were worth working for. He had a cousin who’d danced for days to woo his chosen mate.

Bending his knees, he sprang high into the air. He swiveled his head from side-to-side, legs locked, bouncing in place, showing off his feathers’ envious color and sheen. Surely that magnificent sight would soften the hardest of hearts.

-●-

When he’d picked the hunk of magicite off the beach and called to the spirit within, Setzer had speculated over a variety of outcomes. But not this. No amount of calculating the odds would’ve predicted this set of cards, much less present it as the winning hand.

And yet, here he was, watching a bird the size of a small sailboat perform what could only be a complex mating dance while maintaining a troubling amount of eye contact.

With him. Only him. Those golden eyes never strayed or blinked. Setzer swallowed.

Behind him, Locke had doubled over laughing, tears pricking his eyes. Sabin was no better. He held himself upright on the thief’s shoulders, wheezing, having run out of breath to laugh some minutes ago. Not that that was stopping him.

“I think – I think he likes you,” Locke gasped.

Somewhat more composed, but no less amused, Edgar smirked as he watched the display.

“And here I thought you were the peacock, Setz.” The smirk turned to a shit-eating grin.

Setzer just groaned and rubbed his jaw. “Praise be to Lady Luck no one else is here to see this.”

-●-

Having finished foraging for supplies, Celes, Terra, and Relm crossed the bluff overlooking the beach, only to stop in their tracks.

It only took a few moments for Relm to plant her easel amidst the dry grass and pull out her watercolors, snickering as she hurried to capture the spectacle below.

Celes just blinked as a giant bird began hopping in circles around Setzer, swishing its wings from side-to-side as it wagged its head. Beside her, Terra hovered uncertainly, torn between concern and helpless giggles.

“Should we go help him?”

Relm cut off Celes’ reply. “No! Not ‘til I finish this painting!” She cackled gleefully. “Next time he calls me ‘pipsqueak’, I’m giving it to him as a present!”

Chapter Text

It had been named for some fabled end of days. Most didn’t understand, since its purpose and power was to transform, not to destroy. But what was an end of an era but the chance for a new one to spring forth?

Its creator had been wise. He understood that nothing could be created from nothing and that nothing truly returned to nothing, but rather, everything slid around in an endless cycle of rebirth and reuse, carving new creations out of the old until the end of time.

It’s why he made his instrument of transformation a sword.

-●-

No one quite knew what to expect when the old man pulled a hunk of magicite out of the chest in his deserted shop. Celes cradled the warm stone in her hands, listening intently as the shopkeeper offered to forge the magicite into a sword or give it to them in its current form.

The flame within the stone quivered with something like excitement.

After a few minutes of consideration, Celes shook her head.

“The world is full of swords.” She glanced down at the stone. Its flame stilled, but it radiated contentment. “This is far more precious as it is.”

The shopkeeper nodded, though not without trying one last time. “The sword I could make from this would be powerful beyond measure.”

Celes’ lips tilted in a half-smile. “I believe you. But we already have several of those.”

-●-

When its new mistress summoned it, she did so more out of curiosity than necessity. The creature menacing her was defeatable without Ragnarok’s interference, but it was pleased she’d summoned it all the same.

Slicing through the air, it buried itself in the ground, light reflecting off its blade in a sunburst of magical power. The ogre hardly had time to sound its confusion before it was consumed, its essence cleaved down to atoms. They swirled around the divine blade in an endless dance of potential.

But what form called to them? Ragnarok felt their vibrations come into harmony as they knit themselves together into something new. They wavered before it, amorphous, waiting for the final burst of magic to solidify their transformation.

It fulfilled its purpose.

-●-

The magicite’s light faded and their foe was nowhere to be found. The air prickled with echoes of energy and something glinted where it used to be. Approaching with caution, Celes let out a sharp laugh once she realized what it was. She brandished it aloft so the others could see.

“Another sword,” she called back, laughing. “Shadow can add it to his collection.” The assassin had an uncanny knack for producing blades from the unlikeliest of places. So far, no one had found where he was hiding them.

Hefting the sword, she frowned. It was oddly light, like it was hollow. She swung it experimentally. It seemed almost brittle as it cut through the air. Magic hummed through the blade up into the hilt and pommel, itching against her fingertips. If she swung it, would it shatter? Or would that magic explode out into something new?

Perhaps she’d find out the next time something scary thought to pick a fight.

Chapter Text

Happy squeals sounded from the front garden, pulling Madeline from the clothesline where she’d been hanging their laundry. Rounding the corner of the house, she found herself smiling ear-to-ear at the sight that greeted her.

Her big, strong husband – with his warrior’s body and horns and claws – lay flat on his back in the grass and wildflowers while their tiny daughter sat on his head. Terra bounced her diapered bottom against her father’s cheek, giggling with every laughing groan he let out.

Carbuncle had come to visit and had joined the fun as well. With fur almost as green as Terra’s hair, the little fox-like Esper bounded around and over Maduin’s prone form. His squeaks and barks were as excited as the toddler’s, tail wagging frantically as sunlight glinted off the ruby on his forehead.

He sprang high into the air and landed on Maduin’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him with a strangled grunt.

Madeline burst out laughing. Looking over at her, Maduin grinned and curled forward, scooping fox and child into his arms as he rolled to his feet. Tucking Carbuncle under one arm and hitching Terra over the other shoulder, he spun in a quick circle before releasing his wiggling cargo, setting them on the ground so they could continue to play. Racing, shrieking, and rolling, they bounded through the garden in a wild game of tag.

Dusting himself off, Maduin came over to stand by his wife, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they watched Carbuncle and Terra frolic with heedless glee.

-●-

The airship needed repairs, so Setzer had anchored them in a secluded field of flowers. The others had gone to stretch their legs – Sabin, Cyan, and Gau to train and practice against the local flavor of monster, while Celes and Locke sought out the nearest town to resupply.

Terra had chosen to stick close to the airship, savoring the safety that came with solitude.

She pulled out a chunk of their newly acquired magicite and held it close before reaching out to summon the spirit within. In a shower of reflective blue light, Carbuncle materialized, curled tight as he landed in her arms. Esper and woman stared at each other for a moment before Carbuncle let out an earsplitting squeal and launched himself forwards, licking her face and wriggling joyously.

Maduin’s girl-child! All grown up!

Terra laughed and nuzzled her cheek between his silky ears. Her memories were still hazy and she’d been too young to remember playdates with Carbuncle on her own, but her father was happy to fill in the gaps, especially when he could show her just how loved she’d been.

Sliding free of her embrace, Carbuncle bounded around her legs, tail waving and ears swiveling as he invited her to play once again. Stifling a giggle, Terra happily chased him through the meadow. Just like old times, they rolled and capered through the flowers. Their antics soon drew Mog’s attention, and the exuberant moogle rushed to join them, leading them around in new dances until the three of them were dizzy and laughing.

Some time later, from up on the Blackjack’s deck, Edgar and Setzer paused their work to check on the trio. Below, Terra sat with Carbuncle curled in her lap and Mog slouched against her shoulder. Carefully, she placed one delicate flower crown on Carbuncle’s head before doing the same for Mog. Both moogle and Esper looked at her adoringly as she smiled in utter contentment.

Chapter Text

When Ramuh had first reached his mind out, he’d been searching for others of his kind. The humans in Vector might’ve been the latest reason his kin had been pulled into this world, but the weren’t the first. Surely, he wasn’t the only one who existed outside their clutches.

He’d thought he felt the echoes of an old friend far to the frozen east. In stretching out cautious mental tendrils, he’d found something else entirely – a surprisingly agile mind and determined spirit in the most unexpected package.

Brushing against that mind pulled him a dreamscape that shifted between straw-filled caves and hollowed-out trees. In the middle of the blurring environment was a tiny, fluffy moogle. His pompom bristled and his wings fluttered aggressively as he planted his hind paws and stood with his front paws akimbo.

“Kupo?” It was belligerent question. Ramuh needed no translation as the moogle squeaked and chattered up at him, tiny fangs bared in an adorable snarl.

He laughed – a sound he hadn’t heard from himself in decades. “Your spirit is exactly what this world will need, little one. But first,” he held up one gnarled finger, “you’ll need words.”

“Kupopo-po!”

-●-

Ramuh pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

He’d met Mog in this dreamscape so often, it had solidified into something predictably comfortable, now a cozy cave lined with roots and straw with a set of stone slabs that served as a table and stools.

Today, on the table lay a coil of rope. Ramah pointed.

“Let’s try again. Rrrr-oh-pe.” He enunciated each consonant and vowel clearly.

Mog squinted at it and eyed Ramuh. Peeling his lips back in an imitation of Ramuh’s mouth, he took a breath. “Rrrrrrrr-upo!” Mog crossed his furry arms and cocked his head.

A glint in his eye made Ramuh raise an eyebrow. “I think you know that’s not right.”

If Mog had eyebrows, he’d have lifted them. Every inch of his cocky stance screamed you can’t prove it. Ramuh’s eyes narrowed, eyebrows knitting together and bushing out over the bridge of his nose. He pursed his lips as he studied the defiant little moogle.

The tip of his staff flared and a thin bolt of electricity shot down from the ceiling – not enough to cause harm or even pain, but enough to make his point.

Mog’s fur stood on end, puffed out in all directions, tips crackling with static. His wings splayed and his pompom quivered. Resembling a wad of cotton fluff, he blinked his huge eyes a few times before he sighed.

“Okay, okay, kupo.” He smoothed his fur down with his paws, rolling his eyes at Ramuh. “Rrrrrope.” A slight growl still colored the syllables, but it was obvious he had the vocabulary down. “Happy?”

Ramuh sat down again. “Quite.”

-●-

Mog’s vocabulary was growing by leaps and bounds, though not in a way Ramuh was necessarily happy about.

He swore like street brawler with the slang and sass of a tavern dancer.

“Where are you learning these things?” Ramuh asked once, already fearing the answer. Zozo’s accent had infected Mog’s speech. His latest round of invective was something Ramuh had heard only the evening before in the tavern where he was least likely to get food poisoning.

Mog shrugged. “They just pop up, kupo.”

Ramuh sighed. The dreamscape might be predictable at this point, but it was still a portal between his unconscious and Mog’s. He doubted he could make Mog ignore the words that floated passively in the back of his mind. Ramah blew out a breath. If he tried, the irrepressible little moogle would just latch on to them more.

“It is what it is, then.” He sighed again as Mog nodded decisively.

“Damn straight, kupo.”

-●-

Ramuh watched Mog happily demonstrate his newest dance moves, chattering away about his girlfriend and the latest music he’d heard in the stones that made up his home.

Leaning back in his chair, Ramuh stroked his beard, impressed that Mog was so attuned to the natural world he could hear fragments of the songs that had gone into its creation. His instincts about the diminutive creature had been correct – a warrior’s soul in a deceptively cuddly package. His lips twitched in a small smile he’d never let Mog see.

A particularly complex set of footwork opened a gaping hole in the dreamscape’s floor. Mog didn’t even have time to shout before it began sucking him in.

Grasping Mog by the scruff, Ramuh smacked the ground hard and sent tendrils of lighting down into the void. A muffled snarl sounded right before the floor slammed shut with an electricity-laden crack. Panting, eyes flashing beneath his bushy eyebrows, he rounded on Mog.

“Mogu Kupornikus Moggington Kupoldi!” Mog flinched at the use of his full name, but was still too rattled to protest. “The primal melodies are not toys to be played with lightly!” Ramuh took a steadying breath and gentled his tone. “Even in dreams, there are things that will not hesitate to consume you. You must be careful.”

More serious than Ramuh had ever seen him, Mog nodded.

-●-

Lights had started flickering to life around the world – resilient, courageous spirits rising to face the coming darkness. With each new flare, Ramuh knew his time with Mog was drawing to a close. The moogle’s light shone just as brightly as his intended companions.

“You should meet the humans who are coming to Narshe,” Ramuh said soberly.

“Narshe’s full of humans,” Mog fired back, dismissal hiding unease. “We usually go out of our way not to meet them, kupo.”

“These ones are different. They’re like you – bright, strong, and full of spirit. Your destiny is entwined with theirs.”

Mog studied his paws before glancing sidelong at Ramuh. “Moogles don’t do destiny, kupo. Destiny’s a big word.”

Ramuh scoffed. “You’ve never shied away from big words a day in your life.” He felt his time in the dream ending and started to fade. “Just consider it. Enough candles can light the whole house and keep the shadows at bay. You all will need each other.” With that, he was gone.

-●-

In the waking world, Mog rolled over in his nest with a squeaky snore. He cracked one eye open in the darkness.

“I hope you’re right about this, old man,” he muttered, snuggling back into the warm moogle ball with Molulu and his family.

Looks like he’d be paying the cliffs a visit in the morning.

Chapter Text

“How did I get talked into this? I’m a general, not some opera floozy!” Celes muttered as she paced in the wings, smoothing shaking hands down her frothy skirts.

Who just so happens to share Maria’s face. Siren’s voice laughed from where her magicite lay on the table beside the libretto.

“Her face is not her voice,” snapped Celes. “And – this may sound irrational, but hear me out – her voice is the important part!”

Celes wouldn’t deny she enjoyed singing, and she could even carry a decent tune, but she held no illusions about the quality of her voice – good enough for the shower or joining in with the rest of her platoon at the pub, but never for the stage.

You need to relax, darling, Siren cooed, still laughing. I told you I’d help with that part. You have nothing to worry about.

Celes stomped back to the libretto, reading the stanzas over again for good measure. The magicite’s flame leapt and curled playfully at her. She rolled her eyes. This particular Esper could out-flirt Edgar, driving even their resident ladies’ man to blushes.

“You’ve been very vague about what ‘helping’ entails. I can’t plan around promises.” The last sentence came out almost a wail.

You’re working yourself up over nothing. Celes glared down at the magicite and Siren sighed. When you start to sing, I’ll use my powers to enhance your voice and… nudge the audience into hearing what we want them to.

“Three minutes ‘til your cue, Miss Maria,” one of the stagehands whispered from the doorway. Celes felt her face go pale.

Keep me close, but out of sight. Siren soothed. I promise, they’ll be struck dumb with awe.

“Where? This dress has no pockets.” Celes patted her skirts and tugged her sleeves. Finally, she glanced down at the corset bodice and groaned.

Siren let out a wicked laugh. A good hiding place.

Feeling her cheeks heat, Celes tucked the magicite into the top of the corset until it was completely hidden. She swore she could feel it shift on its own as it settled in.

Mmmm. Very good. Siren all but purred in her head. Darling, you are wasted under those uniforms.

Cheeks still red, Celes turned to study the libretto one more time, when she heard the telltale scrape of leather boots.

“Just came to say ‘break a le—” Locke’s voice trailed off as she turned around. “Have you… always been that pretty?” It was obvious he spoke without thinking. With a blush that rivaled her own, he coughed and muttered, “That – um – that ribbon looks good on you…”

See? I told you, absolutely wasted, Siren crowed. And that heartbeat! It’s dancing a samba down here! Does our little Imperial return his admiration?

Celes let out a muffled squeak, though she couldn’t say if it was from Locke’s compliment or Siren’s commentary. Ducking her head, she whirled back to scan the libretto, words running through her head like water. A warm hand touched her shoulder.

“Checking the score again?” Locke gamely tried to keep his voice casual. “You’ll do great. I know it.”

Celes started to reply but the same stagehand poked his head in again. “Your cue’s coming up, Miss Maria. Time to get in position!”

Locke gave her an encouraging nod, face still flushed, and flashed her a double-thumbs-up. Celes let out a nervous chuckle and, with a shaky smile, headed to her mark.

Remember, just concentrate on getting the words right and let me do the rest, Siren whispered in her mind.

Celes nodded. The orchestra swelled, and she stepped out onto the balcony. Thankfully, the spotlight blinded her to the audience – she could almost pretend she was alone, singing for her own enjoyment. Taking a deep breath, she held out her arms.

“𝅘𝅥𝅮 Oh, my hero—𝅘𝅥𝅮”

The notes spun out over the stage, far smoother and stronger than they had any right to be. Celes felt the magicite in her bodice heat briefly. Unseen by anyone else, but felt by all, opalescent tendrils of magic wove their way through the audience, flaring and fading with each swell and fall of the melody.

Much of the tension left Celes’ shoulders as she continued to sing without incident – no boos or jeers, no discontented rustling, just rapt attention and delight. For the first time that night, she believed they might just pull this charade off.

She climbed to the highest of the tiered balconies and threw her bouquet to rousing applause as the orchestra below built to its final crescendo.

Brava, darling – that was quite the show, Siren murmured in her mind. Notice, they were awestruck, just as I promised. Smug satisfaction laced her tone.

Celes allowed herself a slight smile in return.

Now they just had to wait for the pretty-boy pilot to stage his kidnapping. Then the real show could begin.

Chapter Text

Caught up in a righteous fervor, Fenrir had charged through the Gate, ready to maul the humans who’d stolen his kinfolk and bring them home. He hadn’t expected his powers to flare with a ferocity that scorched through his veins and drove him near-feral.

When he came back to himself, he was on an endless plain, completely alone. Swiveling his ears, he couldn’t hear any of his brethren over the planet’s song, so much louder here than it was back home. It wasn’t unpleasant, but it did deafen him to the familiar songs of his kin.

He sneezed out a wet snort and dropped to his haunches, tail thwacking against the grassy earth. Cocking his head from side-to-side, he sorted through his options and finally decided his best bet would be to find the ocean and follow the coastline. Hopefully, that would prevent him from getting lost while he sniffed out his kinfolk.

Plan in mind, he stood, shook himself, and padded forward, following the scent of the sea. Periodically, he howled into the wind, but the only ones to answer him were lobos and wild dogs. Luckily, his size was such that a single snarl intimidated them into cowering and whining canine apologies before fleeing back the way they came.

Not all the creatures inhabiting this strange expanse were put off by his size. Thankfully, his fangs and claws were more than a match for most, and – for those rare beasts that outclassed even him – his particular talent for illusions provided ample distraction for him to put a comfortable distance between himself and the threat.

He’d made it all the way to the northeastern-most coast when the earth shrieked and shattered. Canyons cracked and spread and whole swaths of land fell into a foaming sea. Yipping and whining in alarm, Fenrir dodged falling rocks and leapt over snaking crevasses. He took shelter in a shuddering cave and curled tight around himself, waiting for the chaos to subside.

When he finally dared creep out of his shelter, he found himself in the middle of an unrecognizable wasteland. Gone was the sea of waving grasses, green overtaken by parched, lifeless brown. The planet’s song was muted now, listless and timid, a struggling fragment of what it had been. He flattened his ears, hackles rising. A new song had overtaken it. Pulsing with malignant glee, its oily notes covered everything in diseased malaise.

This time, when he howled, a faint voice answered him – neither animal nor Esper, but touched by both.

The feral child found him less than a week later. Sharp-eyed, with a matted mane and swathed in animal hides, the boy fearlessly looked him in the eye.

“Magic wolf,” he grunted. “Family gone.” Sorrow and certainty laced his tone. “Alone now. Like Gau.”

In that moment, Fenrir felt the punch of truth in his words, as if the boy had seen it with his own eyes. He sat hard and howled his lament to the sky. Gau threw back his head and mourned with him, burying a calloused little hand in his fur.

They mostly stayed together after that, bound by shared grief and loneliness as much as safety. The creatures who shared the plains with them had warped into monsters. No longer bound by natural laws, they were unpredictable and dangerous. In their midst stalked an ancient horror – one that Fenrir knew to avoid at all costs.

Months passed. Gau and Fenrir crisscrossed the broken continent, hunting, howling, and running together in a tiny pack of two. Fenrir often brushed his mind against Gau’s. No words were needed – the boy was more animal than human and understood him perfectly. They shared food during the day and curled together to sleep at night, with Fenrir offering his warmth to his furless cub.

Sometimes. Gau would disappear for days at a time, but he always returned, stronger than before with a smug, toothy smile and some new shiny thing to show off. Fenrir would sniff the treasure before whuffing his approval with a lolling, canine grin.

Overall, despite the desolation and tragedy surrounding them, it was a good existence. Fenrir could almost call himself content.

It wasn’t to last.

Along the southern coast, Fenrir basked in the warm sand. Some ways away, Gau poked spikey-shelled creatures with a stick. All was calm until a foul scent wafted towards them on a dry wind. Fenrir froze, hackles raising along his spine. A low growl rumbled up from his throat and he stood.

The Horror caught them.

A lumbering, bulbous silhouette appeared at the top of the bluff, standing between them and the sun.

Gau stiffened, catching the scent just moments after Fenrir.

It was too late.

Bellowing its hatred at them, the Horror charged. Bull’s horns lowered, taloned feet ripping furrows in the earth, tail lashing behind it, it careened onto the beach, malice-filled eyes locked on Gau.

The boy snarled his defiance and crouched, fingers curled into claws, ready to spring.

Fenrir slammed into his side, knocking him out of the Horror’s path. Its outstretched talons bit into his ribs. Twin points of pain flared as its horns gouged his shoulder and flank. With a jerk of its powerful shoulders, it flung him into the surf and waded in after him, smaller prey completely forgotten in its haze of bloodlust.

Fenrir howled his battle cry, releasing just enough of his power to disguise Gau.

Run, human-cub! He pushed the cumbersome, human words into Gau’s mind.

Then the Horror was upon him. He snapped his jaws around its scaled wrist, yanking it off-balance with a triumphant growl. It snarled in pain. So did Fenrir as acidic blood coated his snout. He jerked backwards, releasing it. It swung a taloned fist, gouging Fenrir’s eye and cutting into his already bloody muzzle.

Bleeding now from too many wounds, Fenrir felt his power begin to fade, and with it, his grip on his physical form. Gathering the last of his strength, he leapt onto the Horror’s shoulders and bit down, ignoring the pain as he worried the muscle to the bone.

The Horror bellowed and flailed, stumbling deeper into the ocean. Fenrir hung on with all his might, ignoring Gau’s panicked howls behind him. Forcing the Horror under the water, Fenrir felt the undertow grab them and sweep them out to sea.

He’d won. His cub was safe.

-●-

Gau approached the smoldering remains of the monster Terra-lady and her children called Humbaba. He sniffled, tears stinging his red-rimmed eyes and streaking his dust-coated cheeks.

This was the Horror that had stolen his wolf-friend from him, leaving Gau truly bereft for the first time in his mostly solitary life.

He angrily swiped the tears away and circled the corpse. Meat to be wasted. He planned to find its head in the carnage and piss on it. A final act of contempt for an evil creature.

A glint between flayed ribs caught his attention. Dropping to all fours, he side-winded closer, sniffing suspiciously. Beneath the choking smells of rot and corruption was the cold scent of magic. Gau plucked the shiny from the viscera and wiped the blood and bile away.

He recognized what it was. Mr. Thou and the others called these particular shinies ‘magicite’. He’d seen lots when he’d travelled with them before.

Human-cub?

Gau knew that voice.

“Whatcha got there, bud?” Mr. Thou made his way over, moving gingerly through the splattered monster remains.

Gau held his shiny close, baring his teeth in a reflexive snarl. “Mine!”

Mr. Thou held up placating hands and waited quietly. Gau took a few calming breaths. Climbing to his feet, he shuffled over to Mr. Thou and showed him the shiny, still cradling it close.

“Old friend.” He offered no other explanation than that. Mr. Thou nodded and clapped him on the shoulder.

His mind filled with happy snuffles and the distinct impression of a familiar canine grin. Gau smiled.

“Hello, Magic Wolf.”

Chapter Text

Sabin knew about unicorns long before he knew about Espers. Matron had read to him and Edgar from a giant, leatherbound tome of stories. Filled with pictures and legends, it told magnificent tales of mythical creatures and heroic swordsmen.

Edgar had loved the tales of grand adventure and romance, often roping Sabin into reenacting them later, with wooden swords and blankets for capes. Sabin’s favorite page had been a full-plate illustration of a pretty girl in a white dress with a unicorn resting its head in her lap. He’d happily study the peaceful scene for hours, holding his own stuffed unicorn close.

He never thought he’d get to see a real one.

Locke had taken a pretty solid hit from one of the giant bugs that swarmed across Vector’s surrounding plains. His eyes had glazed, his face had flushed and, with a crazed yell, he’d started attacking indiscriminately. Sabin had held the magicite aloft and called desperately for the Esper inside, feeling the promise of healing in his bones.

Immediately, the unicorn had appeared, rearing up on its hind legs and bathing Locke in blue light, soothing both his blistered skin and frantic mind.

Now, sitting cross-legged on a boulder in the wooded glade where they’d set up camp, Sabin stroked the unicorn’s velvet muzzle.

A little to the left, please.

He grinned and obliged, moving to scratch behind its ears. With a contented sigh, it rested its tufted chin on his knee and closed its eyes.

“It likes you.” Edgar smirked as he approached.

Sabin rolled his eyes good-naturedly, knowing exactly which part of their childhood folklore amused his twin so. “Don’t start…”

Shaking his head, he continued running his fingers through the unicorn’s golden mane, a smile twitching around his mouth. It was no secret that, of the two of them, Edgar had gotten all the sex drive.

The unicorn bristled when Edgar got too close, eyeing the blond king balefully. Light glinted along its spiral horn as it flattened its ears.

“Relax, killer,” Sabin laughed. “My brother’s a good man, even with his… extensive extracurriculars.”

It let out a grumpy snort, but settled back onto Sabin’s lap. Edgar reached out to pet it, only to jerk his hand back.

“It bit me!” Edgar looked offended as he shook out his wrist.

“That was just a warning nip,” Sabin cooed as he massaged the unicorn’s soft ears, grinning. “Finally found someone you can’t charm, eh, brother?”

Muttering about self-righteous horses and pain-in-the-ass little brothers, Edgar beat a stately retreat back to the campfire. Sabin laughed as he watched him go before leaning down to rest his cheek against the unicorn’s neck.

“He really is a good guy, you know. Play nice.”

The unicorn just whickered and nibbled on Sabin’s hair.

The unicorn soon proved itself the most opinionated of their Esper companions. While it had no objections to teaching its particular brand of healing magic to anyone, it only responded to summons from its favorites. Sabin, Terra, and the children were guaranteed a quick answer, while everyone else either had to call more than once – Locke refused to call it begging – or resign themselves to a long wait. Edgar and Setzer had given up calling the ornery equine altogether.

In the end, the unicorn took up a semi-permanent residence in Sabin’s pouch. For his part, Sabin had no objections to living out his favorite fairy tale, gleefully accepting the title of "Unicorn Whisperer".

Chapter Text

Cyan felt his eye twitch as the boisterous Esper guffawed in his mind, regaling him with endless tales of adventure across space and worlds and time itself. A self-proclaimed wandering hero, Gilgamesh had not stopped talking since his defeat in the Coliseum.

“Thou are a true knight errant, to be sure,” Cyan said dryly, if only to stem the tide of sound for just a moment.

Indeed! Tales of my courage and chivalry abound! There is no corner of the Rift that has not heard of Gilgamesh! You and your companions are fortunate that I sought you out and joined your quest!

“Yes.” There was that twitch again. “Very fortunate.”

Would that I hadn't had to sacrifice my physical form to better aid you. ‘Tis the truth, I’d delight in nothing more than sharing a pint of ale as we trade tales of our adventures!

“I am hardly thy drinking companion. I am a warrior and a knight. I must keep my mind clear for battle.”

One of my best friends was a human warrior! Gilgamesh exclaimed, uncowed by Cyan’s chilly tone. At least… I think we were friends…

“Were ye so often at odds, thou could not tell?”

The unquenchable Esper grew unexpectedly serious. This is not the first time I have faced down a warlock bent on returning us all to the Void. At least this time, I can say I saw the nihilistic monster for what it was and fought on the side of Light from the beginning.

Cyan felt a twinge of sympathy at the obvious self-recrimination in Gilgamesh’s tone. He understood being weighed down by the past. “Deceived?”

Desperate. And a willing participant in my own manipulation. Gilgamesh offered no excuses for past mistakes. Cyan got the distinct impression of the Esper rolling his shoulders back and lifting his chin. ‘Tis why I traversed the Rift instead of joining my kin in their haven. As penance for the worlds I helped destroy, I will aid in saving as many as I can ‘til the Triad deems me worthy of rest.

Cyan felt his sincerity, but also the sting of reluctant vulnerability. For an immortal being who had already seen thousands of years, this one was awfully… young.

The smallest smile softened the stern lines of his mouth. “I thought thou sought that legendary sword...”

Both! All the previous bravado and exuberance returned to Gilgamesh’s voice as he seized on the change in topic. What is a legendary hero without an equally legendary weapon?

And they were off again, down another rabbit hole of tall tales of derring-do in strange lands. Cyan shook his head. At least the eye twitch hadn’t returned.

-●-

It was a frenzied battle and Gilgamesh reveled in the call to fight as Cyan held his magicite aloft and loosed his soul.

Back bristling with weapons, he rolled his neck, reacclimating to this temporary physical body. Shedding cloak and breastplate with a flourish, he revealed his true, eight-armed form, flexing all his muscles menacingly as he drew his blades. He was especially excited to use the magnificent sword he’d gotten from the humans before he allowed them to defeat him.

Whirling and slicing his way through the monsters, he cleared a path for his newfound friends. Each stroke was sure, each strike true, until his final one.

His new sword bounced harmlessly off the final monster’s scaled hide. It clattered to the ground with a muffled thunk. Everyone froze for a moment before Cyan charged through the gap and cleaved the final monster in two.

Gilgamesh sighed as he faded back into his magicite.

“Alas. Another fake...”

Frowning, Cyan picked up the fallen sword and squinted at the runes cut into the ricasso.

“Whoso draweth this sword… has been duped by Excalipoor?” He blinked.

Excali-poor? Not Excali-bur? Gilgamesh sounded completely baffled. Has it said that every time?

Cyan’s nostrils flared and he ground his teeth. “In all thy years and all thy travels… art thou telling me thou hast never checked the inscription?”

The only reply was the surrounding crickets and Gilgamesh’s sheepish silence. Cyan sighed and tossed the useless sword away.

“Of course,” he muttered. “Now thy words fail thee.”

Chapter Text

Zona Seeker First Squadron, success.
Zona Seeker Second Squadron, complete.

Segwarides led Third Squadron in a fly-by over their quadrant of the castle, casting their magical shield over it. His own personal shield wavered as he focused his power on reinforcing the spell below – a known risk, but one they accounted for. His brothers would watch his back until he was able to draw his power back in. Then, he would do the same for them.

Fourth Squadron under fire! The alarm sounded over their mental link. Human mages broke the perimeter! They have a new spell that—! His brother’s voice cut off.

A cold emptiness began to spread from where his presence had been. Segwarides frowned, but kept working. Other cold spots formed in the link, spreading through the battle-meld as more and more voices just vanished.

Esper voices didn’t vanish when they turned to magicite. Even physical death couldn’t silence the Goddess’ Song that pulsed through his kind.

Segwarides felt a terrible foreboding trickle down his spine.

This was something worse than death. This was something new.

Behind him, one of his brothers cried out in pain, dropping from the sky, his voice abruptly cutting off. Another soon followed, and another – all going completely, ominously silent.

They had to finish their work. They had to flee. The warring instincts caused Segwarides to falter just enough for the mages below to land their shot.

Crippling pain lanced through his body as his armor splintered. Looking down, he saw several cross-like swords skewering his torso. Each one glowed with an eerie light that refracted out from within their crystalline depths.

Almost like magicite. Except the glow inside had nothing to do with preserving life.

Revulsion shuddered through him even as the cursed spikes did their deadly work. Numbness and nothingness quickly followed the pain, spreading from each embedded weapon. His body crumbled and flaked away on the wind, but – more horrifically – he felt his very soul begin to unravel.

They’ve harnessed the Void! He screamed over the crumbling mental link as he plummeted to the earth. Fly! This doesn’t just kill you, it unmakes you! With his final warning given, he released the last of his power in a rush, praying he could preserve himself in magicite before the mages’ spellwork destroyed him entirely.

-●-

Floating in his crystal cocoon, Segwarides slowly regained consciousness. He knew he had no physical eyelids in this form, but he blinked anyways. Stretching the memory of limbs, he hissed in pain and curled in on himself. Opening his eyes, he looked down at himself and choked back a scream.

His entire bottom half was gone, with only a trailing, naked spine remaining. He ran frantic hands over his head. At least his tightly coiled horns and angular face felt intact. He drew the tattered remnants of his cloak around himself with boney fingers. He startled and looked again. Where had his skin gone? Why couldn’t he bring to mind any form but this ruined one?

Even in death, the mages’ spell continued to unstitch him, piece by piece, memory by fading memory.

He squeezed his eyes shut and felt a tear trickle down his face.

“I am Segwarides, Knight of the Golden Face, Commander of the Third Zona Seeker Squadron.” He whispered hoarsely. “I protect the castle with my brothers.” His voice broke. “My eyes are green. I’ve soared through the clouds at Bahamut’s side. My brothers and I have blotted out the sun with our numbers. I chose this death over obliteration.” He drew a shuddering breath and started again. “I am Segwarides, Knight of the Golden Face…”

Alone in his painful haven, he repeated his mantra of identity, staving off oblivion through will and memory.

-●-

He’d lost track of how long it had been since he turned himself to magicite. He plucked listlessly at his bared ribs. Bone rubbed on bone with a disconcerting squeak.

Or it would’ve, if he could remember what that sounded like.

In this ephemeral realm, memory was everything.

“I am Segwarides, Knight of the Golden Face,” he muttered. “I had many brothers. We were called Zona Seekers.” Funny. He was pretty sure that list used to be longer. “We protected… we… protected…” He let out a gusty sigh when nothing came. “We protected,” he said firmly.

-●-

He couldn’t bare seeing his ravaged form today, so he kept his eyes shut.

It was easier to remember that way, anyways.

“I am Segwarides. I had a golden face. My brothers and I were Zone… Zona Seekers. We protected.”

-●-

“I am… I am…” He swallowed down the panic and screwed his eyes shut. He sucked in a gasping breath. “Segwarides!” He released it in a rush. “I am Segwarides. I was a Zone Seeker. We protect.”

-●-

Terra held the magicite close as she slipped out of the Auction House.

This time, when they’d seen the lot listing, Edgar and Celes had distracted Locke at one of the overpriced trinket shops. Once he’d gotten well and truly outraged at the prices and halfway through concocting a plan to rob the place, Edgar had winked at her and slipped her a pouch of gil to go bid on the precious stone without Locke grumbling in her ear the whole time.

This shard of magicite was cloudy in a way none of the others had been, and its inner light was closer to a banked coal than a flame. Concerned, Terra tentatively reached out with a soft greeting, only to pull back, eyes filling with tears, hand clapped over her mouth.

The mind inside was as fragmented and tattered as her own had been.

Sluggishly, the ember within the magicite flickered and twitched. Terra reached out again, steeling herself for the phantom pain and agony of loss that clung to this newest Esper.

Hello? Her greeting brushed against the edges of its mind, gently so as not to further harm the shattered psyche.

The reply was oddly toneless.

I am ZoneSeek. I protect.

Chapter Text

The Esper had initially introduced himself as Odin, guardian of this buried castle. His mental voice was rich and cultured, but had the oddest resonance – almost as if a bass and a baritone were speaking at the same time. When his statue crumbled away, Cyan had picked up the magicite left behind. He held the glowing stone close as they explored the rest of the ruins.

Winding stairs led down to a hidden room. Books lined the walls, tilting off rotted shelves and laying scattered across the stone floor. At the far end of the small room was a desk with a single, slim volume lying open on it.

Terra approached and gingerly lifted the book, mindful of the brittle pages. “A diary…?”

“I’d guess it belonged to the lady.” Edgar drew everyone’s attention to a lone statue in the corner. A slender woman in a flowing dress, hair up in a high ponytail, looked towards the stairs, face frozen in an expression of longing.

Your Majesty… Odin’s dual voice was desolated.

Rosa… A whisper so faint, Cyan almost thought he’d imagined it except for the agony piercing his heart – a twin to his own, yet completely separate. Compelled by that haunting grief, he brought the magicite closer to the statue.

Cecil? The woman’s voice was low and rich, filled with shock and sorrow in equal measure.

A single tear tracked down the statue’s face. The glittering droplet hung on the lady’s delicate chin for a moment before falling onto the magicite in Cyan’s outstretched hand.

The flame inside flashed with a brilliant, cold light, twining upwards and flaring out in petal-like tendrils. Everyone yelped and shaded their eyes. Cyan kept a firm grip on the stone even as he shook the sunspots from his vision.

A pale man with a shock of white hair materialized. Older, but obviously still in his prime, he exuded quiet strength and wisdom. Whisps of silver fire licked across his frame, floating between him and the magicite as he solidified. He stretched out his hand to the statue.

Slender, translucent fingers emerged to grasp his own and he gently tugged. An ephemeral woman stepped out of the statue as if alighting from a carriage. They stared at each other, oblivious to the others in the room. Reaching with both hands to cup his jaw, she studied his face.

“Oh, my love… what did you do?”

Cecil leaned into her phantom touch, eyes never leaving her face.

“What I had to in order to protect you and defend Baron.” Quiet conviction weighted his tone. “Odin had been struck down and I had been mortally wounded.” He covered her hands with his own, holding them tightly. “We were going to die separately, but together…” he pressed his forehead to hers “…together, we had a chance to survive and fulfill our oaths to the kingdom. So, we… fused. A new Odin to fight on.”

“But now you’ll never rest,” Rosa’s voice broke with sorrow.

“But you will. Safe and whole, with your soul unscarred.” Cecil drew back to press a kiss to her forehead. “That’s all that matters. That’s all that ever mattered.”

The lovers held each other for a while longer, murmuring confessions and reassurances, promises and regrets until Rosa began to fade. Cecil clung to her hands until she disappeared fully into the ether. He bowed his head, shoulders slumped in mourning. Cyan began to reach out to him, but he straightened abruptly and turned to face them.

His form blurred, a horned onyx helmet obscuring his face. Spiked onyx pauldrons spread over his shoulders, while a silver breastplate and greaves knit themselves together across his body. With a sharp whistle, he summoned a war charger and climbed into the saddle. His dark cape fluttered in a phantom wind as he drew a wicked looking sword and looked down at them.

“The evil that plagued my time has returned in yours, I take it?” His baritone, no longer dual-toned, was muffled by the helmet.

“Indeed, Sir Cecil, but—”

He cut Cyan off. “Cecil was Rosa’s name alone. We will use one of the other epithets given to me when I became king of Baron.” He paused in thought. “You may call me Raiden.”

Cyan nodded. “The Lawbringer, king of knights errant and a formidable warrior. Your legend has endured.”

Raiden inclined his head in acknowledgement and faded into his magicite.

Call on me when you have need.

From then on, he fought at their side, forging a bond with Cyan through their shared grief and lost love. An implacable opponent, Raiden cleaved through foes and monstrosities with a ruthless despair untempered by mercy, but also untainted by hatred. Having purged his darkness when he was still a man, he had no room for the corruption that infected the creatures Kefka had bent to his will.

When they broke into Kefka’s Tower, Raiden was the first they called. As Cyan watched him break enemy lines and crush foes underfoot, he felt a flicker of hope. Even the would-be God of Magic couldn’t turn this Warrior of Light. In the face of such righteous conviction, he finally believed they had a chance.

Chapter Text

They’d brought her to a mage stronghold.

The humans might’ve thought Thamasa was just an isolated little village inhabited by quirky people, but Shiva knew better.

She shuddered with revulsion – even the hard shell of magicite wasn’t thick enough to buffer her soul against that brand of magic that she knew so well. She’d felt its hateful touch more times than she could count in battles long forgotten.

She grudgingly acknowledged that it felt different now – softer and more harmonious, more thoroughly woven into this village and its inhabitants than it had been for the mages of old. Honestly, it almost felt like home.

But a mage was a mage.

Too many years of war, too many battles, and too many of her kin lost while she lived had taught her that.

She bared her teeth in a snarl no one could see and hoped the humans wouldn’t linger in this town.

-●-

Her humans – her noble, ever-helpful, stupid humans – handed her off to the mage called Strago before charging into the burning house to rescue his granddaughter. Hardly taller than the missing child, with a wild mane of white hair that was shaved at the sides, the old man radiated a harmless eccentricity earned by age.

If it weren’t for the magic of monsters crawling beneath his skin, she might’ve fallen for the façade.

As his wrinkled fingers closed around her magicite, she sent a wave of icy thorns rippling in warning across its surface. He jumped, but didn’t release his grip. Shiva dropped the temperature enough to make his skin stick and peel if he held on too long.

“Is that how you want to play this, Esper? Yes, I know what you are, and you know what I am.” He raised one bushy eyebrow. “So, where does that leave us, eh?”

I said I’d die before handing my powers to one of the Magi!

“Seems like you already did that, yet here we are.”

The magicite grew so cold it burned, turning Strago’s palm white. His fingertips edged towards blue.

Put. Me. Down.

“No.” He lifted the frost-coated stone to his face and stared into its depths. All traces of dry wit and grandfatherly amusement disappeared, replaced by stone-cold determination. “I need your power to save my Relm. And I’ll gladly lose a hand to frostbite if that’s what it takes to wield it.”

Taken aback by his conviction, Shiva hesitated. Finally, she let the frost dissipate.

Fine. Save your granddaughter. Then release me… or I won’t hesitate to take that hand you offered up.

Strago nodded once and ran into the burning house.

The fire spread with unnatural malice, consuming the wooden walls the way a starving man would fall upon a banquet. The reason became apparent soon enough when they found the Flame Eater at the center of it all. Battened on the fear and despair of the trapped child and the terror of the villagers outside, the monster threw itself at them without fear, fully intent on burning blood and bone to ash.

And it had the power to back up its bravado. One by one, the humans succumbed to its flame and smoke.

Kneeling on the floor, coughing and weak, Strago pulled out Shiva’s magicite with a trembling fist as the monster advanced.

“Please,” he croaked, “please save my granddaughter.”

A heartfelt plea, born from depths of love and despair that Shiva knew all too well. She sighed.

Alright, Mage.

Bursting forth in a shower of frozen shrapnel, Shiva summoned a blizzard with all the wrath she had inside her. Wind and sleet and snow swirled together, coating the walls and dousing the flames. Spikes of ice ricocheted through the room, slicing through the Flame Eater and its minions.

In the face of such implacable fury, the monster soon dwindled, snuffed to a meager lump of coal at Strago’s feet.

“Thank you,” he whispered, succumbing to unconsciousness.

Shiva studied his still form – frail and utterly human in a way the phantoms of her past never were – until a shadowy figure dropped through the smoldering roof.

-●-

Out of gratitude for rescuing his granddaughter, Strago agreed to help her humans find the missing Espers.

Just a few days ago, Shiva would’ve considered leading a mage – even one many generations removed from the War – to her kin the ultimate act of betrayal – unthinkable and unforgiveable.

But, as her humans handed her over to him again, she felt none of the soul-roiling rage and doubt that she had before.

Strago glanced down to where her magicite glinted in his satchel.

“Seems we’re stuck together awhile longer, eh, Esper?” His eyes twinkled as he fought to hide a smile.

“It would seem so… Mage.” Shiva knew he couldn’t see her, so she allowed herself a small smile in return. Perhaps it would be a stretch to call it ‘fond’, but it was still more than she ever dreamed she’d give a mage.

Maybe her humans weren’t naïve and there actually was hope for lasting peace between their peoples.

For the first time, Shiva found herself willing to find out.

Chapter Text

The Project was nearly complete.

Soon, his people would have a Guardian to cow even the most powerful Phantom Beast.

Wrexol slotted another crystal into place. As the mage in charge of the Air Node, it fell on him to ensure everything was performing as it should. His was one of the four Physical Elements that made up the outer layer of the city-wide magic circle. In their respective nodes of Water, Earth, and Fire, his colleagues were undoubtedly performing the same final checks as he was.

At this point, they couldn’t afford for anything to go wrong. It had taken countless missions, raids, and battles to gather the quantity of benighted Phantom Beasts needed to generate enough magic to ensure the success of this undertaking. He would not let carelessness on his part render that work pointless.

As he inserted the final crystal into the central obelisk, the machine within the converted cathedral began to hum with the crystals’ joint power, shining cogs whirling to life. Moving back to a safe distance, Wrexol nodded in relief.

So far, so good.

The crystallized remains of the Phantom Beasts glinted and flared as the machinery around them spun faster. Wrexol smirked. In their inert forms, they were really quite useful.

“All is well?” A dry rasp from behind almost made him jump.

Stifling his reaction, he turned smoothly to face the hooded figure. “It is, Dark One.” No one knew the Dark One’s name. Wrexol thought it was all rather pretentious. “Shouldn’t you be overseeing your part of the inner circle?”

While he and his colleagues were in charge of the elements that would build their guardian creature’s physical form, the Dark One was one of the four mages in charge of the more intangible elements that would create its soul. He controlled the Shadow element alongside the other mages’ Spirit, Holy, and Will.

“I am.” The shadow mage sneered. “This is merely a phantom presence.”

Wrexol nodded in acknowledgement, refusing to react to the other mage’s contempt.

“When this is done,” the Dark One said, “we’ll finally have the means to crush Odin and his castle of human traitors for good.” The phantom’s eyes gleamed under his cowl. “We’ll raze their stronghold to the ground.”

Wrexol was spared having to reply by the city itself groaning and shifting beneath his feet. Wobbling to keep his balance, he watched in wonder as a beam of golden light shot upwards from his node. All around the city, other beams of light appeared – green, red, and blue surrounding icy white, purple, silver, and platinum.

In the very center of the circles, the city heaved under the transformative strength of the amassed power. Streets and buildings rose, twisting as they went and reforming into mighty armlike columns. More structures rippled and contorted into oversized pauldrons that could serve as landing platforms for airships. Masonry and walls became an impenetrable torso, while spires and towers rose out of it’s back in jagged spikes. The great marble terraces settled into a structure that appeared to be the new Guardian’s head.

The living edifice towered over the remains of the city, blotting out the sun.

Wrexol blinked, mouth opening and closing soundlessly as an impossibly deep voice pounded through his head. Beside him, the Dark One’s phantom flickered and twitched before disappearing entirely.

Prostrate yourselves in reverence. Silence yourselves in awe. I am Alexander, the Iron Colossus, the Divine Bulwark. I burn away evil to shelter the innocent.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. The Guardian wasn’t supposed to have any identity or purpose beyond what they gave it.

The blood of those who made me scream for vengeance. The souls of the innocent cry out for justice.

Wrexol screamed under the overwhelming pressure of the Guardian’s sweeping attention. A single thought shredded through his mind.

You are not innocent.

-●-

He came to in a pile of rubble.

The fledgling Guardian’s wrath had been unlike anything any of them had seen. Releasing howling sheets of light, it had razed the mages’ machines to dust, obliterating their circles and leveling what was left of the city.

Something had happened – somehow the remaining mages had managed to reverse the flow of magic, siphoning Alexander’s power until it folded in on itself, diminishing into a calcified cocoon. Wrexol had been the one to wade into the maelstrom to grab its crystallized remains. Whirling white lights had ripped and torn at his skin as he pushed through. When he'd finally reached the hunk of rock, it had been searing hot to the touch. He’d wrapped his outer robes around it and pressed it to his chest, hoping to buffer his flesh, but the cursed stone burned through meat and bone, burrowing down to Wrexol’s core.

He looked down. Beneath the charred fabric, the space behind his ribs glowed still.

Whispers filled his ears and he became conscious of other minds clinging to the edge of his own, weaving together into a writhing tangle. He couldn’t feel the Dark One’s presence in there. The coward had probably fled as soon as Alexander began to run amok.

Some of his colleagues stood out to him, but most were nameless, faceless – terrified citizens who hadn’t escaped the Guardian’s path of destruction.

He blinked. What was he now but a mass of tattered souls inside a broken shell.

Wrexsoul the wrecked soul – the name floated out of the whispers. He chuckled. One of the souls that had stitched itself to his must’ve had a sense of humor. A fitting new name for whatever he’d – they’d – become.

As he stood there, gathering his bearings, new crystal heart throbbing in his chest, he felt some of his weaker souls wither away. The emptiness they left behind clawed at him, giving birth to a feral need to refill it.

He sighed. Staying on the physical plane was draining. Perhaps he’d try his luck in the intangible realm of dreams and spirits. Who knew what waited for him there.

As he faded, a single thought took shape.

He was hungry.

-●-

When the demon was destroyed and they all returned to the waking world, Sabin and Celes went with Cyan to finally give his family’s remains the burial they deserved. Edgar lingered in the throne room, unable to shake the feeling they were still being watched.

D-don’t forg-get m-my bro-brother, Golem chugged in the back of his mind.

“Hm?” Edgar turned back towards the dais.

A chunk of magicite glinted on the throne, winking up from the crumbling velvet seat. Cautious as always, Edgar stretched out his mind to the Esper within. He was fully unprepared for the mind that reached back.

I am both light eternal and the deep sin of the darkness. Kings and cities tremble before my judgement. The cavernous voice rumbled with arrogance and power. It paused and Edgar felt the weight of its scrutiny. I see you have befriended my older brother. He would not trust someone unworthy. I too will entrust my power to your care.

With the feeling he’d just passed some unknowable test, he blew out a breath as his knees trembled. Whatever lived in this newest piece of magicite was more than an Esper. Edgar did not want to think about what could’ve been unleashed if it decided they were foes instead of friends.

I t-told y-you he was im-p-pres-s-s-sive. Golem’s pride in his brother suffused every jerky syllable.

“Beyond impressive,” he murmured as he gingerly picked the magicite up from the throne.

He wasn’t sure which of his friends had the fortitude to summon this Esper, but he wasn’t ashamed to admit it wasn’t him – maybe Celes, with her unbendable sense of justice. Whoever drew the short straw, he couldn’t wait to see Kefka’s face when they unleashed this particular entity.

Chapter Text

Lakshmi couldn’t remember why or when she’d surrendered her physical form. Kingdoms had risen and fallen since then, most of their own accord, though she’d take credit for a couple of them.

Her talents had always been better suited to the dream realm anyways. Twining her influence around impressionable human minds, what they saw of her depended entirely on their own character.

Take this latest mortal. Enamored from an encounter with one of her youngest sisters, he acquired her magicite with rarely-seen avarice.

Stupid man couldn’t even tell them apart.

Now she sat on a shelf in his private study, to be admired or ignored at his whim. That was fine. This house was his domain. She wasn’t arrogant enough to believe she called the shots here.

The realm of dreams was another matter. It was impossible for him to ignore her there.

The first dream revealed her in all her glory – glossy chestnut hair, perfect skin draped in sumptuous fabrics, just enough of her curves exposed to inspire even more vivid dreams of a different nature. Her halo glinted as she smiled benevolently down at him from where she reclined on her silk-draped pedestal.

The next day, the mortal spent far more time gazing at her magicite, humming his satisfaction at the acquisition as he enjoyed a luncheon that could comfortably feed a family.

“Best purchase I ever made at the Auction House,” he mumbled around a mouthful of cake. “Crowning jewel of my collection.”

The stone shimmered as if in agreement.

-●-

Lakshmi visited the mortal’s dreams every night, flirting, cajoling, and teasing by turns. Owzer responded predictably, growing more enamored of the beautiful Esper with each encounter. He spent more and more time during the day caressing and polishing her magicite.

Finally, his craving for her reached the point that he commissioned a portrait of her. He needed to see her during his waking hours as well as his dreams. Artist after artist presented their portfolios, only to be rejected as inadequate hacks.

“Only the best for my goddess.” He ran a sausage-like finger over the magicite’s gleaming facets, nodding decisively.

From within, Lakshmi sighed.

In all the nights she’d visited him, he’d never shown any interest in her except as an object. He complimented her beauty, boasted about his wealth, and begged for the honor of bestowing trinkets and favors upon her, but he’d failed to ask a single question beyond her name. And, for all he’d asked, he didn’t actually use it, preferring to bury her under his own epithets and pet names.

Her magicite held pride of place in his study, resting on a velvet cushion under a glass case, pulled out and polished daily, but Owzer hid her from the world, growing more covetous by the day. Like an indolent dragon amidst his hoard, his obsession spiraled out of control. He neglected the rest of his art collection. His only contact with the outside world was the artists he berated. Each day ended much the same, with him sprawled out on his mound of cushions, surrounded by empty platters, magicite clutched in his meaty fist.

Lakshmi knew what was coming and it brought her no satisfaction, even if he had invited it.

When she first descended from her pedestal, Owzer had been aquiver with rapture. She ran a gentle finger down his jowled cheek and looked at him with pity.

“It’s almost too late, Owzer,” she warned, willing him to understand.

“Too late for what, my treasure?” He gazed up at her, oblivious.

“For what is to come.” She frowned. “Ask me something, anything. Look beyond yourself. See me!”

“You’re divine,” he sighed dreamily. “Beautiful beyond compare. My collection is worthless junk compared to you.”

Laksmi closed her eyes. Her hand stayed on his cheek. He never noticed the claws pricking his skin.

-●-

The little girl painter was the first artist to impress Owzer enough to stay. She introduced herself as Relm. Owzer didn’t bother to remember and referred to her as ‘girl’ for his own ease. Relm merely rolled her eyes and started calling him ‘old man’ in return.

From inside her magicite, Laksmi grinned. She liked this girl’s spirit. Perhaps there was hope yet.

At first, Owzer only acknowledged the painter girl to wax poetic on the subject of his goddess’s beauty. Relm didn’t mind and filled her sketchbook with renderings of his excessive praise. Once they’d found a pose he liked, she got to work, covering the wall-sized canvas with charcoal underdrawings and paint swatches as she worked out her palette.

She smirked and chattered as she worked, oblivious to the magnitude of her talent. Her innocent irreverence pulled Owzer from his avaricious reveries more and more often. Soon he looked on her with an almost paternal fondness. But even then, he never asked her about her family, how she came to love painting so, or where she came from before the world rearranged itself. Whatever affection he held for her, it stayed confined to the realm of a proud patron and his pet artist.

Lakshmi’s shoulders drooped.

That night’s dream started as it usually did, with her alighting from her pedestal and moving towards Owzer. This time, his eyes widened in alarm rather than adoration.

“My goddess! What’s happening to you?”

“Have you only just noticed?”

Lakshmi’s appearance had been shifting for weeks now – streaks of silver in her hair and pale, peeling skin. Her soft eyes had been sharpening to an unholy emerald. Manicured fingernails had lengthened to wicked, blackened talons.

Now, as she stalked forward, her silks billowed and tangled on a phantom wind, color leeching out of the sheer fabric. She bared her teeth in a malevolent smile – the last expression Owzer would see from her before she was engulfed in a tattered burial shroud.

She reached a clawed hand towards him. “Do you see me now?”

“My treasure!” He had the gall to sound affronted.

“That’s not my name!” Her shout was dual-toned, an eldritch rumble overtaking her usually mellow voice.

“Lakshmi! I – I don’t know what you want!”

“No. The time for that name has passed.” She drew up to her full height, towering over this quivering mortal as the dream darkened and filled with glowing green smoke. “I am Chadarnook. And we’re going to be seeing a lot of one another.”

-●-

With her masterpiece-in-progress no longer haunted and the magicite removed from Owzer’s possession, Relm skipped merrily down the cobbled avenue that led from Owzer’s front door. Without the specter of an angry goddess wreaking havoc, the mansion was really quite picturesque. When she returned to finish the commissioned painting, she might stick around to do a few sketches for her own enjoyment.

In the meantime, Owzer’s Esper had introduced herself as Lakshmi and very strongly hinted that it was best for everyone if Relm held on to her. Seraph filled their minds with her wholehearted agreement.

My older sister struggles with the darkness that plagues a lot of adult hearts. The innocence of children brings out her better nature.

“Innocent, hmph!” Relm snorted. She’d nearly been burned alive, watched a massacre take place in her hometown, lost her family, and survived the apocalypse. She didn’t think she could claim any sort of ‘innocence’ anymore.

You cannot claim naïveté, Lakshmi said in her mind. But you are still innocent. Your love for your art is untainted by greed or arrogance, and completely eclipsed by your love for your grandfather and your loyalty to your friends. You’ve seen great evil, yes, but it has not twisted you into its image. Relm flushed at the praise as Lakshmi continued. In this world, innocence is not an insult, but strength of character.

Relm scuffed the ground with her shoe and adjusted her satchel. At her mumbled ‘thank you’, Lakshmi let out a peal of laughter.

Oh yes, we’ll get on well together.

Chapter Text

In the dank and dripping cave, illuminated by a single shaft of sunlight, the Crusader knelt against his will. Golden armor scuffed, tabard shredded, his arms were twisted behind his back, shoulders forced forward. He craned his neck to look around.

Espers from all sides of the Triad’s conflict stood around him, uneasy in their alliance against him. He scoffed. These creatures may have absorbed some part of the Triad’s spark, but their creation had been accidental at best. He was the only one the goddesses had created on purpose, had willingly gifted a fragment of their power to. He was their Holy General. These useful mutations were pitiful compared to him.

It took three of their strongest to pin him in place.

A single Esper broke away from the crowd and approached him.

“Fiend’s General,” he began, “naught but a rabid dog, who cannot tell friend from foe. At last your reckoning has come.” The statement would’ve held more weight if his voice hadn’t been shaking.

“What can you hope to do to me? Even when you stand in victory over me, you are terrified.”

The Esper swallowed and drew himself up. “Your dragons are conquered and the Triad has forsaken you, too lost in their own combat to notice your plight.” He extended his hand. Another Esper stepped out of the shadows and gave him a set of shackles.

The Crusader only sneered as they locked his wrists in place.

Until he felt it. His armor should’ve protected him, but cold leeched into his very bones, spreading out from the shackles. He’d only ever felt that particular chill on the corpses he left in his wake.

And now it had him in its grip.

He glared wild-eyed at the Espers’ leader. “What have you done?”

“By the power of your eight dragons, we bind you,” the Esper intoned, “in shackles forged in Fire and tempered in Ice, scorched by Lightning and doused in Water. We call on the Wind to announce your defeat far and wide, on the Earth to bury you while Poison holds you in place for Holy wrath to judge your crimes.”

Even as the lowly creature spoke, the Crusader felt his strength ebb. Roaring and thrashing, he tried to resist, but his efforts had begun far too late.

After a few minutes, he was reduced to crystal.

The Espers’ leader picked it up and listened. Nodding decisively, he placed the stone in an iron box and set it into a crevice deep in the cave’s wall.

“The Fiend’s General yet lives, but the shackles are doing their work.”

“Will they hold?” one of the other Espers asked, glancing fearfully at the box’s resting place.

“As long as the dragons rest undisturbed, they will,” replied the leader. “Their magic powers the binding. Should that magic ever be severed, the seal will fail. If the Eight should fall, the One will rise.”

All around him, the other Espers shuddered.

“Goddess help any fools that free him.”

Chapter Text

The power of rebirth was not dissimilar to the power of creation.

The Fiend’s General had bragged that he was the only Esper the Triad had created on purpose – and that had been true for a time. But once they’d seen the destruction they’d wrought, felt the death and despair that was their legacy, they’d created her with just as much care as her arrogant older brother.

Phoenix had been tasked with renewing the scarred and tattered planet so the surviving humans could thrive and the newly-created Espers could find their footing outside of war and conflict.

It was a task that suited her well and she relished its fulfillment. Flying over parched fields, trailing healing sparks with each flap of her fiery wings, she slowly brought the earth back to life, burning away the poisons that clogged the air and turned the soil barren.

She circled the planet many times, ensuring not a single patch of land or stretch of sea went uncared for. And when the last of her power was spent, she folded her wings around herself and let herself burn away. Her brothers and sister plucked her egg from her ashes. Building her a nest in one of their villages, they tucked her safely away until she was needed again.

-●-

The Mage Wars were brutal, ugly and hate-filled in a way the Goddess War hadn’t been.

Phoenix cringed away from the destruction this time. The planet itself remained largely unharmed, but the rising toll of Esper and human lives broke her heart beyond repair.

Still, when her kinfolk begged her to come back, she willed herself to hatch, bursting forth in cascading flames and dancing sparks. She got to work immediately, healing the wounded wherever she could. Human, Mage, and Esper all let her pass unharmed until their hatred drowned out even that capacity for compassion.

It was a mage who took her down in a net designed to douse her fire and freeze her beating heart. Just as ruthless and relentless as her older brother had ever been, this mage ignored her cries and shrieks, ignored her pleas, and continued with his awful task with a single-minded intensity.

With none of her kin nearby to save her, and no options for escape, Phoenix took the only course of action left to her.

She died.

She’d died before, but that death had been part of the grand cycle of renewal and restoration. This one was a cold, desolate thing. There were no brothers and sisters to put her in her nest, no smiling faces whispering thanks and comfort – just a single, hateful man with a stone where his heart had once been.

Even she could not revive a dead heart.

-●-

After centuries of isolation, a new human found her in the long-forgotten mage stronghold where she’d been abandoned. Her egg had cracked and lusterless from lack of care. Her powers begged to be used, but without a purpose, they began to wither, burning down like the last bit of wick in a guttering candle.

At the sight of another person, her flame leapt, hope flaring to life. It quickly smothered as she took in the look on this human’s face and the gnawing greed in his soul. Flat, black eyes glittered under thick eyebrows and his mustache twitched upwards as the lips underneath smiled coldly.

“At last, I found it – the legendary Phoenix Stone. With this in my possession, death has no hold on me.” His smile turned cruel, sharpened by ruthless ambition. “I’ll rule forever.”

Phoenix shrank back in horror, banking her fire and letting her egg dim. The human’s jaw ticked, but he carried her outside anyways. Placing her in a velvet-lined case, he gave orders for her to be taken to “the hidden treasury”. Wherever that was, she hoped it would keep her out of his reach.

This was not a man she would willingly help cheat death.

In the end, she found herself in a cave, surrounded by other treasures and trinkets. The men who took her there didn’t linger. Putting her on the designated pedestal, they hurried out, closing the door behind them. It ground shut with a shuddering boom. With nothing else to do, Phoenix settled in to wait.

In the silence, her flame sputtered to life, a lone flicker of light in the dark.

Chapter Text

The burst of Magefire hit Sleipnir squarely in the chest. The mighty horse stumbled mid-gallop, throwing his rider over his head as he crumbled to dust. Odin hit one of the stone barricades with a disheartening crack. Wheezing and coughing, he made no attempt to sit up. The numb chill beneath his waist told him it would be a futile endeavor.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’d been dealt a defeat that ended in his death, nor even the first time he’d died with regrets, but that didn’t make it any easier to face. He’d grown especially attached to this particular castle, first as its Guardian and king, and then as its Esper general.

A silver-gloved hand hauled him further behind the barricade and eased his horned helmet off. His savior collapsed backward with a strained grunt and Odin found himself staring at Baron’s king, spattered with blood and streaked with dirt and sweat. His ward in a previous life, he’d started Cecil down a dark path, much to his eternal shame, but the young man had the strength of character to pursue something better all on his own. Now he was the best king Baron had seen in generations.

Odin took a rattling breath to tell him so, but Cecil beat him to speaking.

“It’s a grave injury. We have to get you to the healers.” He winced and clenched his teeth. “Just give me a moment to—”  

“I am wounded past healing.” Odin cut him off with surprising gentleness. “My kind have a way of surviving death, but I am beyond even that.”

“What would you have me do, my liege?”

“You are the liege now, Cecil. I have not been your king for many years.”

From where he slumped beside the dying Esper, Cecil groaned and pressed against the wound in his side. Blood seeped through his fingers, dripping relentlessly to the packed earth below. “Apologies. Old habits… General.”

Odin nodded. “Better.” He coughed again, blood splashing over his chin. “I think you will soon follow me.” Cecil acknowledged his grim prognosis with closed eyes and a sigh. “I will offer you the same deal the guardian of Baron Castle offered me when Cagnazzo slaughtered us so many years ago.” Racking shudders overtook him for a moment. Clenching his fists, he willed himself to extend his gauntleted hand. “Take on my mantel of power and we may both live on. Your physical strength and warrior’s spirit will house my magic, and in turn, my magic will sustain your life.”

Cecil’s already fair complexion had grown steadily paler, now almost grey. Sweat dotted his forehead. “What… of Rosa?”

There was no way to explain the melding of minds and souls that would occur, so Odin gave the reassurance Cecil was asking for. “We will exist as one being – as the Guardian, Odin – and so protect her and everyone else in the castle.”

“She will live.” Cecil blinked away a single tear as he looked skyward. “And she will have Kain to comfort her…” Taking a deep, shaky breath, he locked his silver eyes onto Odin and held out his bloodstained hand. “Do it.”

As soon as their hands touched, a brilliant light flooded the battlefield, blinding enemy and ally alike. Gold and silver glows intertwined and merged, becoming a platinum aurora.

The barricade shattered outward in a hail of wooden shards and stone. Mounted once again on Sleipnir, the new Odin towered over his opponents. Face fully obscured by his horned helmet, he brandished his nocked blade high and let out a battle roar.

“For Baron!” Odin’s bellow shook the castle ramparts. Scattered across the battlefield, Baron’s ragged soldiers echoed the cry and rallied to their Guardian-king.

For Rosa. The whisper stayed locked inside his mind, his alone – hidden remnants of his human heart.

Surging forward, he cleaved enemies in two as if they were made of paper. Mage and monster alike fell to his thirsty blade, clearing a path for his men. When he reached the ridge that separated the castle from the outer plains, he drew up short.

Green grass would sprout with a vengeance when this was all over, but now the field was a barren slush of gore and mud, studded with corpses. Broken weapons jutted out of the ground like jagged headstones and pockets of magic colored the battlefield in unnatural hues.

In the distance, a dark-robed figure snarled and lifted his hands high, malevolent magic pulsing towards the sky.

Odin charged.

Chapter Text

When he’d woken and found the guest bed neatly made and empty, Maduin’s heart dropped into his stomach. Humans weren’t precisely welcome in the Esper world, and now his was wandering around without him.

Abandoning any thought of breakfast, he rushed through dressing and barreled outside. A small cluster of his kinfolk were loitering in a small park across the lane. Looking around, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, he jogged over.

“Have you seen Madeline?” he asked by way of greeting. “She would’ve passed by when she left.”

“Who?” The three Magus Sisters looked up, lips curled in identical sneers. Beside them, Sylvie looked at the ground, embarrassed.

Maduin gritted his teeth. “My guest.”

“Oh. That. Why so worried?” The tallest sister looked down her nose at him. “Have you become a human-lover so quickly then?” She flicked her wrist dismissively. “Honestly, your pet will probably find her way home when she’s ready. No need to chase her hither and yon.”

“Sandy,” Sylvie’s quiet voice was surprisingly firm, “that’s needlessly unkind.” The blonde sylph turned her large, limpid eyes on Maduin. “She went towards the Gate. You’ll have to run to catch her. She seemed determined to leave quickly.”

Maduin nodded his thanks and hurried in the direction Sylvie had indicated. As he left, her voice rippled through his mind.

I hope you find her. Her concern was sincere. Our three sisters are too young to remember when we were friends with humans, but some of us do. Yours seems to have a good heart.

Maduin grunted and picked up his pace. If Madeline had enough of a head start, she’d get through the Gate long before he got there. He started to run. Luckily, as one of the gatekeepers, he had ways of getting there quickly. Grasping the pendant that tied him to the Gate, he summoned its power and let space compress in front of him. Hurtling through the wrinkle, he kept running, forming fold after fold to cut the distance.

He reached the cavern that housed the Gate just as Madeline disappeared inside. Sprinting after her, he called her name.

“Maddie! Maddie, wait!” She’d reached the Gate and was about to step through. “Madeline! Stop!” Maduin doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping for air. “Goddess in stone, Maddie – will you wait?”

She stopped and turned. Even from the distance, Maduin could see the tears in her eyes. She shook her head. “I was foolish to cross over in the first place. You know there’s no place for a human here.”

Still panting from the pursuit, Maduin straightened. “With me.” It came out more harshly than he’d intended. He coughed and tried again, gently this time. “That place is with me.”

Madeline was already shaking her head. “You’re just feeling protective. You’ve got this impulse to keep everyone around you safe, but that doesn’t mean you—” She let out a trembling breath. “Not wanting to see me hurt doesn’t mean you… care about me.” Sadness coated her voice.

“Didn’t realize humans could read minds now.” Maduin crossed his arms. “Or maybe they’ve become empaths in the centuries since we fled?”

Madeline rolled her eyes and huffed. “Mads, don’t be stupid…”

He almost grinned, relieved to see her usual spark beneath the tears. He swallowed back the smile and shrugged nonchalantly instead.

“Well, you’re so confident about what I’m thinking and feeling, I figured you had an in.” He took a step towards her. “But, fact of the matter is, you don’t. So don’t tell me what I’m feeling.” Another step. He was thankful she wasn’t retreating. “How about you let me tell you instead?”

“It doesn’t matter!” Her voice rose, almost frantically. “Our kinds have proven again and again they can’t live together! Your friends and family hate me – how long before you resent me for separating you from them? What happens when I grow old and you’re still—?” She gestured at his bare chest and muscled torso. He smirked despite the tension and continued moving forward. “Or when you want children and I can’t give them to you?” Her voice broke and her tears finally began to fall. “Don’t you see? There is no way we can build a life together. It’s hopeless.”

The tears broke him and Maduin abandoned all pretense of caution. Closing the distance between them in a few strides, he tucked her hair behind her ear, hand lingering on her cheek. Mindful of his claws, he wiped a tear away with the pad of his thumb.

“You’re so certain?” She nodded, but leaned into his touch all the same. “You might be right – there are obstacles to be sure. It will be hard. But hopeless? I don’t believe in hopeless.” He pressed his forehead to hers, slotting her between his horns. “How can we know unless we try for ourselves?” His voice went whisper-soft. “Will you try with me, Maddie?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she turned her head and kissed his palm. Eyes closed, she nodded. Grinning, Maduin turned her face back to his and captured her mouth with his own.

Later, with her as naked as he was and both of them panting for entirely more enjoyable reasons, Maduin curled around her and carded his claws through her hair, setting the tangles to rights. Madeline smiled up at him.

“You know you can’t make your friends like me, right?” She yawned contentedly and snuggled closer.

Maduin pressed a kiss to her head. “I won’t have to. You’ll do that all on your own.”

-●-

Many months later, Maduin paced through their home, claws raking through his mane. Behind him, Seraph struggled to contain her smile as she sat at Madeline’s bedside. One hand, aglow with healing magic, hovered over Maddie’s belly while she blotted her friend’s forehead with the other.

“Mads,” Madeline sighed between contractions, “stop fretting and come over here. Everything will be fine.”

“You don’t know that!” He tugged at his horns, golden eyes flaring wide. “Triad above – what if the baby has horns? Or claws?” He turned back to his laboring mate. “You aren’t built for horns or claws!”

“Which is why I’m here,” soothed Seraph, losing her battle against the smile. “And I can tell you, everything will be fine.”

Maduin stomped to Madeline’s side and knelt over her. Not content with just squeezing his hand, she nestled into his shoulder, turning more on her side. Her belly tightened and she let out a groan. Seraph nodded sagely and moved to the foot of the bed.

“This is it. Just a few more big pushes and you’ll meet your baby. Ready, Maddie?”

Madeline nodded and looped her arms around Maduin’s shoulders and neck. With each contraction, she squeezed him tight. Coughing at the strength of her grip, Maduin squeezed back, holding her steady as she brought their baby into the world.

Red-faced, with a tuft of green hair and not a horn or claw in sight, Maduin had never seen anything more precious. As their daughter settled in to nurse, Madeline turned to him with an exhausted smile.

“See? Everything is fine.”

Maduin held her close and stroked their daughter’s cheek. “Everything is perfect.”

-●-

“Terra!” Madeline’s eyes were wide, tone aghast, while Maduin struggled to contain his laughter.

Their daughter stamped her tiny foot and faced down her mother, fists clenched at her sides. “No!”

“Her new favorite word,” sighed Maddie. “Not ‘no’, Terra. It’s bathtime whether you like it or not.”

“NO!” This time, the toddler’s screech was accompanied by pop of magic. With a poof and a sneeze, Terra was engulfed in glittering white fur, the wild mane covering her eyes and sticking out in all directions. Now resembling a cat-sized ball of fluff, she plunked down on her little bottom and growled.

“That’s my girl!” Maduin scooped her up and held her overhead. “Look at that magic!” He brought her close to his chest, laughing as she attempted to sink her baby fangs into his arm. “You’ll glow so brightly, my darling.”

Indifferent to his praise, Terra let out a disgruntled, squeaky snarl and continued gnawing ineffectually at her father’s arm. Madeline shook her head, biting back a soft smile as she watched her husband with their daughter.

“We shouldn’t encourage these tantrums, you know.” She reached around to gently pry Terra out of her father’s hold.

Maduin repositioned her so Madeline could grip her more securely. “You’re right.” Terra squawked in protest as Madeline successfully deposited her in the bath. Maduin couldn’t contain his laughter as all her wild fur plastered flat against her skin. Huge golden eyes glared out at them from the sodden mass. “She’s just so cute though.”

Madeline hummed in agreement as she worked soap through Terra’s fur, finally coaxing a smile from her. Maduin watched contentedly, beyond grateful for the life they’d built. As his mate and daughter splashed and giggled together, he smiled.

Perhaps it was time to start convincing Maddie to give Terra a sibling.

Chapter Text

Deep in the bowels of the mages’ frozen stronghold, Terrato waited. He’d been a prisoner for weeks now, kept alone in a lightless room. The dark didn’t bother him nearly as much as the cold. The membranes along his nose and under his eyes let him ‘see’ well enough, but the cold left him groggy and sluggish.

The mages had thought that was enough to keep him contained. They weren’t wrong. The freezing mountain snow would push him into full hibernation whether he wanted to or not – but only if he went outside.

It never occurred to them that escape wasn’t his plan.

His dry scales rustled over the stone floor as he wound his sinuous body through the pillars that supported the ceiling. Pulled from the rock itself by cursed mage magic, they looked like joined stalactites and stalagmites, except their placement was too deliberate, too regular to have ever occurred in nature.

Terrato was certain there was a metaphor or something in that. One of his cleverer kinfolk would’ve worked it out, and he would’ve hissed his amusement at whatever insult to the mages they’d have pulled out. But the time for that was long passed – he was alone in this dank hole.

But he wouldn’t be for long.

He could hear the thumping footsteps coming down the stairs. Flicking his tongue out to taste the air, he caught the flavors of human sweat and unnatural magic. The air warmed as they drew closer – body heat and Magefire, no torches – thrumming with nerves and anticipation.

His time as a prisoner had come to an end. They were going to kill him.

The room grew brighter as the mages entered. The light from their Magefire carved gaunt hollows in their faces, casting their eyes in shadow. It glinted off his scales and reflected in his eyes. He bared his fangs in a warning hiss. The sound rumbled through the room.

Abandoning the courtesy of a last request or final meal, the mages rushed forward, brandishing magic-infused weapons and flinging spell as they charged. Terrato made no attempt to defend himself, allowing the blows to scorch his hide.

The mages were so intent on their kill, they never noticed his coils threading around the edge of the room, wrapped tightly around the base of each pillar.

With a cavernous laugh, he unhinged his jaw in a serpentine smile.

And squeezed.

In a series of deafening cracks, each of the columns broke, slamming inwards as they toppled. The mages didn’t even have time to look up as the ceiling collapsed on them. Rubble pelted their unprotected flesh, pounding into them. Terrato hissed in pain as the chunks of broken ceiling slammed into him too. He felt his body break in several places, but it didn’t matter.

That had always been the plan.

Gathering his power for a final time, he opened the floor beneath them, sending them all tumbling into the blackness below. If any of the mages had survived the cave-in, they wouldn’t survive the earth closing in on top of them.

He turned to magicite at some point during the fall. Buried in rubble and corpses, Terrato sighed. His work was done. With that thought, he finally gave into the urge to hibernate.

-●-

He woke to the grinding sound of shifting rock. Boulders shifted and leathery fingers attached to a hairy arm pulled him from the grave he’d been guarding. He must’ve been asleep for many years – the corpses had long become bones, gnawed clean by cave creatures and dried by air and time.

His magicite was lifted to a shaggy face. A grey muzzle and oversized fangs peeked out from thick white fur. Terrato could just make out surprisingly soft eyes buried in the mop of hair.

The yeti carefully set him aside and continued clearing rocks, sorting through the bones, pulling out the most intact ones. After it was satisfied with what it had found, it scooped up its treasures and lumbered further into the cave network.

Terrato was surprised by the orderliness of the creature’s home. Lit by bone torches, the room was deliberately set up and cozy. A neat pile of straw and fur made a bed in one corner and smooth boulders served as a table and stools in another.

The yeti got to work arranging and stacking the bones in the center of the room. It soon became obvious that he was making a sculpture, though Terrato had never had an eye for such things. As the yeti secured a polished skull on top, he stepped back with a satisfied grunt.

Terrato found himself being slipped into pride of place as a single glittering eye. Staring out of the sculpture, he let out a hiss he knew the yeti couldn’t hear.

This was a good place – a safe place. He could rest here in peace.

Closing his eyes, he let himself drift back to sleep, to dream of long-lost kin and sunlit fields.

Chapter Text

So, you’re here again… the Esper greeted Kefka, …little human mage.

Kefka grunted and crossed his arms. “Not sure who’s bright idea it is for me to keep returning to you.” He sneered, trademark smile nowhere to be found.

It was almost a relief.

Whenever he found himself in this misty in-between, Kefka wore the skin of the man he used to be – blond hair in a neat military cut, a clean uniform; no makeup, feathers, or jewelry in sight.

He used to be so boring.

The green, boar-like Esper let out a snorting laugh, devoid of mirth. Its head hung low, as if too heavy for its serpentine neck and bulky shoulders to support. Tusks scraped against the ground as it twisted to look up at him, its single, ruby eye unblinking.

Kefka felt the familiar cold overtake him as stone crawled up his legs. He’d struggle, but he knew from experience, it was no mere shell for him to break out of. He’d hardened to the bone.

I remind you of your powerlessness. The Esper sounded smug. It’s why you can’t escape me.

It waddled around him, hooves beating an ungainly rhythm that echoed through the mist. Its head dragged to the side, somehow always staring at him.

It doesn’t matter how many of us you drain, you know. You’ll never be powerful enough to avoid this place. You’ll always return to me.

Kefka twitched. The stone spread upwards, pinning his arms to his chest.

“Good thing there are plenty of you left to try.” The sentence ended in a strangled cough as his lungs calcified beneath his ribs.

Somehow his heart still beat within the stone. What had withered to uselessness in the real world, fluttered and pounded frantically in this cursed place, bruising itself against an unyielding cage.

The Esper slowly hauled its head upwards. Its tusks gouged furrows into Kefka’s petrified flesh as it went. The stone powder wafted out to mingle with the mist. It laughed again.

We really are the same, you and I.

Its neck arched and slithered against him, undulating as it climbed up his torso.

We both relish the feeling of having our prey exactly where we want it.

Stone had locked Kefka’s neck in place. He couldn’t turn his head away as the Esper rested its leathery cheek on his shoulder. Its breath smelled of rot and earth.

And we both appreciate the poetry of its useless struggle to survive. It twisted its neck, rolling its head so its weight rested on its chin. Its tusks sliced jagged lines across Kefka’s still soft jaw. The music in the silence after we’ve struck the final blow.

Blood welled from the wound and dripped down Kefka’s marble body, the crimson stripes the only color in this bleached and lifeless world. The Esper lifted its head so they were face-to-face. Its single eye glinted almost affectionately. The red of its iris was the last thing Kefka saw.

See you soon, brother.

-●-

Kefka blinked awake, still strapped to an operating table in Cid’s lab. The weak-willed doctor was detaching the last of the monitors from his body. All that remained was the IV that kept him hydrated. All the other ports had been bandaged.

“Good to see you awake, Kefka.”

Liar.

“Are you sure it worked?” Kefka snapped. “I feel the same.”

Cid cringed. “We won’t know for sure for another few days.” He let out a shaky sigh. “This was your fourth infusion this month. I think its time for you to stop.” He loosened the straps around Kefka’s wrists and stepped back.

“The Emperor doesn’t agree.” Kefka bared his teeth in a soulless smile, rubbing feeling back into his wrists. “Prep another one.”

Cid started to protest, but Kefka pinned the quivering scientist with a blazing stare. With a defeated sigh, Cid gave a small nod. Kefka swung himself off the operating table and flounced to the door with a manic cackle.

“See you soon, Doctor.”

Chapter Text

“Espers turn to this… magicite… when they die, correct?” Shadow’s question was softly spoken, somber, serious to the point of emotionless.

He held up the glowing stone, tilting it to examine its facets. Alone on watch, there was no one awake to witness his curiosity. Even the ever-loyal Interceptor had wandered into Relm’s tent. Shadow imagined his stubby tail wagging as he curled up next to the girl. He almost smiled.

Correct. The wraith-like Esper’s answer was equally placid, yet another rustle in the leaves. It hovered in the shadows furthest from the fire, emitting the same pale green glow as its magicite.

“They do not become ghosts.”

No.

Shadow waited patiently. So did the Esper.

Tucking the crystal shard in one hidden pocket, Shadow pulled a blade from another and settled in to his nightly ritual of honing his weapons. The Esper continued to float behind him, form flickering and wavering along with the fire.

That is not the question you wish to ask.

For a long moment, the rasp of blade against whetstone was the only sound.

“Were you always what you are now?”

No.

“Did you choose this form, then?” A whisper of impatience colored Shadow’s tone. “To become a shade before death?”

The Esper hesitated. Shadow waited.

I… did not. But it is the result of my choices all the same.

“Hnn.” A grunt, filled with more understanding than it should be.

I broke an oath. Oaths have power. When I forsook mine, my power forsook me. So, I faded into this – no longer one of the living, but never one of the dead. No rest on either side.

Shadow made no reply, merely returned his newly-sharpened blade to its hidden sheath and pulled out another to give the same treatment.

“The only oaths I make are sealed in coin. Everyone is happier that way.”

Hnn. The Esper’s grunt was far less understanding. A code of honor for an honorless man?

“I have never failed to uphold my contracts.” Indignation crept into Shadow’s customary indifference.

I wonder if the ghosts that follow you would agree.

The blade he was honing fell to the dirt with a muffled thump.

Silence was comfortable to Shadow – preferred even – but this freezing of his lungs and locking of muscles was anything but. He’d long stopped feeling the chill of death that surrounded him, accepting it as a byproduct of his chosen life. He hardly heard the whispered accusations of the dead these days – the desperate, reproachful hisses of ‘Clyde’ finally lost in the static.

He only heard those voices in his dreams, and those were becoming fewer and farther in between.

Did the dead dream? What would it mean when he finally stopped – even if his heart kept beating?

He glanced again across the campsite to the tent where the girl and her grandfather slept, guarded by his dog. A long-buried memory willed itself to the surface, of tiny hands and soft, chubby cheeks pressed to his chest, long before it was clad in black. His breath hitched and he shook his head to clear it.

Perhaps ghosts are not the only ones following you, the Esper spoke thoughtfully. I wonder whose hold will prove stronger in the end. It faded back into its magicite. Do not let my fate become yours.

Hands shaking in a way he’d never admit to, Shadow retrieved the dropped blade and returned to his task.

“Perhaps it already has.”

Chapter Text

Sand flew as dozens of spiky green legs pistoned and dozens of spiky green arms pumped in a desperate sprint away from the newest threat. What that threat was, no one could say.

But it was there.

It was threatening.

And it had been trampled to death by a herd of cactrots.

Yipping and zipping around, the imitation cactuses guarded their desert home rather like a swarm of hornets, complete with requisite stings. For all they fled at the first sign of danger, their porcupine-esque method of defense proved a genuine deterrent for the squishy pink meatbags that occasionally stumbled through their territory.

It was during one such frenzied stampede, one cactrot plowed headfirst into a patch of unstable magic.

Immediately, its body bubbled and warped, growing at alarming speeds as it shot upwards. Its legs were next. Stiff as ever, they grew in spurts, first the upper segment, then the lower, inflating like balloons before settling into their new proportions.

Tiny arms wobbled and waved as the now-giant cactrot wheeled and spun, trying to get its bearings. With a final gurgle and pop, its arms expanded to match the rest of it. Balance restored, it settled in place, its perpetually shocked expression as shocked as ever.

Below, the cactrot herd froze in place as the new colossus blotted out the sun and shook the earth with each fumbling step. When, at last, it stilled and the dust cleared, they looked up as one. Dozens of open mouths remained agape. Dozens of eyes blinked in unison.

Oooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

Their collective exclamation filled the air. Needles bristled in awe. A few pink blossoms sprouted from especially excited members of the swarm.

Gigaaaaantaaauuuuur!

With knees unused to pointing in the same direction at the same time, and bodies unused to bending, the herd knelt and bowed to this strange new deity among them.

No longer would they need to flee before faceless terrors. No longer would their sandy home suffer the presence of the squishy pink meatbags. Their guardian would go before them. His needles would blacken the skies with their numbers. Intruders would flee before him.

The Age of the Meatbag was over.

The Age of the Cactrot had begun.

All hail Gigantuar, god of the cactrots.

Chapter Text

They’d escaped the mages’ frozen stronghold together, this little spy and him. Now they trudged through the snow, caked in blood both their own and each other’s, leaning into an unforgiving wind that carried a chill more ominous than just the usual frostbite.

Tritoch had been sent to get the little spy out. Born a mage, but shaped by his time fighting alongside the king’s favorite summoner, he was the perfect double agent.

He’d tried to get to his imprisoned brother as well, but the mages had found him and attacked, blocking his path and forcing him down a different path. When faced with the choice between preserving his cover and defending an Esper, the little spy had chosen Tritoch without hesitation, much to the Esper’s surprise.

With his true allegiance revealed, the mages had turned on him too, sending spells as vicious as anything they threw at Espers his way. He deflected them with a skill that belied his years, testament to the battles he’d already fought and survived.

But they were outnumbered, and luck played just as much a role on the battlefield as skill.

All too soon, theirs ran out.

One of the enemy mages landed a lucky shot, slicing the little spy open from shoulder to hip. He’d dropped in silence, ragged crimson soaking through his green striped pants. His staff clattered to the ground at his feet.

Diving in front of him, Tritoch had spread his jeweled wings, hissing and clacking his beak in warning. Lightning rippled and crackled between his claws as orbs of fire and ice circled his crowned head. Light pulsed as his power built and with a shriek of rage, he sent his magic flying outward, searing flesh and breaking bones with each successful hit.

Behind him, a faintly gurgled healing spell told him the spy had staved off death for another moment. Tritoch felt him stagger to his feet. Using his scaled body as a shield, he pushed him down the passageway, toward the stairs that led to freedom. Once they were outside, he could fly them out of range to safety.

They’d almost reached the doorway when Tritoch took a spell between his shoulders. His scales deflected the initial blow, but he soon realized the attack was something far more insidious. Something acidic ate into his flesh. Twisting to see, he left himself open to another blow, which landed just under his ribs, where hardened scales gave way to softer flesh.

That attack burned its way through him with alarming speed.

Shoving desperately into the winter sunlight, Tritoch nudged the little spy into a run. Using his staff as a crutch, he hobbled as fast as he could. Neither of them could move quickly, but they covered enough ground to be safe. Panting and coughing in the mountain cold, they lurched through the snow until they found a cave opening in the cliffside.

In a mutual, unspoken decision, they decided to risk whatever was inside. Hiding from any pursuing mages and sheltering from the cold were far more pressing considerations. They stumbled inside, going just deep enough to not feel the wind. Out of sight, they each slumped to the ground.

Safe at last, Tritoch reached out on a mental tendril, throwing out a cry for help to his kin. Phoenix knew of his mission and had promised to fly that way. If they could stay alive, she’d find and heal them.

The spy’s head lolled against the rock wall as he turned to look at Tritoch. Pale from blood loss and pain, he raised a shaking hand and gestured at Tritoch. Weak green lights twinkled from his fingertips and scattered over the Esper’s wounds. The burning and bleeding stopped, but Tritoch felt as weak as before.

“Damn. Sorry. My sister was always better at healing magic.” He let out a raspy cough. “If she saw me now, she’d probably smack me for being too cocky,” he chuckled, “after she made sure I didn’t die, of course.”

Tritoch rumbled in fond amusement. I have similar relationships with several of my kin. Kirin would scold me first, then heal me, then scold me again for good measure.

Wearily, he laid his head on the ground. The spy leaned against him. Another weak sprinkle of light eased his rattling breathing.

“I’m rubbish at healing,” he grumbled, “and your wounds need more than I could give even at full strength.” He eyed the snow outside and turned back to Tritoch. “I felt you call out to your friends a moment ago. You think anyone will come?”

Yes.

“Quickly?”

Here, Tritoch had no answer.

“That’s what I was afraid of.” He raised an eyebrow. “That particular batch of mages was experimenting with the kind of magic that always does more damage than you think it will. Whatever they hit you with, it’s going to have some sort of secondary reaction unless its dealt with now.”

They hit you too, Tritoch pointed out.

“Yeah, but I’m human. It won’t have the same effect on me. They were tailoring the nastier stuff for Espers.”

The little spy pushed himself up with a groan and cracked his knuckles.

“My sister might’ve specialized in white magic, but I’ve always been better with the darker stuff. I can’t heal you, but I can buy you time another way.” Picking up his staff, he locked eyes with Tritoch. “Do you trust me?”

Tritoch nodded again. The little spy looked surprised, but pleased, and nodded back.

Gathering his magic, he pointed his staff at Tritoch and sent out a stream of ice. Tritoch jumped, but soon realized he felt no pain, just a vague warmth. Confused, he looked at the spy as the strange ice crawled along his body.

“A special kind of freezing,” the spy said. “Kind of like petrification. It’ll preserve you as you are – keep the damage from spreading – ‘til help arrives.”  

Tritoch nodded as the ice closed over his head. It was rather like falling asleep. As he drifted off, he pushed one last thought out to his companion.

Thank you.

“You’re welcome.” The spy lowered his staff. “See you soon.”

Chapter Text

He’d been a god among his people once – King of the Dragons, Hallowed Father. But then he’d been bested by some upstart little dragoon and had become part of their summoner’s arsenal. He’d never returned to his lunar home, diminishing instead, and going through the Gate to live with his people away from the humans.

Then the Gate unsealed and Bahamut felt that siren’s call from the other side, of the unbridled power that used to pulse through his veins.

He was the first to fly through it.

Unlike the others who’d never felt their powers surge to such levels, Bahamut didn’t run amok or go feral. With several well-placed blasts of power, he destroyed the humans’ latest monument to their delusions of grandeur before soaring as high as he could, enjoying the heat of the sun on his scales.

He’d rejoin his kin later.

Except he wouldn’t.

Their cries as they were massacred rang through his mind in an agonizing symphony. The pain as their homeland was turned inside out was blinding. The desecration of his goddesses and the destruction of this world was crippling.

Each blow compounded on the last until Bahamut could no longer stay aloft. Plummeting to the earth, he crashed into a mountainside and blissful oblivion.

When he regained consciousness, the first thing he did was take to the skies. What he saw below shook him to his core. The planet was scarred beyond recognition and his goddesses’ song had warped into a discordant mess pulsing over everything.

He’d lived more lifetimes than most could count. He’d seen mages driven mad by the Void try to destroy the planet. He’d seen other mages driven mad by power try to steal more from his kind.

He’d never seen any of them succeed.

Dazed, he picked a direction at random and flew. The desolation below showed no sign of ending. No part of the planet was untouched. So focused on the evil below was he, that he didn’t sense the evil above until it was too late.

A Void-cloaked creature slammed into him with an unholy screech.

Bahamut reeled backwards, spinning end-over-end. Claws raked through his back and shoulders. The wounds burned as his flesh ripped open, poison burning through muscle and bone alike. Enraged by the pain, he roared. Flapping his wings to regain control, he kicked out savagely with claws of his own, lashing his jagged spiked tail like a whip. His assailant hissed in pain and drew back.

Horned and bare-skulled, the demon leered at him with a rictus grin. Toxic green power pulsed and swirled around its ropey arms, mixing with the smokey power of the Void to form cloudlike wings.

Bahamut’s ruby eyes widened.

Doomgaze. Demon of the Sky. A scourge long sealed and forgotten. An evil so potent, no mage had been foolish enough to free him.

Until this one.

With a trumpeting bellow, Bahamut launched himself forward, wings flaring wide as he summoned his magic. Unleashing the concentrated power of the sun, he shot a glowing blue wave towards Doomgaze. Sun spots flashed and went dark as the holy power burned away the demon’s corruption.

Ragged and smoking, Doomgaze laughed deep in its chest, the sound landing like a plague on the air. Bahamut twitched and braced himself.

Frigid air beat and swirled around him, trapping him in a vortex of ice and dust. He growled as the grit scraped across his open wounds. Squinting against the onslaught, Bahamut fought to stay airborne, swinging his head from side-to-side, trying to keep Doomgaze in his line of sight.

When the storm cleared, Bahamut was alone in the sky. He groaned. The poison burning through his veins wouldn’t be enough to kill him – if he found somewhere safe to rest for a few years. He remembered frozen mountains to the north, inhospitable and perfect for hibernating.

He wearily oriented himself to fly in that direction when he felt the air change behind him. He only had time to whirl around to meet Doomgaze head on, claws outstretched and teeth bared. The titans crashed together in a tangle of limbs, tearing at each other in a blind rage.

Bahamut sank his teeth in to Doomgaze’s putrid shoulder, worrying the joint. Smokey blood filled his mouth and nostrils, stinging his eyes.

Snarling, Doomgaze gouged his horns into Bahamut’s belly, shredding through the tender skin and ripping at the organs beneath. Bahamut screamed and the demon drew back, vermillion blood dripping down his death’s-head grin.

With a final explosion of power, Bahamut felt himself fall from the sky. Dimly, he was aware of the demon screeching in pain, but the ever-present taint of its presence didn’t fade.

Bahamut sighed and his vision slowly went dark.

If he hadn’t outlived that dragoon by centuries, he’d have given him a piece of his mind about diminishing him so. He’d never have lost to this creature if he’d still had his full powers.

Boney claws grabbed his magicite out of the air and pushed it deep within the demon’s body. Bahamut cringed in disgust as he felt himself be surrounded by Void. He could feel the damage he’d done to the monster. Hopefully, that had weakened it enough that one of those human champions could defeat it.

Because, if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that – somewhere on this withered rock – Warriors of Light would rise to throw down this mage that wanted to play god. And when they did, they would find him and he would help them.

With nothing else to do, he settled in to wait.

Chapter Text

Humans refused to venture near the hill of rubble that used to be Kefka’s Tower. Even years later, well into rebuilding, every settlement stopped short as if at an invisible barrier. Such universal avoidance allowed nature to reclaim the area, and the Mad God’s Tomb was soon covered by a thick forest that very quickly developed rumors of being haunted.

And it was, just not by what the humans thought.

Deep underground, buried under layers and layers of wreckage and ruin, luminescent liquid dripped down jagged rocks, trickling through hidden crevices. Every rivulet found another, joining together to form a glowing subterranean river.

From under the surface, something clawed its way to consciousness.

Knit together from the memories of fear and rage, steeped in echoes of nihilistic laughter, the creature that formed embodied every horror that had ever inhabited that cursed place.

The liquid sluiced from its lanky form as it climbed out of the river. Its sodden, membranous wings peeled from its shoulders as it fanned them to dry. It grinned in the dark, knife-like teeth glittering silver in its blackened face.

Foolish humans to think magic was gone when it had simply changed form. Born from the remains of his long-dead kin, this river trickled sluggishly through bedrock and ocean alike. It would take centuries, but over time, it would once again infuse the entire world with its power.

The newborn Esper rolled his shoulders and flexed his claws. Glancing down at the river that had birthed him, he huffed out a growling laugh. Its glow was shifting towards a living green. He was part of the darkness it needed to expel, memories of madness and cruelty that had no place in this new source of creation.

His barbed tail twitched behind him as he scratched at his emerging horns. If the only purpose for his existence was to purify this infant magic, he could accept that. Reaching out both mentally and physically, he drew more corruption from the river. The poisoned magic pulsed and slithered around his form, coalescing into an orb that crackled with malevolent energy. Passing the orb between his hands, he molded it like dough, rolling and stretching it between his claws.

The power felt familiar, comfortable even. Nightmare, Chaos, and Void incarnate, he wrapped it around himself like a warm blanket. Curling in midair, he floated above the river, drawing wisps of poison from it as it passed beneath him.

With each drop of darkness he collected, his form grew more solid. Born from the ashes of devils, he looked like a devil himself, all crimson skin, onyx plating, and lethal horns. He supposed he should choose a name as diabolical as the rest of him.

Diabolos had a nice ring to it.

He grinned again, the expression distorting his already sharpened features.

He leaned back and swirled a taloned finger in the glowing liquid, now a vibrant green, healthy and lifegiving. He could already hear the songs of some of his kinfolk bubbling to the surface. In time, they’d retake physical form and join him. For now, he’d stay at his solitary post – guardian of this Underworld.