Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was cold in the mountains, a stock-standard clichéd opening seen in a multitude of literary works. Further adding to this steaming pile of overused maxim, the snow on the ground sparkled in the moonlight. The only real blessing this offered anyone was a beginning to this adventure so cheap and safe that even a bad publisher would be proud.

Going back to the weather, the starlit skies were semi-clear and the air crisp enough to freeze breath. Angry clouds loomed over the northern horizon and the nearby mountain town, their majestic moonlit beauty adequately able to divert attention from the potentially deadly snow flurries and cutting gale-force winds. The moon, undeterred by the threat of the impending storm, brilliantly shone a little light to illuminate the way for three dark figures on their way to the summit of the hill.

At a distance, these three appeared to be some form of nightmare creatures; monsters if you will. Their deep reverberating and metallic kah-chunk kah-chunk footsteps, the harsh angular edges, and the nasty sharp pointed claws altogether suggested something otherworldly, and more than capable of whimsical disemboweling. If one were to scrutinize these creatures closer, it would come to light that they weren't creatures at all. One could say they were three plumbers riding tongue-slinging, turtle shell-eating bipedal reptiles. One could also say they were three special operatives riding metallic and geared Godzilla knock-offs. Upon closer inspection, two of the three human soldiers were twenty-something-year-old men – generic looking and clothed in brown military fatigues that only added to their rather drab mundaneness. The third one, sticking out like a sore thumb, was a similarly aged young woman in multi-colored robes with a wild mane of long emerald curls underneath her sparkling tiara.

Upon reaching their destination up high, the more decorated of the two men brought his small group to a halt at the edge with a raised hand. The other lesser decorated soldier looked about nervously, something obviously making him itch. The cause was unclear, but it could have been the upcoming storm. It could have been the howling of the wind whipping itself through the canyon. It could have even been the woman's ever-present blank stare and overall lack of emotion. More than likely the cause stemmed from his laying with a two-bit hooker before the start of the mission, though no one could really say for sure.

"There's the city," remarked the more remarkable of the two men. He indicated several miles away toward the twinkling lights of the sleeping city nestled between the mountains. Buildings belched steam and smoke from their chimneys, the smell of which hung chokingly in the air even with the gales throwing things about like a spoiled child in the midst of a tantrum.

"What did you say, Wedge?" the other man shouted over the whistling wind.

Wedge rolled his eyes and beckoned for his comrade to come closer. "I said," he shouted, "there's the city! Bloody hell, Vicks! Pay attention!"

Vicks moved closer where communication could take place without everyone needing to scream at each other like wild snow banshees. Although, with the way the wind was howling, Wedge was beginning to think that the Narshe Mountains in the Ice Cap Zone were populated with those crazed mythological monster-girls and tried convincing himself that none were hidden about singing laments of their demise. At least, he had been until his thoughts were interrupted.

"Sorry, sir. And it's Biggs, sir."

With his eyebrow jumping up, Wedge turned in his seat to regard his subordinate. "Who what now?" he enquired.

"My name, sir," came a reply from behind a salute.

"What about it?"

"It's Biggs, sir."

"It's not…Vicks?

"That's correct, sir."

Wedge nodded with a frown and resumed watching the town. He had reasonable confidence that his reports listed Vicks' name as Vicks. But, then again, he had thought that Corporal Butz had been Corporal Bartz. He'd have to investigate once he returned to Vector.

Biggs inched his machine closer to the edge of the cliff to peer over the side. Offhandedly, he said, "Hard to believe they found an esper frozen under this dump."

Wedge nodded in agreement. "Yeah. High command thinks it's been there since the War of the Magi."

"A thousand years?" Biggs snorted in disbelief and folded his arms across his chest. "Whatever. They're probably just sending us on another wild goose chase, sir."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Vicks." Wedge, oblivious to the scowl hanging on Biggs' face, jerked a thumb back towards the pale and expressionless girl behind them. "If this information was bunk, she wouldn't be here with us on this mission."

Biggs snorted once again and drummed his fingers on a mechanical console. "Yeah," he muttered with a thick slice of sarcasm. "I'm bloody sure an eighty-pound girl is going to save our arses in a firefight."

Wedge looked between his two companions. If 'The Witch' had heard Vicks' outburst, she didn't show it. She didn't even show any discomfort with the cold, which was odd considering that she was abnormally thin, shades larger than skeleton-like. Her tired, sunken eyes and sickly porcelain skin both made her appear more dead than zombies are alive.

Biggs, while right about her appearance, had no clue as to just how dangerous this girl was. Wedge knew that she was a pet project of one of the higher-ups, possibly even the Emperor himself, and that she was just as deadly in MagiTek armor as she was in close quarters combat. Somehow, she had taken out an entire squad of armed blokes in record time, but the how and the why were nowhere to be found. That information was locked up tighter than the Imperial MagiTek Facility and all attempts to unlock it had been stonewalled.

Supposedly, she had gone rogue during an operation, and Lord Kefka had been the one to stop her. However, he had also heard that Kefka had ordered her to go rogue. He supposed that what he believed didn't matter and that all rumors regarding her were to be scrutinized with a grain of salt. She had taken orders well so far, touch wood, but if she were suddenly to turn he and Biggs would have no chance.

Supposedly, she had been conditioned to be the perfect Imperial soldier, but… There was something off about that.

"Oi, Wedge! You okay?"

Wedge snapped back to reality and Biggs waving a hand in front of his face. He took a moment to recompose himself. "Remind me to tell you what I know of this girl on our way into Narshe, Vicks. Speaking of, our mission is to verify the existence of an esper in the mines behind the town. We don't attack anyone unless they attack us first. This mission is about speed and stealth foremost. Understood? We'll approach from the east." He turned to the expressionless girl behind him and ordered, "You take point. Let's move out!"

A young dark-haired man poked his head up from around a craggy surface to watch the scene before him. The Fire Witch followed her orders without question or complaint and led the two soldiers back the way they had come. Once they disappeared around the bend along with the faint echoes of complaints regarding something about a name, he growled a frustrated growl.

"God dammit, Edgar," he said below the howling wind. "I hate it when you're right."

As he disappeared back behind the cliff's edge, snow began to fall from the sky. Within moments, the intensity of the snowfall increased to blizzard standards, erasing all history of anyone or anything ever having been on that summit.

Chapter Text

If any governments in the world were to hold a census regarding travel hotspots, one hundred percent of the time the last town on the list would be Narshe. Hell, even most Narsheans didn't want to be in Narshe. Temps reached colder than a witch's titty on a good day and snowed piled up to eyeballs on most others. A majority of the residents more than anything complained about the isolation that living surrounded by a canyon wall and miles away from bum-fuck nowhere typically brings.

Despite the complaining and self-deprecating, no Narshean worth his salt would ever consider leaving his home even just to visit his ailing mother for the holidays. Was it too cold to leave the warmth of the fire? Perhaps. Did they have something against mothers? Perhaps not. It was just one of those contradictory asinine things that nations around the world failed to explain with surveys.

They often say that location is the best way to grow a town. Despite the negativity regarding its weather, Narshe's location at the very northern tip of the Figaro Valley did offer some fairly neat things that bolstered their economy, boosters such as excellent strategic defenses, a booming mining industry, rocks, and even more rocks. Unfortunately, years of over-mining caused that booming industry to fall under an avalanche of rocks. Even the worldwide rock market had crumbled after the other nations of the world discovered that lumps of hard sediment with glued on googly eyes didn't make as great of pets as the Narshe Mining Company had led everyone to believe.

A trade agreement with Castle Figaro to the south showcasing the exchange of iron ore for cold hard gil had also gone bust. Despite the frantic digging at the notion of going broke, the tunnels stopped producing anything worthwhile, at least until the frozen esper happened. It had been the last thing anyone had expected to find down there, and from this discovery, Narshe went from outcast to center of attention almost immediately.

Espers in this world of humans were rare sights. To the average Joe Blow, an esper is a made-up word that still scores twenty points in a game of Scrabble. To Johnny Knowitall, however, the term esper referred to a mythical being of immense magical power. Most information regarding them had been lost over the years, but what most scholars knew for certain was that they had fought humans over a thousand years ago in the Great War of the Magi and that they were from another realm.

Due to the war, the espers had made sure to keep that doorway between the two worlds sealed tight. Because of that, it was speculated that this frozen beast was a relic of that ancient war, and that notion was all Narshe needed to take steps in safeguarding their find. It was hard enough staying neutral in skirmishes between the magic hungry Empire and other nations, but with the advent of this discovery, peace was going to become harder to maintain.

Despite the town's attempts to keep them out, three of the Empire's MagiTek Armored soldiers stalked through the streets, shrouded in darkness and with as much silence the could muster. The only sights were the snow-choked cobblestones and buildings. The only sounds were the mortar shell like explosions of their footfalls in the snow and the lonely howling of the wind. Nothing seemed to block their path until Murphy's Law jumped into the mix full swing, which caused the turf in front of the tavern to erupt in a shower of frozen chunks and a thunderous boom that reverberated off the canyon walls for miles around. As the wailing wind cleared the dust and snow, the three soldiers stood rooted in place, waiting to see what, if anything, would happen.

Wedge turned to his comrade and openly berated, "God dammit, Vicks! We're supposed to verify that there's an esper here! Not to blow up the bloody town!"

"It's Biggs, sir," came an irritated reply. "And my, uh, trigger hand slipped. Sorry, sir. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't! There's a difference between reconnaissance and all out—" A MagiTek laser sizzling past his ear cut Wedge off. A second, third, and fourth forced him down under the cockpit console for a brief period. Even though it had long passed, he could still feel the heat of the blast. That was going to blister something fierce.

"Those hoser Imperials sent MagiTek Armor, eh?" someone with a thick Narshean accent exclaimed over the firefight. "Not even Narshe's safe anymore!"

Biggs spouted curse words over the high-pitched whine of his machine charging its lasers. By the time Wedge returned to his seat, The Witch had flooded the area with a bile colored gas that immediately choked out the opposition; literally and figuratively. No sooner had the toxin dissipated, she stated with an emotionless and stilted monotone, "All kuh-clear." Wedge noted that she sounded almost as if her tongue had tried to be uncooperative. No, she must've had a speech impediment. Either way, it had sounded very strange.

Biggs brought his machine up to a lifeless body and with a gargantuan metallic foot nudged what once had been a man to his back. "Narshean night watch," he said. "Complete with outdated MagiTek."

"How outdated?"

"Several years at least, sir."

Wedge nodded and scrunched his face into a tiny frown. "Right. They know we're here, and they have tech." After gingerly touching his blistered ear, he added, "It may be old, but it can still bite. Be on your guard."

The group made their way into the town and were accosted by the night watch several more times. Each time ended the same way as the initial battle; the girl saved their asses with poison gas. Each time Vicks complained about not having access to the same weapon. Each time Wedge had to point out that she was in experimental armor. Eventually, he just gave up and let him complain to the wind. Repeating oneself and expecting a different result was a sign of madness. Crazy, he wasn't.

It hadn't been long before they happened upon a gated cave at the back of the town. Chances were good that this was where they wanted to be. Nobody in their right minds would seal off a cave to protect rocks with wobbly eyes. What would be the point in protecting something worth so little? That would either mean they were incredibly stupid or they were pretending in order to protect something else. Wedge drew a sigh of relief. Hopefully, coming across this meant that Vicks would stop bitching about The Witch.

After studying the padlocked vertical bars, Wedge concluded that they were much too thick for a man to break with his bare hands. Secondarily, they were too overly shiny for long time exposure to the harsh arctic air. This was a new installation. He snapped his finger against a bar which caused a metallic note to reverberate into the cave and back again. "According to Mr. Durmoch, the Narsheans unearthed the esper in a new mine shaft," he said. "This must be it."

"What tells you that, sir?" Biggs said with a snort. "The bars? The many cries of 'Defend the mines!' from the Narshean night watch?"

"Your smart mouth is telling me that you volunteered to open this gate, Vicks," Wedge retorted with a frown.

Vicks' face went completely red as if someone had left a kettle on a hot fire for far too long. Metaphysical steam flushed from his ears as he shouted, "My name is Biggs!" He smashed a mechanical, magical-powered fist through the gate and ripped it off its hinges, like a cat through a wet paper bag, all the while repeating his name with shouts. He must have realized what he had done because, not long after the outburst, he took a moment to study everything with silence. He then tossed the mangled steel bars aside and muttered, "I think that got it, sir."

Wedge ordered the group into the dank, dark cave. The Witch switched on a floodlight mounted at the front of her armor and led them inside. Aside from the MagiTek Armors' kah-chunking footfalls, there was a not a noise to be heard; not even the stereotypical dripping or running of water. There weren't even the sounds of tiny rodents or creepy-crawlies scurrying about in the darkness. It was so quiet that Wedge could hear his heartbeat in his ears.

Biggs, on the other hand, seemed to jump at every little noise heard or, rather, he thought he heard. "Hey, Wedge," he whispered, "do you feel like someone's watching us?"

Wedge laughed not because he thought Vicks had said something funny, but because he wanted to calm his nerves. He agreed, but he certainly wasn't going to admit it. That's how the eyes in the darkness won in the end. "I think you're jumping at shadows," he said as he quickly looked about.

The Witch's light only covered an area ahead of them, making it difficult to see in any other direction. Not that it mattered, anyway. The group's one-two formation stretched the entire width of the cavern and, so far, there had been only one shaft offshoot near the entrance. It was an excellent spot for someone to hide and spy, but there had been no one there when they had passed.

The Witch suddenly stopped without so much as a warning, causing Wedge and Biggs nearly to run into the back of her. "Eh-enemies," she explained after the fact with that creepy, stilted speech. "Ah-ahead."

They had reached an open cavern that had very few lit lanterns strewn about, which gave the atmosphere a somewhat foreboding feel to it. At the far end, surrounded by many even smaller lamps and encased in an unnatural looking block of ice, sat a giant multicolored, multi-feathered beast of a bird. Just before it sat the most massive and angriest snail creature Wedge had ever seen. Its slimy stalks for eyes focused on them as its two keepers corralled it in place using what appeared to be lightning infused rods.

"We're not handing over the esper! Sorry, eh," said one of the Narsheans as he shook a fist.

"You can either leave the easy way or the hard way," said the other, also with a shaking fist.

"The easy way I can guess," Biggs said. "What's the hard way, mate?"

"Well, buddy, we destroy you and send your heads back to your emperor, eh."

Biggs shared a frown with Wedge and shrugged his shoulders. "Sounds fun," he said. "I always wanted to fight a welk."

One of Wedge's eyebrows went into orbit. "You know what that thing is?" he asked.

"It's a giant snail that absorbs magical energy through its shell, sir. Attack the shell, and it hits you with a gigavolt. It's also got nasty sharp pointy teeth."

A voice came from the opposite side of the cavern. "Don't leave us hangin' over here, eh. Which you choose, ya hosers?"

By now, the welk creature struggled to free itself from its keepers, and they struggled to hold it back, at least half-heartedly. Wedge readied his armor for combat. "Let's see what you got!" he shouted.

Nearby, Biggs bounced in his seat. "This's gonna be bloody awesome!"

"Ymir! Get those hosers!"

The keepers finally released their hold, allowing the creature full reign. It hopped towards the Imperials, showering the surrounding area with slime as it landed. Wedge narrowly missed being covered in the sticky goo, but Biggs got covered human head to mechanical toe, completely stalling his mobility. Black, acrid smoke began pouring from his machine as the sludge seeped into places where it didn't belong.

The Witch, on the other hand, distracted the creature with a magical ball of fire. That was when Wedge noticed it. A missile was vibrating furiously in the launcher under her cockpit. He cried out, "No, wait!" but then realized that he didn't know her name to gain her attention. "You! Stop! Don't attack the shell!"

The warning came too late. The welk exploded in a blinding and fiery explosion that not only obliterated the creature but covered them all in sticky slime. Lightning thundered out of the now deceased mess and arced across the cavern with deafening cracks, striking everything within its path – injuring flesh and destroying anything mechanical.

Wedge fought with his machine to keep it going, but if the thick smoke pouring out of its joints were any indication, that wasn't going to happen. If the welk goo was keeping them in place, the lightning destroyed any possibility of becoming free. After sighing and allowing the smoke a few moments to dissipate, he hopped out of his cockpit to survey their surroundings. All that remained of the creature was the partially burnt husk of its shell, bits of which were still alight with fire, and the smoldering goo that covered nearly everything. The welk's keepers, nowhere to be found, were assumed to have been blown to bits as well.

"Aw, man," Biggs whined from behind with a cough.

Wedge turned to regard his two companions as they dropped to the ground. "What's wrong?"

Biggs folded his arms across his chest with a pout. "I wanted to fight the welk." He jerked his thumb towards The Witch. "Why is she here again, sir? I mean, it's obvious that she's horribly overpowered compared to everything we fought so far."

Wedge shrugged. He had nothing else really to offer as an answer. "We're alive," he added. "Just be thankful for that."

"Yeah, I guess. Still, doesn't change the fact that she blew up an electric snail in one hit."

"Let it go, Vicks!"

"God dammit. I'm just gonna change my name."

"Enough with the drama," Wedge said. "C'mon. We'll continue on foot."

After nods of agreement, The Witch took the lead through the remainder of the cave. They sidestepped through the charred gooey mess and, in no time, made it to where the esper rested. It gave off a brilliant radiance of its own that only enhanced the low ambient light and dimly lit the smoke hanging in the air like photographs developing in a dark room. Up close, it gave off even more creepy vibes, its dead eyes giving off the impression that it was watching and scrutinizing everything all around it.

"So…" Vicks began nervously, "this is a magical esper?"

Wedge regarded the frozen creature warily. Something about it wasn't sitting right with him. "I'm assuming so," he said with a nod. "I've never seen one before. It gives me the willies." He paused for a moment before turning to the others. "Right, so while stealth wasn't our strong point on this mission, I can't say that it wasn't a success. So, let's double back and let…" He let the sentiment die in the air when he noticed The Witch staring slack-jawed at the esper, her breathing giving the impression of a panic attack minus the attack.

Biggs, reading Wedge's expression, turned and reached out to touch her shoulder. "Hey, you okay?"

There was a sudden flash of blinding light that originated from both her tiara and the esper itself. Wedge recoiled defensively until the screaming, one of unrelenting pain and torment. He didn't wait for his eyes to adjust before he tackled who he thought was Biggs to the ground. When he looked back, he discovered that they both had narrowly missed becoming obliterated by a bolt of red lightning that danced between The Witch and the esper.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" Biggs shouted over her screams.

Wedge couldn't answer. Nothing in all his military training had ever prepared him for anything like this. He could only watch in puzzlement and shock as the now rainbow-colored lightning completely surrounded the girl, lifting her several inches off the ground. Those emotions changed to horror as her appearance changed, further accenting those screams of pain.

Wild emerald hair turned lavender. Green eyes burned into embers. Short whitish-pinkish fur sprouted up everywhere skin was exposed. Ears, growing more triangular and animal-like, migrated to the top of her head. Nails and fangs elongated and sharpened. Her screams became more like that of a cat's painful yowling. To the casual observer, this event occurred in the space of a second and a half, leaving her looking like some sort of glowing tail-less pink feline.

As the electricity faded from view, the newly transformed girl fell to a crouch in the dirt with a thud and a cloud of dust. As her glowing eyes darted to and fro across the room, her breaths came ragged and quick, as if she was confused, on the verge of panicking, and looking for a way out. The cavern fell painfully silent. Wedge followed its example and, refraining from moving a muscle, held his breath.

"What the hell happened to you?" Vicks whispered.

Whether that had been the catalyst, neither man knew. The girl yowled a scream and sent an explosion of fire shockwaving from her core, shaking what felt like the entire mountain. She flew around in circles at breakneck speed throwing herself at rocky walls, not unlike a caged animal, until she finally found the way out.

The girl's departure from the Narshean cave system was an explosion that nearly shook the entire mountain range to pebbles and burned what had passed as her clothing to ash. If the Imperials hadn't made themselves known in town, most of the Narsheans would have assumed that the miners were back to clearing tunnels with dynamite. However, because of the ruckus earlier, nearly every Narshean saw firsthand the flying flaming cat-girl blaze through the city.

After departing through the front gates, and setting them on fire as she passed, she shot straight up towards the sky before blazing off beyond the mountains to the south. Her fire was so bright its flames could have been seen from miles around if anyone had been observing. And some people had; a blazing white-hot meteor had been reported as far west as the farming town of Kohlingen to as far east as the port town of Nikeah. Figaro Castle to the south and the neighboring city of South Figaro not only saw her bright light but trembled in fear from her screams of anguish.

A confused Wedge led, with a limp, an equally confused and equally injured Biggs back towards where they had entered. Without much of a source of light, they blindly fumbled their way until Biggs stumbled over something substantial and kissed dirt in the process. A quick investigation on his part revealed the unconscious body of a young man sporting a bandana. "Who the hell is this guy?" he wondered as he brushed the dirt off his singed uniform.

"Let's bring him with us," Wedge ordered. "We'll find out once we get into the light and out of town."

"But without our MagiTek Armors and this guy slowing us down, we'll be slaughtered by the night watch, sir."

Vicks' concern was quite a real problem they faced. "I think I saw a side tunnel down near the cave entrance. I'd be willing to bet that it leads somewhere outside town," Wedge said as he helped Biggs share the burden of their new load. "C'mon. Lord Kefka will want to know about this."

Chapter Text

Three weeks had passed since 'The Doman Uprising,' or 'The Doman Massacre' as the world outside the Empire had quickly come to know it. The story, at least what was publicly known, told tales of the Kingdom of Doma resisting the advances of the Empire and becoming utterly destroyed as a consequence. What remained shrouded in secrecy, false truths, and fake news was that this one particular event created a divide in the Empire's high command.

The folklore, as it was, started with Doman strategist and knight Sir Cyan Garamonde having captured several Imperial scouts who hadn't been scouty enough to remain out of sight. To reclaim his men, Emperor Gestahl sent two of his generals, General Leo Christophe and Royal Court Mage Kefka Palazzo. One was highly regarded amongst Imperials and their opponents alike as a model soldier and overall decent human being. The other was legendary for his flippancy, crazed laughter, total disregard for life, and the amount of hate (and fear) he generated on both sides of the line.

Sir Cyan, finding that his people were outnumbered, led his country in refuge behind the sturdy walls of their castle and the strong currents surrounding them; a classic waiting game. A week had passed them all by before General Leo, concerned for the well-being of all parties involved, made headway in negotiations to see the safe release of his men from the gallows. But just before anything could be finalized, the Emperor requested that Leo return to Vector.

Depending on who asked, the outcome of this one decision was either a great tragedy or among the greatest of Imperial achievements. No sooner had Leo's boots hit dirt outside the camp, Kefka ordered his soldiers to poison Doma's water supply by cover of night. Within twenty-four hours the waiting game boarded the Phantom Train to the afterlife. Men, women, children, the elderly; none survived the horrible effects of the poison. Doma had become a civilization of abandonment and ghosts.

Even with a lack of evidence supporting it, thanks to Elite Imperial MagiTek Soldiers blocking access to the castle, there were whispers of something more sinister having taken place within those walls. Most believers of this particular version of the tale tended to wear tinfoil hats and swear upon their mother's grave that religious icons appeared on their toast or the bubbles in their bathtub. Nobody knew the truth of what happened save the Empire and Doma's dead. Neither were talking, thus making the task of sorting through fake news that much more difficult.

Vector rushed Kefka back as a hero of the Imperial named 'Doman Uprising.' Most of the high command praised his ferocity and never-ending drive. Parades were held in his honor, the truth of what he had done soon buried behind piles of ticket-tape, lies, and bureaucracy. But not all was well in the Empire for cracks were starting to divide its people. It began with several key low-ranking officers speaking out against Kefka's methods. They soon disappeared, either by reassignment or other mysterious ways. Both happened quite often in the Empire, so no one thought much about it.

Things really changed when the Empire's youngest and most popular general, Celes Chere, took center stage to speak her mind. All reports officially filed described nothing but what glorious heroics had taken place. Her argument had been that no bodies had been collected, Doman or otherwise, and that the only survivors had been Kefka and a handful of his elite guard. She had warned, "Control his disastrous antics or find me on the opposite side of the battlefield controlling them myself." Celes had figured that threatening a defection to the opposition, the rag-tag and disorganized Returners, would push the necessary buttons to get things under control. How wrong she had been. Instead of watching that madman receive his punishment, she instead watched herself receive hers. Not even a day after her outburst, she ended up back where she had started her career as general, stationed at South Figaro where nothing ever happened.

This change of events hadn't come as a surprise; there was no question when it was clear that Kefka was the most favored of the generals, despite being the least popular. Considering that he always displayed an "I do what I want when I want! Nyah-nyah!" type of attitude, Celes should have seen it coming sooner. If anything, she should have said something sooner rather than later.

She also hadn't been surprised that no sooner had she made it to South Figaro, before she could enact her personal plans to travel to Figaro Castle, Kefka and his Royal Guard seemingly appeared from nowhere. As he talked her down and usurped her command of her troops, that grin, that stupid psychotic grin was ever present. As much as she wanted to scream and tear down every one of her soldiers, she found that she couldn't. She wouldn't win. While her men would normally follow her to the ends of Gaia and back, there wasn't much she could do to protect them from Kefka's screamed threats of serving guacamole made from their testicles if they failed to side with him. Knowing Kefka, he wouldn't just stop at a soldier's groin. Baldur's Gate, no. Every single groin in that soldier's circle of family and friends were at stake.

All for want of intact groins was how Celes found herself in her current predicament, in the middle of a South Figarian forest, lying in the grass like a discarded doll with hands and feet bound by thick, sturdy rope. She had struggled as Kefka's Royal Guard had stripped her bare of her mythril armor and uniform, leaving her with only a tank top and her underwear as protection. Saying that she was slightly miffed at the situation was an understatement, but humiliation won over as the emotion of the day. Bastards.

Kefka, wearing a gleeful grin to end all grins, maniacally stared down at her. Celes angrily returned the gaze. She hated that stupid toothy grin. She wanted to smack the damn teeth out of his head and pound them into the ground with a heel, the alternative being shoving them up his ass. Either would most certainly be enjoyable payback. That'd show him.

If his face wasn't creepy enough already being covered in makeup and half hidden by shadows, the fact that he hadn't said anything to her sent shivers of creepiness down her spine. His squatting down next to her and grinning like a calculating idiot did not help matters, either. To buy some space between them, Celes did the only thing she could do in such a situation; she spat at him. Glee filled her as the flying phlegm landed square on his rather large and pointed nasal appendage.

It had been amusing watching the gears turn in his head as he tried to figure out what had happened. At first, it was denial, which had been plainly visible as he wiped his face clear. Then, the expected stage of anger seemed to have gotten lost somewhere en route and the emotion known as delight stepped in excitedly as a replacement. Kefka cackled psychotically and danced a prancing dance in an imaginary circle.

Well, that certainly was a reaction to spit that no one had ever seen before. Most normal individuals would have become enraged at such things. The only rational explanation: Kefka was crazy. Celes had always suspected him of it, and the rumors of his mental instability had their roots in a time before his MagiTek infusions – hell, before she had even been born. And being accused of treason because she disagreed with his methods absolutely did not change her opinion of him. Then again, perhaps she was the crazy one for thinking she could speak against the Emperor and his right hand and not find herself in this predicament, popularity be damned.

After some time, he finally decided to address her concerns about his actions at Doma, several weeks too late of course. Or, based on the faraway look in his eyes, he had been addressing the voices in his head. One couldn't be sure. "A thousand voices… All screaming in agony," he whispered with a shudder of pleasure. "Why, I know what you're thinking, General. But I had a rebellion to put down! They were getting incredibly rabid and, why, had to be put down like the dogs they were!"

That sneer had been so much of a greasy insult that it left her feeling unclean and seething behind clenched teeth. She angrily shook her head and looked away as best she could when he got down on all fours and brought his face within touching distance to hers.

"Oh, don't give me that look, Celes!" he mockingly pleaded. "I did what any good soldier would do to win a war." He showed his teeth the world before licking his lips and uttering in a guttural tone, "Anything." He cackled once more and, in an instant, shot up to dance excitedly in place.

To Kefka, his actions at Doma would have been like reading his daily paper while eating breakfast in the morning. No sane person would have been able to do what he had done and been able to turn around and gloat about it. "You poisoned women and children, arsehole!" Celes spat at him. "That's not fighting a war! That's cold-blooded murder!"

Kefka laughed his ever-present and ever annoying laugh before snapping his fingers at his nearby royal guard. "You there!" he said with stifled snickers. "Don't you know that littering is bad for the environment?! Pick this rubbish up!"

After a tense moment of listening to nothing but cackling, Celes felt strong hands grip by her shoulders and watched as her perspective of the world returned to normal. Well, as normal as it could get. Kefka was still present and his eyes were still those of a crazy person.

"Murder she says," he giggled as he caressed her cheek. She roughly turned her head away from his violating touch. "Hypocrite much, Ice Queen?" Another giggle. "The sacker of Maranda! She who freezes the hearts of men!"

Celes involuntarily winced at the mention of her unofficial titles. It hadn't been her fault that men needlessly threw their unwanted affections at her. And Maranda… She didn't want to remember that disaster.

"Alas, the tragedy of Doma! Those poor fools became something more as they perished!" Kefka theatrically sang as he paced. "They became art! They sang to me of their woes! Their pains! Their frustrations! It was the greatest of the greatest operas!" He uncharacteristically fell into silence as he regarded the raging fire nearby. "Perhaps…"

A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told Celes that she wasn't going to like where this situation was heading. Kefka slowly turned toward her enough to stare at her from the corner of his eye, a slow grin spreading across his lips. With the way the flickering shadows fell across his face, she genuinely felt scared. Rarely did she feel fear.

"Perhaps you'd like to sing for me, my dear," he said with a hint of lust. It wasn't a request; it was a demand, and that made all the difference. He cackled and rubbed his long, grimy hands together. "Sing of your woes! Your pains! Your frustrations! Sing as I choke your veins with the very poison you detest!" The cackling doubled in intensity as he pulled a vial of purple liquid from under his billowing cape.

In response, Celes struggled against her binds and the massive brute holding her just out of reach of solid ground. She spat once more at her free-range adversary, the pitch going wide in a foul. "Do what you will!" she growled. "But what will the Emperor say when he finds out I'm dead? What excuse could you possibly feed him?"

Kefka's grin went even wider as he pulled the cork off the vial. In a singsong manner, he said, "'I must apologize, my liege, but I uncovered a nefarious plot against you! Your dear General Celes, dead!' I'd say! 'Why, oh, why, dear sweet Kefka?!' he'd exclaim quite concerned." He cackled again as he swung his arms wide. Bits of the poison spilled out and, to Celes' horror, immediately killed patches of grass. "'A vile, nasty, nefarious plot, sir! Alas! Poor Celes! Betrayed us for the Returners! Betrayed you, my liege! Betrayed you for a gaggle of ragtag ruffians! Alas, poor sweet Celes! Talk sense into her I tried, but… Wo unto me! Killed her I had to! She threatened everything this Empire stands for! Everything you stand for!'"

When Kefka hovered his face a mere hair's breadth from hers, Celes attempted to lean back. Of course, it was hard to do so when being held up against one's will. He glared daggers at her as he whispered harshly, "And believe me he would because unlike you, General, unlike that goody-two-shoes Leo, I am his most trusted adviser!" Using his free hand, he abruptly backhanded her across the face. She squealed and wished that her feet were free so that she could kick him in the balls. In her ear, he finalized his tirade with a whispered, "I, as a good and loyal servant, merely saw that the Emperor's will be done. Besides, how do you think it would have looked on my part if I, a lowly jester, had refused the order for their untimely demises? Your…untimely demise? Hmm?"

Her untimely demise? Celes was at a loss for words. She honestly had no idea on how to respond to this tirade or even to the accusation of the Emperor being behind something as heinous as the deaths of helpless women and children. Her own predicament she could understand; it was the Imperial Way, kill them before they defect. Sending her to South Figaro had just been a teaser. They had never intended to let her go any closer to Castle Figaro. It had been false hope, and, like a chump, she had believed it.

When Kefka turned his back to her with a laugh and a wave of his hand, she knew what was coming. The aching jaw had been just a taste. "Boys," he said, "show the girl what the Emperor does to traitors."

Celes choked out "You sonova-!" before she was overrun by the Royal Guard and her stomach malformed into a well-used punching bag. Every punch felt as if she were being hit with a battering ram. As soon as one was over, the next popped up to replace it. She lost track of events in a sea burning until the men assigned under her joined in, and even then, every hit, every burst of pain felt incrementally worse, like falling down the side of the world's tallest mountain. Every strike doubly felt as if they were punching her in the heart.

Some of these men had been with her from the very beginning of her career, following her to hell and back in defending Vector from Returner attacks and The Maranda Uprising. She wanted to ask why they'd pull a dick move and turn on her, but there was no need. They feared Kefka more than her. She only threatened kicks to the balls and rarely followed through. Kefka, on the other hand, had a recipe for testicular guacamole not to be taken lightly. He always followed through and always without warning. Sometimes for no reason.

When the barrage finally ended, Celes slumped in her captor's grip, tried mentally to block out the sharp pain, and blatantly ignored the tears rolling down her face. One last soldier approached and gave her one last swift punch to the gut that produced a painful coughing fit. She understood now why they removed her armor beforehand, not only for shaming but this as well. She spat red-tinged fluid once her lungs decided to stop spasming. How bloody fantastic. She may have been beaten, but she certainly wasn't broken. "That all you got, mate?" she weakly slurred. A grin popped into place and laughter rang out in-between pain-riddled coughs. She stared him down from under sweat-matted strands of hair. If her defiance surprised him, he didn't show it from behind his sneering grin. "Why don't you give me some more, ya fuckin' wanker? And since you're fuckin' me, a bouquet of bloody flowers would be nice, too."

Nervous laughter traveled amongst her soldiers, and she knew why. Just like the Ice Queen to want more, and that intimidated them. If the Royal Guard felt the same, it was hard to tell. Their elaborate masks and robes prevented their faces from being seen.

Kefka finally laughed a shrill cackling that echoed throughout the forest. "Oh, I most certainly can, my dear!" he said excitedly, his grin eating up even more of his face. "But for the moment, I need to discuss some things with your playmates, so just…" He laughed again. "…relax."

The laughing continued long after Celes's perspective to the ground turned intimate. She landed on her stomach and cried out from the sharp pain shooting throughout her body. Every breath was a new adventure in a new world shrouded in a haze of agony. As the fog faded, she became aware of low, excited talking. She could have sworn that she heard the words "Returner scum," "captive," and "South Figaro," but it was hard to tell if she was hallucinating or even if she heard things properly over her own raspy breathing. She tried to turn herself around to get a better view, but the aching in her all over kept her in position.

Without warning, Kefka's curled shoes appeared before her eyes and burst into laughter and dance. "Well!" they exclaimed. "It would seem that our secret mission into Narshe was a success!"

Celes once again found her perspective involuntarily changing and nearly gagged when Kefka started dancing with her. 'Dragged about' probably described the baffling and rather painful situation the most accurate. All he did was swing her from side to side and in circles, and, after he had his fill, he let go mid-swing, discarding her like yesterday's newspaper. The landing was painful enough that she had to adopt a fetal position to lessen the throbbing sting, for what little good it did.

Kefka said, "And my little pet! Who would have thought that she harbored such power?!" Again, his shoes cackled like a lunatic. Little pet? Surely he didn't mean- "Oooh! So exciting! And a bonus! A Returner spy for me to interrogate!"

Celes gritted her teeth and pathetically whimpered when he forced her into a sitting position by yanking her hair.

He whispered theatrically into her ear, "Today is your lucky day, my dear! Be happy! As a celebration, I'll allow the men to do to you as they please! This poison…" He licked his lips hungrily before throwing her back to the ground, the world once again turning sideways. "I think I'll keep for my new friend who will be arriving in South Figaro for me to entertain soon." He giggled quietly before he and the Royal Guard disappeared from sight altogether. "Ta ta!"

Kefka was gone. Bloody good riddance.

There was no time to let the pain or the humiliation she suffered bring her down. Celes needed to escape, but after a quick reconnaissance, she learned real quick that an entire battalion still surrounded her. A technicality, of course, and one that wasn't in her favor. However, from what she could see, none of them were paying her any attention. A group was stationed nearby, assumedly to keep watch over her, but they were more engrossed in their game of Triple Triad. Overall, this was a terrible situation, but it was one that could still be overcome with a plan of action in hand.

First thing to do, use ice magic to break through these ropes. Second thing to do, escape. Third, seek out assistance from King Edgar Figaro. It was no secret in the Empire that he was 'secretly' a Returner. He was as bad a liar as he was a womanizer, but he was the kind of assistance that she needed. The only reason the Emperor let him run free was due to his scary intelligence with machines and engineering that wasn't related to MagiTek technology. Or, perhaps she could jump into the Returners' good graces by rescuing their operative straight off the bat?

In your underwear and injured? Her internal voice laughed at her. You're a bloody loony.

Celes silently scoffed and focused on her task despite the pain. Even if she failed to save the operative, she could still be useful to the Returners. The number of Imperial trade secrets she had been privy to, the weaknesses of the various MagiTek machines that she knew about, hell, even her magic. But…

Once a traitor, always a traitor.

She scoffed at her pessimistic side. Either way, it didn't matter. She had no intentions of sticking around to find out what else the Empire had in store for her. With Kefka and his Royal Guard gone she could make her escape. None of these men were MagiTek Knights like her so she could work her magic, and no one'd be the wiser. Still, even if she did bust loose, she'd be noticed and would have to fight her way out. She was in no condition for that. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she could stand, let alone crawl, but her desire to vacate the premises was greater than the need to remain. The air around her fingertips rapidly chilled as a sharpened icicle formed within her grasp.

Suddenly, an odd thought occurred: Knights typically rescued princesses. So, who rescued the knights when the knights were in trouble? The princesses? She wished a princess would show up right about now, which prompted her internal voice to laugh at her again. As if such a thing like that would happen.

Celes sternly watched the group of soldiers nearby as she sawed through the ropes with her frozen knife. Kefka had been right, in a way, to brand her as a traitor. She'd make him regret turning her into an enemy. It was too bad that she couldn't stomp up to the Emperor himself, hand in her resignation, and tell him just what she thought of- A portion of the rope snapped, loosening its grasp on her. Not much longer now. If she made it out of here unscathed, the first thing she was going to do was drink herself stupid in celebration of her dumb luck. Another rope snapped. Wait. Safety first, then drinking. Hell, she still had to think of a way to get her feet unbound without being noticed.

When the last of the rope binding her wrists came free, her worst fears of the situation came to light. The soldiers that had been playing cards had been paying attention to her after all. Or maybe they just now were wanting to mess with her.

"Seriously, Ice Queen," one of them sneered. "I've gotta know. What exactly were you trying to accomplish?"

He looked just like the others with his face hidden behind his helmet, but the voice was unmistakable. Seifer Almasy, a formidable soldier who severely lacked social constructs. He had been a thorn in her side for years with attempts to get her out of her pants and into his. A punch to the jaw and a shouted 'piss off' only made his disposition towards her even worse. Their feuding had been so bad that General Leo had them separated at one point. There was no mistaking; Kefka had brought him here on purpose.

He continued with multiple layers of snark, "Did you really think that Lord Kefka'd let you slander his good name and get away with it?"

Slander? She was going to do more than slander. Celes chose to ignore his questions and responded with an ice-loaded glare. This prompted laughter from the group.

"Oi, Seifer," chuckled one of the others, "I think she's gettin' aggro."

Seifer's tight grip encapsulated her jaw, forcing her to her knees. What was with everyone wanting to touch her damn face today? "I don't care if she is or not!" Seifer hissed. "Whaddaya say, mateys? Should we find out how cold the Ice Queen really is?" This earned laughter from the group.

Celes, having other ideas, swiftly brought the blunt end of her ice weapon up into Seifer's not so secured groinal area, immediately securing a release. As he went down with a girlish cry, the other two in the group drew their swords. She quickly threw her ice dagger at one, catching him in the chest and knocking him down, and froze the other to the ground with a speedy Hadouken of ice magic.

She didn't have much time. Surely, this scuffle had been noticed and would be investigated by other soldiers, screwing her chances horribly. She worked on undoing the binds on her legs as quickly as she could, but her hurried panic, the sting in her stomach, and a sudden powerful niggling in the back of her head made it difficult to focus. What the hell was that infernal buzzing?!

After some fumbling, she had finally reached the last knot at her ankles, but a sword pointed at her nose made her reconsider touching it. "Oi! I wouldn't move another muscle, Queenie." She followed the high-pitched voice and trembling blade upwards to find Seifer scowling at her from behind it. For whatever reason, he had undone his trousers and gestured to the opening with his free hand. "I think you need to kiss it all better. It's bad form to bash a bloke in the balls, you know."

Celes briefly considered creating another ice dagger and ramming it up point first. See how much he'd like that. But the campfire burning behind him soon attracted her attention. It had tripled in size and started throwing out sparks that had set ablaze several of the soldiers who had been lounging around it. Then there was the screaming from the sky. It was piercing and loud, almost reminiscent of a cat dangling from a window by its caught tail. She looked up in time to see, for a split second, what looked like a flaming pink cat dive-bomb their location like a meteor. Several soldiers did cry out warnings, but too little, too late.

A fiery explosion engulfed the entire clearing and was powerful enough to send Celes and everything else skidding several inches across the ground. Because of the dusty haze and being flat on her back, she couldn't see what was happening, but that hadn't affected her hearing.

"What the bloody hell was that?!" said one soldier followed by the sounds of drawn swords.

"Some kind of flaming pink cat thing?" said another followed by more drawn swords.

Celes brought herself to a sitting position and couldn't believe what was happening around her. Seifer and his group had abandoned her to join the other soldiers in surrounding what looked like something out of an War of the Magi fairy tale. The humanoid cat beast raised itself from its crouching position and stared down the entire company of confused soldiers with a slow turn of its, no, her head. In her clawed hand, she held a small magical ball of fire. Rather than outright attack, this creature flipped her lavender hair from her face and followed up by casting a sidelong glance in Celes' direction.

Celes couldn't figure out whether she should have felt relieved or threatened. Instead, she continued staring slack-jawed at the creature's beauty. In the back of her mind, familiarity tried saying hello, but that was impossible.

"All right, mateys. Who ordered the fuzzy hooker for me birthday?" Seifer quipped nonchalantly. This incited laughter from the group.

"Right, mate?" said another. "Who needs the bloody Ice Queen when we've got a sexy Fire Kitty?" This prompted more laughter.

In response, the creature raised a slender arm and sent her flame ball on a mission of setting chuckling soldiers on fire. The explosion sent them flying in all directions, whole and in pieces. The ones who hadn't been hit fell back to what they presumed to be a safe distance. Except one. Seifer rushed forward and tried gutting her. The tactic would have worked if the creature hadn't somersaulted over his head, grabbed him by the shoulders, and sent him flying hard and fast. He flew over Celes' position and smashed into a tree some distance away with a sickening snap and a gurgle.

Well, so much for him being a problem in the future.

All hell broke loose at this point, as the entire leaderless battalion tried attacking the creature all at once. Wanting to put as much distance between herself and the chaos, Celes scrambled away. She didn't get very far with her stomach screaming at her or with the rope tripping her up, but was able to collapse behind a nearby tree and subsequently prayed that she was out of the danger zone. She could have made a break for it, but curiosity wasn't letting her. She had to know what this creature was.

She poked her head around the tree trunk to watch in awe as the lithe creature did nothing more to attack the soldiers; she simply dodged all of their attacks and used the chaos of the situation to trick them into attacking themselves. Her movements were fluid and quick, almost like a dance. The only way to explain it was powerful magic emanating in pulses so substantial that no matter how much she wanted to look away she couldn't.

She was enraptured by this…beautiful creature.

One blink and the battle was over with the snap of a neck. Celes stared wide-eyed as the creature let the last soldier fall before observing the carnage she had taken part. A deafening quiet soon fell over the forest. Fifty soldiers, dead in less time than it would take to skip a rock across a pond. Blood coated the ground like spilled paint. Throughout the entire clearing, the bodies of the Imperial soldiers lay gutted, burnt, and soiled with their own excrement. A smoky haze added to the dark and gloomy sight. The only space that seemed to have been spared the chaos had been Celes' own. She could do nothing but stare with her mouth agape in shock.

The creature licked at one of its wrists briefly before once again acknowledging Celes' presence with a side-long stare. Or perhaps, psychological mind-fuckery was at work. Either way, Celes swore under her breath and considered her options, of which she had very little. But intense familiarity made her hesitate. The shape of those eyes and that nose. The thinness of the lips. If it hadn't been for the non-human features, the ears, teeth, and fur, she could have sworn it was someone she knew.

The little girl in the back of her mind swooned so hard it was embarrassing. A princess in shining, fuzzy nakedness had come to her rescue! The stone cold general, the one usually in charge, wanted nothing to do with any of it. Still, even the general couldn't look away; it was all too bloody confusing.

The creature sauntered towards her, prompting Celes to struggle to her feet and use the tree to keep upright. "Stay back!" she said with a slight waver. "I'm not like the others! I can use magic!" Oh, that was smart. If the creature was hostile, she had just blown her element of surprise. Hell, she didn't even know if the approaching cat-woman was intelligent or not.

The creature stopped within an arm's reach and cocked her head to one side as she looked Celes up and down. No, it obviously was intelligent; the question was 'Did it speak Vectorian.' Despite the carnage that had just occurred, Celes couldn't help but find this person/thing—What was the right word?—adorable?

She yelped with surprise when strong arms and a lithe body pinned her to the tree. Staring into burning red eyes presented no blazing malice, not like before. Now they shone with the kind of warmth that one would find in a loving home with a cozy kitchen. The cat-woman's fur was also surprisingly soft, almost like phoenix down^[1], and invoked a scent very reminiscent of strawberries^[2]; an odd thing to be reminded of considering the heavy smell of copper and ash in the air. It was intoxicating, much like the magical field that now encapsulated her.

The more this creature dominated her, the more Celes wanted. The more she stared into those eyes, the more she became convinced of a familiar presence, but who continued to elude her. Was she being charmed? "What…do you want from me?" she managed to stammer out.

The creature responded by flattening itself onto her and kissing her. Not knowing what to do, Celes closed her eyes and froze in hopes that the ordeal would be over quickly. But familiarity and a certain swooning ego in the back of head shoved that desire aside and had her responding in kind. The powerful magic buzzing in the air certainly wasn't helping things.

In her mind's eye, the cat-woman changed her likeness into that of a human and one that was immediately recognizable. That mass of lavender hair turned to a shade of grass green, burning eyes cooled to expressive emerald green, the cutest little button nose lost its white fur and pink tip, the biggest and softest heart she had ever met formed on an arm like a sleeve. There was no mistaking it. It was almost as if it was Ter-

The confusing and blissful spell was broken with a sudden and slurred, "I'm tired…"

The strength and powerful magic subsided, disappeared, and left Celes kissing not a long-lost mythological creature, but the very girl she had imagined in her head. Her long-lost final fantasy—no—friend. "Terra?" In her surprise, her hold slackened, and the naked girl collapsed to the ground with a dull thud. She remained leaning against the tree and wracked her mind to work out what the hell had just happened. This had flown completely from out of left field.

Celes eased herself into a painful kneeling position beside the unconscious Terra and took a moment to look her over. It had been nearly a year and a half since she last seen her friend, and things were definitely different about her. She was emaciated, so much weight lost, and her body covered in a roadmap of scarring. She looked sickly and needed medical attention. Even more of a reason to get to Figaro Castle as quickly as possible. And if Terra truly had been that creature, then chances were high that Kefka had felt her powerful magical field. She did not want to be around if and/or when he returned.

Celes wandered the remains of her camp in search of undamaged supplies and clothing. Sadly, near everything had been incinerated and damaged in some way. All she had been able to procure had been a canteen of water, a single sleeping bag, and a pack to carry them in. She sourly looked to the chocobo^[3] kennels to find them either empty or containing dead mounts. Poor things must've been so scared with the fighting.

Unfortunately, they were traveling on foot.

As she passed through the site where Terra initially made impact with the ground, her bare foot struck something metallic embedded in the dirt. After several choice curse words and short time hopping on one foot, she uncovered the object and was rewarded with a tiara – Terra's tiara. Even though it was half melted, slightly twisted, and missing several of its gemstones, there was no mistaking it. She didn't understand why Terra had even started wearing the gaudy thing in the first place, especially since she had never been one for headgear. She shoved it in her pack and made it a point to ask Edgar about it when or if she reached the castle.

Celes paused before trying to pick Terra up. Not only was she dreading the pain her stomach would be screaming about, but she found it hard to believe that in wishing for a savior in a bad situation, one just happened to fall from the sky. It was especially hard to believe considering that savior was someone she had written off some time ago.

Ignoring the stinging and the cramping in her stomach, Celes lifted Terra into her arms and slowly made off in the direction she hoped was South Figaro. As much as she hated thinking it, she was glad Terra was skin and bones, otherwise, she'd never be able to support her. But once they reached civilization, she was going to make that girl eat a damn sandwich. Or ten. What the hell had Kefka done to her while she'd been under his leadership? Terra used to have curves in all the- She shook the thought from her head. First safety, then she could daydream about other things.

As they slipped into the covering darkness of the forest, Celes couldn't help but whisper, "What the bloody hell are you doing out here?"

^[1] Birds of a flaming feather flock together, as they say.^[return]

^[2] Every woman has a particular fruity smell that catches someone's attention. Why this is, the world can speculate. Why always fruit, the world may never know.^[return]

^[3] Large ostrich-like birds used as pack animals and transportation, much like the real world equivalent donkey and horse. The birds are known for usually being named 'Choco' or 'Boko' and having chirps that sound like a child screaming "wark" at the top of his lungs.^[return]

Chapter Text

Terra Branford had spent much of her childhood locked up in a room where scary men in thick glasses and long, white coats would poke and prod her with various instruments and machines. Rarely did she partake in activities that most people would take for granted, such as sleeping, bathing, and even eating. Usually that lack of participation wasn't by choice. How she survived, she could only guess. How she had ended up there, she couldn't remember. How long she had been there, she didn't know. With the same thing happening every day, with no additional change in scenery, the days blurred together.

At some point in her young age, a tall, dark-skinned man, introducing himself as Leo, put himself between her and the men in white coats. The aftermath was still quite clear, despite the effect of time. The two of them walking down a sterile metallic hallway. He in the lead, Terra one step behind due to wobbly disused legs. The warmth of her new clothes, socks, and shoes. His smell of tobacco, sweat, and shoe polish. The softness and squeezability of her new stuffed friend, Mr. Oogly-Moogly the moogle, a gift given to her to, as Leo had put it, "commemorate your new-found freedom."

At the time, Terra hadn't understood what commemorate meant, but did understand the basics of freedom. Locked rooms no longer confined her! Needles were a thing of the past! Darkness could be forgotten! Anyone wanting her to set fire to something could sod off. She was in control! And Leo only requested she pledge her allergies to the Emperor!

No. Wait.

She had to pledge her allied gents?

No… That wasn't right either.

She had to pledge something to the Emperor whatever that something was. It was quite possible he had wanted her allegiance, something she had quite willingly given, despite not knowing what it was, just for a taste of freedom. And then to have both of those ripped from her by force…

But we're getting ahead of ourselves. Let's backtrack a bit.

Leo had explained to her that he was a General and that he wanted her to join the Empire's youth academy for schooling and defense training. He had also said that it had been the idea of some man named 'The Emperor,' a thank you for allowing them to study her magic. They both wanted to help her achieve the skills and confidence to shed her troubled days as a scientific experiment. Leo in particular wanted her to become a stable and productive member of their proud Vectorian society.

The youth academy itself was typically reserved for orphans with nowhere to go and troubled children of dubious backgrounds and talents. As none of the other children that she'd be joining were unique in the same aspect as her, i.e. magic, she had been urged to keep her abilities a secret to everybody. After the hell of living as a science experiment, Terra had no qualms with lying about it. However, that fire was a part of who she was and being a small, scared, and slightly inquisitive child she just had to ask, "Why?"

Leo had only smiled and taken her tiny hand in his as they continued down that seemingly never-ending hallway. "It's for their protection more so than your own, my dear," he had said. "Besides, it would be more prudent for you to learn swordplay. Magic will not always be able to protect you." Terra hadn't understood what that had meant then, but it was a lesson she'd later learn, and one that would leave her all alone.

And alone was how Terra now found herself. At some point, the metal walls of the laboratories had faded away to that of a foggy green forest. Her hand had suddenly had gone very cold, a feeling that hadn't been misjudged. General Leo was nowhere to be seen.

"Leo?" she called before immediately clamping a hand over her mouth. That voice that had come out was one that wasn't hers, yet was. Further investigation of her surroundings had her questioning whether the trees had shrunk and left her vigorously shaking her head to order the chaos. One issue at a time! Leo disappeared, her voice deepened (yet was still squeaky), and the forest around her was shrinking. She squeezed the now tattered Mr. Oogly-Moogly tighter in hopes that it would bring her comfort. What could possibly happen next?

"General Leo?" she called again with caution. Again, there was no response, not even the stereotypical forestry echo. All she heard, over the ringing in her ears, was a noise coming from deeper within. It wasn't just a noise; it was a gaggle of noises, almost like a glaring of cats trying to speak like people. 'Kupo?' Where had she heard that before?

Terra took slow steps in the direction of the chatter, all the while consciously refraining from making a sound. Hopefully, this wasn't a monster looking for lunch or a maniac looking to snag her gil purse, a gil purse filled to the brim with no gil. If this were a thief, he'd be in for quite a surprise.

When she arrived at the area she thought she had heard the voices from, she discovered that there was nothing to be found. And yet the chatter was louder now than it had been before and assaulted her with pepperings from all sides. A snapping twig from behind sent her spinning in that direction to find, again, nothing. Her eyes darted around the landscape, but all she could find were trees, trees, brush, and trees.

A tug on her dress gave her enough of a start that she squealed loudly and nearly lost control of her bladder. She spun around and, at first glance, found no one behind her until a second tug brought her attention to her knees. A short, winged teddy bear of the white fur variety grinned widely at her. Its bright red pom-pom protruding from its head bobbed happily as its head moved.

Terra's mouth worked in silent exclamation as realization smacked her across the face. A moogle! A real life moogle!^[1] She squealed once more before scooping the little guy up in a hug so tight she nearly crushed it. "You're so cute!" she cooed. "I could just eat you!"

The moogle smacked her across the face with a paw, the surprise freeing it of her death grip. It hopped to the ground before looking up at her. Its solid black eyes twinkled in the dim sunlight filtering through the canopy, and with what sounded like a female voice said, "Terra, kupo!"

This gave Terra a reason to pause. How did the moogle know her name? Actually, since when could moogles speak like people? She frowned down at it and tried depuzzling this puzzle. She'd either found the seventh wonder of the world or she was dreaming.

The little guy folded its little arms across its little chest and again grinned up to her. "Terra, kupo! Wake up! Kupopopo!"

What? Wake up? But she wasn't-- Oh, right. She was.

Aside from the moon's light filtering in from the nearby window, it was near pitch black when Terra begrudgingly opened her eyes. She was in her bunk in the cadets' quarters. Dincht's snoring assaulted her ears like a freight train through paper. A silhouette loomed over her, and a rather drunken one at that based on the pungent smell of rum assaulting her nose. She turned to bury her face into her pillow like a chocobo with its head in the sand to escape the stench. With the familiarity of the shadow and the smell, she could only come to one conclusion. Celes had been drinking again.

"Terra…" Celes' whispered voice was uncharacteristically sing-song like. Normally, she was gruff and no-nonsense, or at least it was how she presented herself. "C'mon, mate! Get up!"

Terra grumbled her exhaustion. Couldn't this wait until morning?

Celes, however, had other ideas. She ripped the covers off the bed and tried pulling Terra off by her arm. Sadly, with her coordination dulled, all she managed to do was pull herself down on the mattress. "Oi! I want to talk to you!"

Terra sighed as a warm body snuggled up close to her and giggles filled her ears. The coolness of a glass bottle rubbed up against her bare thigh, forcing a startled yelp out into her pillow. Now wide awake, she sat on her knees and quickly scouted the area. None of the other cadets appeared to be awake or aware of what was transpiring. They were snoozing away quite complacently, despite Dincht rattling the windows.

How jealous she was of them.

Terra turned her attention to the drunk in her bed. Celes was cutely splayed out, one arm dangling over the side of the bed, booze bottle cradled in the other, a grin of blissful stupidity. It was as adorable as it was strange. And slightly intriguing, especially considering that she wasn't wearing pajama pants or upper body support. Well, neither was Terra, but she wasn't climbing into someone else's bed drunk as a monk. Still, she never would have thought that Celes would be into pink hearts.

"What's wrong, Celes?" Terra whispered. The last thing they needed was for anyone to wake up. Breaking curfew was not taken lightly. Of course, it wasn't like anyone could hear anything over the snoring. "Is everything okay?"

Celes sat up (after a few attempts) and placed a warm calloused finger on Terra's lips. "Shhh…" she whispered with a slur. "Not here, hey."

It hadn't been until she had been led outside by the hand did Terra question their destination. Celes only shushed her and continued driving them beyond the loosely guarded gates of the academy compound, straight into the outskirts of Vector and into the night. They followed the paved road, barefoot, for a silent eternity before slipping off onto a path lesser traveled where the waist high grass tickled Terra's bare thighs. The same must have been happening to Celes, unless her uncontrollable giggling was due to some other reason.

"Where are we going?" Terra repeated as she tried her best not to slip on the dew-wet grass. Bare feet and slippery vegetation certainly did not mix. She'd have to remember that the next time Celes decided to take her on a half-naked night-time adventure.

Celes cackled like a lunatic, a familiar sound when blitzed off her rocker. "Old man Ironsides said I wouldn't graduate." She took several long gulps from her bottle of booze before trying to wink. Said wink ended up looking more like her entire face collapsed in on itself and somehow, by defying all known laws of physics, managed to pop back into place. It was as if the wink factory had a hiccup in the manufacturing process. It took all of Terra's resolve not to laugh out loud. "Well, I'm graduating top of the class, with honors, and the Emperor wants to make me General! So--" Celes blew a raspberry. "--him. And because he was such a huge pain in the bloody arse the last eight years, I broke into his liquor cabinet." She seemed prouder of that fact than graduating with honors and being promoted straight to general.

Terra couldn't help but chuckle. Instructor Ironsides certainly was a grumpy old man, but he was the way he was because he had already dealt with his share of bullshit and didn't need any more from a bunch of kids. Still, that didn't explain Celes' kittenish behavior nor where they were going. Did he get under her skin that much or was it something else?

"But he also said that I'd be better suited as a candy striper," Terra said. Of course, she wouldn't mind that. She'd rather use her magic to heal than destroy. Hopefully, in her new post-academy role she'd be doing just that. She just hoped she didn't have to wear a ridiculous uniform that made her look like a giant candy cane.

Celes snorted with laughter and hugged Terra to remain upright. "You're too cute…" she dreamily murmured as she cupped a cheek. For a moment, it looked as if she were going to… No, couldn't have been. She'd known Celes for a long time, and this was something new. Both the comment and the action caused Terra to burn with something akin to embarrassment. In a way, she was almost disappointed it hadn't panned out to where she thought it would.

Celes chuckled again. She broke the embrace to lead them further down the path. "He called you a 'candy arsed stripper,' sweetheart."

Sweetheart? Terra wasn't sure if it showed on her face, but this puzzled her. In all their years as being friends Celes had never called that. It was just the alcohol drastically changing her demeanor, right?

"Besides," she continued, "you showed him, hey. Graduating with the distinction of being the only woman—hell, person proficient in the Empire as a triple wielder. Dual swords plus magic… I can't even bloody do that."

A tickle under her underwear brought to Terra' attention Celes' arm around the small of her back and a hand on her hip. Terra had to look again to make sure she hadn't seen things. Yup. A hand had most certainly snuck in under her pan-- "Celes? Is there a reason you have your hand in my knickers? I mean, I don't mind, but…" It was odd and exciting at the same time.

An awkward silence followed before Celes sheepishly grinned and removed the offending hand. "Sorry, mate," she said as she rubbed the back of her head. "I'm not really sure what happened there."

Terra mirrored the grin and leaned in close to Celes' face. The probability of sobriety downing in half a bottle's worth of booze was high, so Terra couldn't one hundred percent hold Celes accountable for her actions, playful though they may be. But it was incredible that she could still string together full coherent sentences. "And I suppose that it's the alcohol that's to blame."

"You can say that, mate."

The look on Celes' face dropped instantly when Terra said, "They say that people drink to run away, forget, or both. So, what are you running away from to forget about?" She poked her on the nose. "Something in that past you won't share with me?"

"I--" Celes refused eye contact and simply stared at the ground as they walked along. "I'm not running from anyone or anything," she said before taking a swig from her bottle. "You also won't share your past, so don't get all high and mighty."

And she wasn't going to. Not yet, anyway. "Touché." Terra laughed. "Then where are we going?"

A grin reemerged the depths of Celes' frown as well as a wink. "It's a mystery." She took Terra's hand in hers once again and hurried them down the old dirt road and its many twists and turns.

Rarely had Terra's adventures in the academy taken her just outside the city, maybe once or twice, so she had never really seen this part of rural Vector. At least, she had never seen it quite as she saw it tonight. Sure, she had seen the full moon bathe the landscape in its silvery glow before. She had also heard silence so deafening that she could hear the grass whisper to her. And the stars were in the same place as they were every night. But for some reason, everything looked different, felt different. Every other time she had been on the clock and never had the time to bask in nature's glory despite wanting to. She looked to the moon and held her arms out to soak up its energy. She still couldn't tell what the grass was whispering to her, but she suspected that it had something to do with the distraction of Celes' adorable drunken giggling and the occasional stray touch at her hip. And the stars, they were just as beautiful as they had been the first time she had seen them after her release from that laboratory all those years ago. To her, it looked as if someone had littered the sky with twinkling diamond dust.

It hadn't been long before Celes brought them to a small lake just off the beaten path nestled in the valley just outside the city. The two of them stood hand-in-hand on a high rocky bank overlooking the water. Terra gasped at the beauty of it, since no words could do it justice. The meadow beyond the lake rolled on for as far as the eye could see; the grass still whispering, but now dancing to its own tune. It all was capped and footed by a thin silvery fog that twirled about on the lake's surface, where, below her feet, the watery reflection was so clear it was like looking in a mirror. She could reach down through the portal and touch herself.

Terra couldn't wipe the smile from her face even if she wanted. "It's beautiful," she said with awe.

Celes returned the beam and sat down on the rocky overhang, her legs dangling over the water. After Terra joined her, she took another drink from her bottle. "It's why I brought you out here, hey," she said. "Figured you'd enjoy it."

"Well, that explains waking me up," Terra said. "But not the alcohol. If you're not running or trying to forget something, why the drinking?"

Celes sighed and leaned onto Terra's shoulder. "Because," she slurred, "I need courage."

Of course. Being promoted straight away so soon after graduation surely wasn't a simple matter to swallow whole. Terra could only imagine what was riding on Celes' shoulders, especially after the Emperor had paraded her in front of all of Vector with a speech. She didn't remember it all, but he had said things like "dawn of a new era" and "controlling magic for the good of the world." He then had followed that up by announcing Celes as the newest and youngest General of the Imperial forces. If she had been in those shoes, she'd be suffering from alcohol poisoning.

Terra gently rubbed Celes on the back before giving her a gentle squeeze. "You'll do fine in command," she said. "Most everyone respects you."

Celes snorted and continued to stare forlornly out at the lake. "That's…not what I need courage for," she slurred. "I've never been afraid of anything in my entire life, but when it comes to this, I choke up and lose my nerve."

Terra took a moment to wait for Celes to continue. When that failed, she forced eye contact. "Then what's wrong? This isn't like you, hey. Talk to me. I'm your friend." She watched as Celes broke eye contact to study the liquor bottle in her hand. It was a bit late to examine the label; more than half had gone belly-up. Her reluctance to speak filled Terra with dread. Was it her? Had she done something wrong? Had she made Celes sad somehow?

Celes took another drink before turning to study Terra. It was shocking to see tears collecting in the corners of her eyes. "I need to tell you something," she said. "It's the real reason I brought you out here. And please don't interrupt me, hey, because I…" She took a deep breath and then another drink. "I'm afraid and I don't think I'll be able to ever do this again."

Terra nodded and took a trembling hand in hers in a show of support. They had been friends since they met years ago in the academy where Celes had been the only person not to judge her because of hair color, shyness, or magical ability, especially after the incident of setting that what's-his-name's clothes on fire. Maybe it was because of Celes' over-protective nature. Maybe it had been because of their similarities and the things they had in common. But with Celes becoming a MagiTek General and Terra taking a role as a personal guard for Court Mage Kefka the possibility of the two of them having to go their separate ways was high. Perhaps this realization was causing Celes' overly sentimental and emotional state. Frankly, Terra wasn't happy about it either; Celes was her entire world.

Since this was the first time Terra had ever seen Celes this afraid of just talking, she remained patient as words fought for existence. So far, the only coherency had been Terra's name and the word 'I' repeated several times. She finally took pity and summed up what she thought was trying to be said. "You're afraid of us going separate ways, aren't you?"

Celes shook her head and mumbled, "No, I…" She stared at the bottle of rum in her hand once more before angrily tossing it over her shoulder. "Fuck it!" she muttered tersely.

Before Terra knew what had happened, Celes was kissing her, one hand tangled in her hair and the other on her thigh; the touch was gentle and warm, a stark contrast from the usual rough and cold demeanor. If time hadn't stopped, it certainly mimicked that of a blind, deaf, and dumb turtle, with Terra being the turtle. Everything around her dulled as she lost focus on her surroundings. All she could concentrate on was the softness of Celes' lips as they pressed against hers, Celes' golden hair entangling with her own, the warmth radiating from everywhere on her body that Celes touched, the rapid beating of hearts twain. There was a feeling in her heart that told her that she didn't want the moment to end, but then there was the strong smell of alcohol on Celes' breath that broke the moment. It couldn't be helped; Terra's nose wrinkled up in reflex.

Celes, the poor thing, was absolutely mortified. "Oh, god! This--" she stammered. "I'm so sorry! I didn't intend-- I should have realized that you weren't--"

Terra shushed the panicking Celes with a smile and a finger to the lips. "It's okay," she soothed. She chuckled and touched their foreheads together. Their noses were touching as well; lips weren't too far behind. Even up close and unfocused, her gaze could not be torn from those sparkling blue eyes. For the first time since they had met, the emotional walls behind them had crumbled away, leaving behind windows into Celes' soul. If anything, it was more beautiful than the scene splayed out before them.

But…

What the hell was this aching in her heart and why was it making her head swim? Was she drowning? Or was this that one emotion that had been beyond her grasp since her days as a science experiment? This feeling, whatever it was, filled her to the brim, nearly to the point of bursting. Was it…?

"Terra?"

"Hmm?" Was Celes the one who had unlocked it? Of course, she was! That was a silly question.

"Promise me. Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll never forget me."

Terra reached up to softly caress a warm cheek. "What is this? I'm not going anywhere."

"I know, but…" Tears finally started rolling down Celes' cheeks. "I've never opened myself up to anyone before. And…I'm drunk and emotional. Please, just humor me."

"I…I can never forget you," Terra whispered. "You mean the world to me." She wasn't surprised when Celes kissed her once more. If anything, she welcomed it. It soothed the ache. It brought her to shore. She fell to her back and pulled Celes with her, all the while never breaking their connection. The weight on top of her, the hand under her shirt. She wanted more. Out of everything in her life, she had finally found something that made sense.

But that security didn't last long. After she had taken her shirt off, she was no longer in the outskirts of Vector. Instead, she was in a cold, sterile room somewhere in the Imperial Palace. And Celes was no longer Celes, but rather…Lord Kefka? He cackled as he removed himself from her personal space and clothed himself with a nearby multicolored robe.

Terra tried covering her shame but her arms wouldn't obey her commands. How had she gotten here? What happened to Celes? Why couldn't she move? She tried screaming, but nothing came out. Only she could hear her screams of terror in this nightmare. There was no way this was real! She had to be dreaming! Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!

Lord Kefka bent down over her and caressed her cheek. He whispered harshly, "You, my little pet, are perfect in every single way now that you have your crown. Don't you think so?" He cackled once more, sending Terra's stomach into her throat and forcing her to close her eyes in terror. "What do you say we test that perfection? Hmm?"

When she reopened her eyes, the terrified Terra was standing in a large room ablaze with the carnage of nightmares. Fire magic engulfed her right hand and the katana in her left, but it was wrong; she only ever held her fire in her palms. There was never need to immerse herself in it. The room surrounding her, once filled with fancy tapestries and royal insignia, started collapsing due to the intense heat of the flames engulfing it; her flames.

At her feet laid a dying samurai, her other katana bloodily protruding out of his back. "Wherefore?" he weakly choked out. "Wherefore…doth thou…wish our demise?" She didn't, but she had no way of telling him that. After a quick look around, she saw other people in similar states as him, if not worse. There were broken bones. Limbs minus bodies. Bodies minus limbs. Charred flesh. Screaming. Wailing. Blood. Laughing.

She had caused this mess. She had injured those people. How she knew she didn't remember, but the feeling was strong enough to make her retch.

"Burn! Burn! Burn!" Kefka cackled as he danced and clapped his hands. "Burn them all to a crisp!"

Terra's body jerked. Lord Kefka. It was him. He was the one who made her do all this. No more! She wasn't going to be a puppet any longer! Fire sprang up all over her body as she raged. "I won't kill anyone else!" she cried. Surprisingly, that had been her voice controlled by her and not that ugly thing on her head.

Kefka ceased his dancing to give her a dark psychotic smile. It was a smile that sent shivers of fear running the length of her spine. "Is that so?" he said with the tone of an adult to a child. "Why, it seems that you need a new tiara. Don't fret, my dear. We'll get that taken care of quick as a wink!" He laughed a high-pitched cackling laugh. "Boys, show the little girl what we do to traitors who go rogue."

Terra panicked as a sea of Imperial soldiers approached her. She didn't want to fight. She wanted to heal. She wanted Celes to save her. She wanted to run away. But there was no choice! She had to fight! Her hand was forced! Her back was against the wall! She bellowed a war cry and charged towards Kefka, completely ignoring the soldiers. This proved to be a mistake. They managed to grab her and disarm her, all while that mocking laughter reverberated in her ears.

Terra screamed her frustrations and sent her flames expanding until they filled the entire room with a raging inferno. The intense heat created a fierce updraft that whipped embers and anything that wasn't bolted down around the room like a firenado. Everyone caught within this maelstrom shouted and screamed in intense pain and terror as their flesh melted down off their bones.

Kefka, seemingly unaffected by the deadly magical heat, just stood there laughing at her. Before her fire and consciousness went out, he clucked his tongue at her and waggled his finger disapprovingly. The amount of power she had used had taken its toll.

"Temper! Temper!" Kefka said with a chuckle from the edge of the darkness. "You can kick and scream all you want, my sweet little magic user. Everyone else is expendable, but you… You belong to me."

Celes startled awake from blood-curdling shrieks of fear. It was Terra! In her hurry to scramble, her bare feet slipped on the dew-wet grass which sent her tumbling through the bush she had been hiding behind. Her stomach cried out in pain, not liking that it had been pummeled once again. Ignoring the nausea, she forced herself into the hollowed log where she had hidden Terra hours earlier. The fear stricken girl was screaming at the top of her lungs and trying to claw her way from the inside out.

Celes dragged her out into the open and reassuringly held her in her arms. "It's okay, Terra," she murmured. "I'm here." Her reassurance lowered the shrieking to crying with some unintelligible mumbling mixed in. It was all she could really do for the time being, but as Terra wailed into her shoulder, Celes couldn't help feeling relieved that it was her tank top that was in a death-grip instead of her arm.

The exact measurement of time passing had been lost, but Celes was certain that it had been at least a couple of hours. Terra had cried herself hoarse long ago and finally quieted down to faint hiccupping. The sun decided that it wanted to play a game of peek-a-boo with them from between the trees. This told Celes that she had spent her time well alternating between wishing she could get some rest and wondering what the hell had set off such a reaction from someone who, in the past, had never let her fears get the best of her. Must've been one hell of a nightmare.

Thankfully, Terra had calmed down with soft whispers, gentle caressing of her hair, and tight hugs under the warmth of a sleeping bag nest. The last thing they needed was the Empire getting the jump on them because they had followed the trail of tears. Celes leaned back against the tree they were huddled in front of and tried to get something resembling rest until she felt it, that feeling of being watched. She opened her tired eyes and found Terra staring at her with own bleary, red tinged, exhaustion. It was a look that haunted her then and one that would continue haunting her even afterward. She had never seen a look of fear on anyone's face like she had in Terra's eyes that morning. What made it worse, and what eventually made her blood run cold, was what Terra hoarsely asked of her.

"Celes, who am I?"

^[1] These winged teddy bears are a bit of a cute sasquatch. They frolic in dimly-lit, out of focus areas and are best at existing somewhere in the questionable zone between reality and the fevered dream of a madman. ^[return]

Chapter Text

Morning had arrived like a shovel to the face, quickly, painfully, and unwanted. Running purely on adrenaline up until this point in the early afternoon had left Celes cranky and exhausted. There was no time for exhaustion and, even worse, no access to coffee. They had to make it to South Figaro, save the captured Returner operative provided he/she/it was still breathing, and somehow arrive at Figaro Castle in one collective piece. They needed a bloody miracle or possibly espresso, whichever happened to happen first. Hopefully the espresso.

Celes hastily ducked behind a large bush and scrutinized the well-traveled path on the opposite side of the barrier of foliage. There didn't seem to be any Imperials or even civilians going for walks today. Just as well they stick to the oft-beaten path. Just in case. She sighed and briefly cast a glance back towards Terra as she clumsily came to a stop behind her. She looked like some mad Witch of the Wilds or like she was recovering from some two-yearlong party binge. She was thin as bone, had sunken bloodshot eyes, a wild mane of hair, a near constant frown, and was as naked as the day she was born. If she chose to use the sleeping bag as a cloak, and this was a big if, it made her look even more sad and pathetic, if that was even possible.

In the mirror in her mind, Celes imagined that she herself looked as if someone had dragged her from her bed and tossed her in the middle of a drunken tavern brawl. Her cheek still stung where Kefka had slapped her and her stomach just overall killed. Speaking of, a cramping spell in her stomach painfully made itself center of attention, forcing her to grit her teeth and double over. Bloody stomach.

"Celes, are you okay?" came a concerned squeak from behind.

"I'm fine, Terra," she said with a cough. Her lie was so thin it could be used to filter coffee, and how lovely it would be if she could have some—coffee, that is. The cramping felt like it was getting worse, but her pride told her to do everything she could to ignore it. It was hard, but she had managed so far. Hell, it was probably harder ignoring her eyelids every time they threatened to slam shut. Baldur's Gate, she wanted to take a nap somewhere, but she certainly didn't have a death wish. Getting caught out here with Kefka and the Imperial army running around would be signing a death warrant.

And Terra… Celes had always known that Terra was a little firecracker, but after that little spectacle last night, that girl certainly wasn't going back to where she had come from. Now, whether Terra could harness that power on command was a different story, but with clown-head referring to her as his pet, Celes wasn't going to take any chances.

She jumped when a small hand brushed up against her side. No matter how many times Terra did that, she still couldn't get used to it. It was some new quirk that she had picked up from who knows where. Terra knelt down beside her and clumsily mirrored looking through the foliage. Eventually, "What are you doing?" was quietly and inquisitively asked.

Under normal circumstances, Celes would have found this to be an odd question coming from someone who had grown up in the Imperial Academy. But her suspicions were high that there was some memory loss going on. Terra had no idea how she had arrived in South Figaro, why she was without clothing, what the Empire was, or even of anything that had transpired in her life. She hadn't even remembered her own name until prompted. The only thing she remembered was her fondness for Celes.

Flattery was always welcome, of course, but Terra's insistence that the two of them were close friends despite being unable to recall specifics was really puzzling. Truthfully, they hadn't spoken in nearly two years, the last being that alcohol fueled fiasco at the lake that had driven Terra away. It was at this point that all contact had been broken off, sometimes with Terra going weeks at a time without being seen by anyone. Months of trying to rekindle their friendship and meeting only silence and blank stares eventually led to Celes torching what remained of the bridge connecting them. From those ashes rose the woman with an awesome recipe for testicular guacamole Imperial men learned to fear and respect.^[1]

The Terra of now, while largely similar, did display a few minute differences to the Terra of the past. Nearly everything save Celes scared the ever-living daylights out of her. Not to mention, there was her complete and utter lack of self-esteem. Frowns were always present, not that she really had much to smile about at present. And lastly, there were the questions upon questions; questions about anything and everything. No subject taboo. It was almost as if she had reverted to childhood where innocence and curiosity reigned supreme.

Terra's presence not only was mind boggling, but also started tugging at heartstrings that Celes thought that she had burned long ago. It was confusing to think in one direction, but the heart tug in the other. Numerous times, she had found her focus drifting because of Terra's unabashed nudity and, numerous times, had to slap herself for taking advantage of the disadvantage. She wanted to hold her, kiss her, love her as if the last two years had never happened. All despite those feelings being burned and buried long ago and in no way ever being reciprocated. It was hard enough focusing just through the exhaustion and the pain. Stuff the coffee. She needed a shot of rum. Actually, screw the shot. She needed a bottle.

There was no doubt in her mind that working with Kefka had affected Terra's personality, but was it possible that whatever had affected that part of her had also affected her memories?

"Celes?"

If Kefka was behind Terra's transformation, weight loss, memory loss, and the myriad of scarring that was appearing more and more as they traveled, then he was going to find himself tied to a cactuar before she broke every one of his bones and turned his blood to solid ice. See him laugh about that.

"Celes?" Terra's second squeak of concern and a hand on a shoulder shot Celes out of her head and back into the world. "Did that bush make you angry?"

Celes honestly was unable to tell if Terra had made a joke or if she sincerely believed what she had asked. She chose to laugh just because of the absurdity of such a thing. "I'm looking for signs of travelers on the road," she said. "The last thing we want is to run into Imperial soldiers." That had been what she had set out to do initially but she had become engrossed with her thoughts and allowed her face to mirror her unspoken emotions. She really needed to keep that in check. She leaned forward to stand and couldn't help crying out when another stomach cramp flared up again. She would have fallen over if Terra hadn't caught her, her slender fingers immediately going to the source of the pain as if that would help subside it.

"You're hurt, aren't you?"

A moment had passed before Celes was able to stand with a wince. She wrapped an arm around her aching front and breathed evenly to force it to subside. They didn't have time for this. "I'm fine," she grumbled. "We need to be getting a move on."

"Don't lie," came Terra's stern retort. She was quick to stand and even quicker with her worried scowl. "You've been doing this all morning, hey. Let me see it."

"There's no time." Celes' cheeks burned at the idea of flashing Terra and tried hiding it by feigning interest in an opposite direction. She didn't want to see it. If she didn't want a visual, then nobody else needed one either. Especially Terra.

"I can't heal you without seeing it." Funny, that girl remembered nothing about herself but seemed to recall that she possessed curative magic. She got more curious as the day progressed.

"I'm fine, Terra," Celes barked. "I'll worry about my injuries once we're safely at Figaro Castle."

"You don't have to yell at me," Terra murmured as she chewed on her bottom lip.

The look on Terra's face made Celes feel as if she had slapped her, though in a way she essentially had. She inwardly winced and tried to ignore it the best she could. "Look, I'm sorry," she said softly, "but we're not safe here, and I don't want you overexerting yourself at my expense." When Terra failed to look convinced, Celes put her hands on her shoulders in reassurance. "Once we get to Figaro I'll get it treated."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

One moment, Terra's face scrunched her face up in what could be called resolving determination. The next, she shoved Celes into a nearby tree, prompting her to raise her arms to keep personal space clear, though she might as well have been shoveling fog with a pitchfork in the rain. Like a shadow, Terra had managed to slip through and pin her down.

"Terra." Celes had tried to sound threatening, but it had come out barely above a whisper. A cute, leg melting smile and a slender finger on her lips shushed her from speaking more. Said finger then lightly trailed down her chin, passed the neck, between the breasts, and all the way down to the hem of her shirt. What the hell was Terra doing?

With an air of gentleness, Terra raised Celes' shirt and then promptly followed it up with a cry of surprise. Of course, Celes already knew what had been found, an immense, nasty looking bruise of black and green that stretched from tits to hips and nearly around to her back. And that was just the superficial injury. There was no telling what kind of internal damage existed.

To say that Terra was absolutely horrified only broke the surface; she was seething. "This is not fine!" she hissed. "Silly bugger!" She placed both hands flat on the injured area and immediately began glowing with a white cerulean light that soon encompassed most of Celes' torso.

Celes sighed and leaned back against the tree. A feeling of refreshing coolness washed over her. It was reminiscent of jumping into an icy lake on a hot summer's day or standing in the rain after a strenuous workout. Every sharp pain deep within receded as her body mended itself with magic's assistance. She no longer felt the injury but knew that she'd still be scarred by the sight of it. The bruise would take some time to fade away.

Terra tiredly smiled at her and purposefully let her slender hands linger under the shirt. It was confusing and unnerving enough that Celes wondered what the hell was going on underneath all that green hair. For two years she had dreamed and hoped of moments similar to this and, now finally, it was like the greatest dream come true.

"I'm tired…" Terra wearily mumbled as she slumped forward from exhaustion.

Celes tightened the embrace prompting Terra to respond in kind by nuzzling the shoulder she had landed on. "I know you meant well," she said, "but this is why I didn't want you to heal me." Secretly, she realized that their chances of survival were vastly improved now that she could fight, if she had to, without doubling over in pain every two seconds.

Terra looked up from her vantage point between a breast and a shoulder. "You don't hurt anymore?"

"…No."

"Then that's all that matters to me."

Celes sighed once more and whispered, "Baldur's Gate, Terra, I've bloody missed you."

South Figaro was very much a typical port town found in the world of Gaia. It had its taverns for sailors and civilians alike, docks for ships, cockworkers for the dockworkers, shops selling various wares of various and sometimes dubious quality, and places for weary travelers to safely rest their weary heads. Except, it did have a few highly sought-after things that no other port town had besides perhaps the Imperial held Tzen or Albrook.

Technology, thanks in part to the Royal Engineers at Figaro Castle, made it possible for non-MagiTek, magicless lights to brighten dark street corners at night, which made it just as safe a place to be as inside the castle walls. Technology also made it possible for the best damn ale money could buy. If you weren't willingly drowning your liver to death in a roaring river of a South Figarian ale, then life wasn't worth living. At least, that's what the citizens of the Figaro kingdom thought of the matter.

Wedge found himself at a tavern on the west side of town affectionately known to the locals as the Cheery Moogle. It was one of those places where you could get away to, where everyone knew your name and were always glad you came. So far, he and Vicks had found friends in other Imperials who were more than happy to join the two in drinking. Dancing girls twirled in circles and on poles on a nearby stage as an automatic piano, another invention of the Figaro Royal Engineers, ripped through an upbeat tune that even drunken Imperial soldiers could and would attempt and fail to sing along.

As Vicks downed his one of many drinks to a chanting of "Chug!", Wedge looked down at the tankard of beer he was nursing and tried reflecting on the previous night's events. After being found outside Narshe by a scouting patrol, he and his subordinate were whisked away by chocobo to South Figaro to meet with Lord Kefka. There was supposed to have a been a debriefing of the events that had transpired, but that meeting never happened. Supposedly, Lord Kefka had been delayed by events that had been, according to reports, related to the incident in which they had been a part. When they had learned that the Fire Witch had flown and crash-landed in General Chere's camp to the east of the city and decimated everyone there, including the General, Biggs had turned heavily to the alcohol.

Wedge didn't blame him. That could have been them lying dead in the frozen wastelands of Narshe. It was even more devastating knowing that General Chere, the sanest of the generals, would no longer be leading the army. With semi-sane General Leo detained elsewhere, that task would be left to--

The double doors of the tavern suddenly burst open with a loud wooden THWACK. As the entire room fell silent, barring the piano, all eyes fell to Lord Kefka as he stood defiantly in the entrance way. He wasn't so much holding the doors open as he was threatening them if they dared to close. He giggled to himself before clearing his throat to cackle piercingly.

"Well?" He spoke in that condescending tone that implied that the entire tavern were one a single patron and a guilty one at that. "Am I going to be offered a drink or am I going to have to fry someone for it?!"

A nearby drunken grunt, stammering apologies, quickly offered his drink and promptly saluted the door frame with a drunken determination that could only be applauded. Lord Kefka laughed, downed the drink in one quick swig, and smashed the tankard over the previous owner's head.

Nobody moved to help the poor screaming bastard who was now rolling around in a bloody glassed mess on the floor. Every Imperial soldier knew that to do so in Lord Kefka's presence would be to suffer a similar fate or worse. It was the Imperial Way. They all remembered, or at least heard the story of the poor bastard who had spent a week motionless in the four corners of the barracks, all for eating a dinner laced with garlic! He had actually caused quite a stink before Lord Kefka finally ordered his removal…with multiple body bags.

"That was good!" Kefka said with a cackle. Whether he was referring to the ale or having taken his frustrations out on some poor schmuck was up for interpretation. "Idiot!" he sneered to the writhing man on the floor. His beady little eyes then searched the crowd before settling on Wedge at the counter. He ordered, "You! Grab your drunken idiot friend and meet me at headquarters. If you're not there in ten minutes, you better pray I don't find you afterward."

Wedge gulped as his superior left the building. Vicks' expression had dropped as well. The last person who had failed to meet Lord Kefka on time ended up speared on the short hand of the Imperial Palace's clock tower. The reasoning for it had been "He'll forever be on time now!" Wedge certainly didn't want to face the same fate.

For a brief moment, Celes poked her head around the corner from the alleyway in which she and Terra were hiding. So far, so good. They had made it into the city undetected by sheer luck, and she was determined to keep that detection to a minimum. Behind her, she could hear Terra fidgeting with the dress that had she had procured for her. Well, stolen off of someone's washing line, but the idea was to believe that they were borrowing it.

Celes took a deep breath before darting across the sun-drenched street and diving behind a few well-placed rubbish bins. Terra brought up the rear and nearly tripped in the center of the thoroughfare when her oversized garment slipped over her nonexistent hips. Sneaking around without being seen was easier at night. Even with shadows during the day one still ran the risk of being seen.

"This is the fifth time I've nearly tripped because of this stupid thing," Terra complained in hushed tones. "I don't understand why I have to wear it."

Celes replied, "Because a young woman wandering around the city naked as is going to generate more attention than one who's not."

"But you're wearing only your knickers."

"Right. I'm not naked, sweetheart."

"Can we switch?"

"It'll be a cold day in hell before you catch me in a dress."

And in Terra's case, Celes did agree; that dress was more of a hindrance than anything. While it had been chosen because the bright red would make those beautiful green eyes pop out, it hadn't been until long afterward that she had realized her mistake. It was so massively oversized that it hindered more than it helped. It also made the poor girl look even thinner than she really was.

Speaking of thin, they needed food and neither had any gil to speak of. Even if they were successful in rescuing the Returner operative, they were still at least two day's foot travel from Figaro Castle. First things first, they needed to find where Kefka was keeping his hostage.

Celes led them randomly throughout the back alleys and tried her best to keep them in the shadows. Truth be told, she had no real plan, no information, couldn't remember where anything was in this city, and silently wondered if perhaps it would be best just to head straight to Figaro Castle. It wasn't until they crossed over a brook, did she finally realize where she was. They weren't far from an Imperial information source.

Pruert Durmoch, South Figaro's self-proclaimed richest man, was the owner of the largest mansion in the city and controlled Figaro's news media with an iron fist. He was the Empire's primary source of insider information since the Figaro royalty could only be trusted half as often as the Emperor liked. Knowing Kefka as well as Celes thought she did, she felt it safe to assume that he'd use Durmoch's mansion as a base. She also felt it safe to assume that he'd keep his prisoner in a dark place far away from prying eyes.

Luckily, she knew Durmoch's secret. His mansion housed a super-secret basement dungeon. What he used it for she didn't know and had not been inclined to ask. With the shackles on the walls and the multitude of torture devices down there, one could only assume what the man did in his off time. The little-known back entrance would be their way in, but how would they avoid getting caught once they made it inside?

Celes froze behind a pile of wooden crates when a drunken voice started shouting from down the street. She hissed in annoyance and pulled Terra back into the shadows. "That's Kefka's a right whatchacallit!" the voice slurred. Imperial soldiers. Jackpot.

"An arshole?" said the more sober of the two.

"Yeah! That's what I said, sir!"

"I know, Vicks, but at least he didn't outright kill us!" Kefka? Spare someone's life? This was a new one. Celes shared a look with Terra, who looked just as confused as she but more than likely for different reasons.

"Man!" cried the drunk. "Screw that guy, sir! I don't want to spend my time lookin' for some bloody bimbo! I wanna go back to that bar, hey! That bar wench was eyein' me, mate! I know it!"

Celes smirked as the two soldiers stopped walking directly in front of their hiding spot. Their tickets into Durmoch's mansion just so happened to show up when needed. She wanted those uniforms and quietly stated so, despite objections. She quickly laid out the plan which, much to Terra's disappointment, involved "bruising some chumps." Since Celes was well known throughout the Empire, Terra would grab their attention and lure them deep into the alleyway. Celes, then, would leap out and knock them both cold on their asses. Simple and straightforward. What could possibly go wrong?

After some encouragement, Terra scurried out of the shadows like a nervous mouse. From behind her hiding spot, Celes watched as she unsteadily made her way towards the two men, who were now arguing about names. After catching their attention with a meek and soft-spoken greeting, it went awkwardly silent. Something wasn't right with their reactions. Terra noticed as well and suddenly looked like she wanted to hide inside her dress.

"You…" said the lesser drunk of the two.

"Bloody hell!" slurred the drunk one more than he shouted. "It's that overpowered sheila from last night!"

Oh, fantastic. There went the plan, flying south for the winter, with no intentions of returning, and no way to stop it. Of course, the soldiers that Celes had planned to mug knew Terra! She didn't know what had transpired before the fan decimated shit last night, but if these two had been involved in turning Terra into a magical fire cat--

Terra cried out in fear and dove back towards safety, while Celes did the exact opposite with intent on bum rushing both soldiers. However, neither one was there. They had turned tail like little bitches and run in panic down the street. She hissed in frustration. If word got back to Kefka about this, both she and Terra were as good as dog food.

Without a second thought, she sprinted after them, but without boots her tender bare feet would slow her down and give those guys the advantage. An idea suddenly came to mind. Magic.^[2] As her feet pounded the uneven cobblestones, Celes focused and imagined the ground beneath the two soldiers covered with an icy and slippery deus ex machina. Nature heeded her call and made it so. A blast of icy coldness rocketed from her outstretched hand and made love to a section of the street further up. The two men hit the newly formed patch of ice, slid around in ill-fated attempts at figure skating, and with the graces of concrete cats tumbled hard to the ground.

Celes quickly covered the remaining distance and, with haste and a newly fashioned ice blade, considered how best to handle this situation. The two-manned pretzel finally took notice of her and again carried looks of fearful recognition. "General Chere!" stammered the more sober of the two. "But-- But you're supposed to be dead!"

She hardened her expression with a frost laden frown and loomed over them. She especially didn't allow her shock at his remark show. How the hell was she dead when she was wholly aware of how alive she was? How did these two fit in with Terra? What had they seen? Where had they been?

"It would appear that your information is incorrect, mate," she stated, her breath cold enough to be seen in the warm air. "Now, gentlemen, I want your uniforms. And since you seem to know my friend back there, you can answer some questions."

"You didn't have to hurt them," Terra whispered as she and Celes wandered into a foyer richly decorated with intricately carved polished woods and shiny golds.

"I didn't hurt them," Celes said under her breath. Terra could have sworn she heard a "much" thrown in as an afterthought, but it had been so faint and quick that she doubted hearing it in the first place. "Besides, it was necessary to knock them out and douse them with alcohol. Anything they say now will be disregarded as the ramblings of two drunken retards."

Terra pouted. "Still, you didn't have to hurt them."

Celes sighed and placed a hand on the hilt of the sword sheathed at her belt. "It's us or them," she said. "First rule of survival. Surely you remember that from academy?"

"I…" Terra paused all physical movement to ponder this. Nothing came to mind, but there was a nagging voice out the back that that claimed familiarity. The reason how and why refused to surface with additional information. She looked down at her feet as she rubbed her upper arm. "I don't remember."

Aye. Just as thou hast nay memories of killing scores of thy own kind while in the guise of a cursed demon.

This voice from the back of her mind spoke strangely, but the statement was true. Celes had told her what had happened the night before, about what she had done, about what she had looked like. She still couldn't believe it, and still had wanted to hide in a dark corner somewhere to cry until she could cry no more. The only thing that stopped her from doing so was knowing she had saved Celes' life in the process. That was more important, she thought.

Celes frowned apologetically. "Sorry," she said. "I forgot about that."

Terra shrugged, ending the conversation and motivating them to continue up a flight of stairs. As they passed a rather expensive looking decorative mirror, she caught a glimpse of herself in its reflection. The face looking back at her was foreign to her. She couldn't recall ever seeing what she had looked like before, but despite seeing herself for the first time, she knew that scary skeleton face was her. She tried to tell herself that she was only scary looking because of exhaustion, a lack of cleanliness, and, as Celes had mentioned, a need for several sandwiches. If only they were safe enough to make their way to the kitchen. To describe her as fairly hungry only put it mildly.

While shaking her head in frustration, she hurried to catch up. The uniform she wore was also much too big but, thankfully, nowhere near the size of that ridiculous dress that Celes had 'found' for her. The only good thing to come of her current threads was the fact that the oversized helmet hid her face and exotically colored hair rather well. Still, she couldn't help complaining, "I look ridiculous."

"As soon as we get out of here you can take that helmet off," Celes said. "But at least you can breathe without snapping any buttons. Without bindings, this thing's tight around the chest." Well, that was true. Celes' uniform did look incredibly strained as if her busty breasts were about to burst out at any moment in one magnificent wardrobe malfunction. If they were anywhere else in any other situation, Terra would have reached over and undone a few buttons so that it wouldn't look so painful.

Celes stopped them at a bend in the hallway and peered around the corner. At first, Terra wondered what was up around the bend. That curiosity died when voices belonging to neither of them bounced off the walls. She suddenly found herself forced against the wall as Celes swore under her breath.

"Just be patient, Lord Kefka," said a voice from around the corner. "I'm fairly confident that one of my staff is a Returner spy. It's only a matter of time before King Edgar catches wind that his operative is here and mounts a rescue operation."

A high-pitched cackling laugh filled the hallway, one that Terra fearfully remembered from somewhere. "Oh, I can be patient, Durmoch," replied an equally familiar high-pitched nasally voice. "Though I still believe that I'd have more fun putting his head on a pike and leaving it on Edgar's doorstep!" The cackle returned, this time much louder.

Celes suddenly stood at attention with a salute. A nudge at her foot forced Terra to do the same, except she couldn't stop shaking in fear. She knew that laugh. Where from or why she knew, she couldn't say, but it was associated with bad things. She also knew the name Kefka, though mostly from Celes not speaking too highly of him. In Terra's opinion, the unflappable Celes even seemed to fear him on some level. If Celes feared him, then Terra was terrified. She did not want to be here.

Two men rounded the corner; one a middle-aged man dressed in the king of rich man suits and the other a spindly wire frame of a clown who was more arms and legs with a body than he was a body with arms and legs. The sight of this second man sent Terra's fear into orbit. She knew that face makeup. She knew the bright, vivid colors of his clothing. She knew that hook nose rising off his face like a mountain at sunset. Intense negative feelings she didn't understand started bubbling up inside her very being. Images quickly flashed by her mind's eye, whips, blood, needles, fire, his crazed dead-eyed smile, and a silver jewel-encrusted tiara. It took every ounce of self-control to remain standing in place and not scream in fear and run away. Instead, her fearful trembling intensified and tears welled in the corners of her eyes.

The multicolored man sneered, "What's wrong with you, soldier?" Terra couldn't answer. She didn't want to answer. She was too terrified.

"Please excuse him, M'lord," Celes said in a voice mimicking that of a teenaged boy. Of course, considering that she had a throaty voice on the deep end of the female spectrum this didn't seem too difficult for her to pull off. "Me mate's got a nasty case of crabs, hey." If Terra had attempted that with her own squeaky voice… No, she didn't want to think about it.

"Crabs?!" said the rich man as he recoiled back. "Preposterous!" The clown merely raised an eyebrow as if intrigued.

"Aye, sir. Itchy cunts, hey, crawlin' around his balls. It's takin' all his energy just to hold that salute."

"Then why are you and your filth here instead of getting treated at medical?" Clown man said as he too took a step back.

"Makin' our rounds, M'lord. Dedicated to the Empire, hey! Wind, rain, shine, or hair climbin' crustacean! None will stop us from doing our sworn duty!" The amount of pure joy that Celes put into that statement was so thick that Terra could taste its saccharine sweetness in the air.

Both men made noises of disgust and passed by as far away from them as the hall would allow. They then quickly descended the stairs. "For god's sake, don't spread your disease throughout my house!" the rich man called back.

The two women waited a tense moment before breathing a sigh of relief. "That was close," Celes said in a hushed tone.

From somewhere downstairs, Kefka's bone piercing laughter filtered up to the second level and reverberated off the stone walls, giving the impression that he was everywhere. "I can order him to spread it throughout Figaro Castle!" he exclaimed. "Think of the chaos that would ensue!"^[3]

Terra had flung herself into the safety of Celes' arms and trembled herself into a fearful frenzy. "Don't let him take me!" she pleaded as she tried to find calming blue eyes behind the helmet's visor.

Celes squeezed her with a brief hug. "It's alright," she said reassuringly. "We're nearly there." She took Terra by her shaking hand and, after making sure the way was clear, led her down the hallway. Terra, meanwhile, ensured that her vice-like grip never faltered. Celes truly was the only thing that gave her comfort in this scary world. Honestly, she wanted to be anywhere but here.

At the end of the hallway, they came to a massive study filled to the brim with books upon books upon books. Terra had never seen so many in one location before. In the center of the room, sat an ornate desk as well as a comfy looking high-backed chair. The room itself contained no windows or exits save the door they entered through, which was quickly closed and locked, yet there seemed to be an icy-cold draft coming from somewhere.

"It's cold in here," Terra murmured.

"It is a bit nippily, hey," Celes said with a chuckle. Not waiting for a response, she began circling the room and scrutinizing every bookcase. She wasn't really looking for a book to read now, was she?

Terra, with nothing else to do, followed like a lost puppy dog. "What are you looking for?" she softly asked. She didn't want to speak too loudly just in case someone happened to hear them.

"This."

Celes shot her a sly smirk when she stopped them at a bookcase in the very back corner of the room. The draft seemed breezier here, so much so that Terra could actually hear the faint whistling of wind. When the bookcase was pushed on, she gushed in amazement as it swung open like a free-swinging door. Behind it loomed a dark, suffocating stairway.

"How did you know about that?" Terra said with awe.

Again, Celes merely responded with a sly grin and motioned for Terra to follow her down the shadow covered stairs. It was after some time of silence that she finally said something. "Well, let's just say that I, uh, got a little friendly with one of Durmoch's maids the last time I was here."

Terra's mood turned dark and brooding very quickly for reasons she didn't understand. Friendly? What had Celes meant by that? Had they shared a cup of tea and a game of chess? Had they shared something else?

"I didn't even have to pry the info out of her, hey," Celes continued. "She just sort of blurted it out on her own, mid-climax." From the tone of her voice, it sounded as if that particular memory tasted bittersweet.

Terra, not knowing how to respond other than with lots of fire, opted to remain silent and forget about her sudden unexplained anger over something silly. She chose instead to worry about the fact that an incredibly frightening man nearly discovered her. She was certain she had never seen him before, but she also felt as if she had and that unnerved her. She had never felt anything as strong as she had in those few minutes of being in his presence, at least that she could remember.

She stole a glimpse at the back of Celes' head in the dim light and focused on the few locks of golden hair dangling out from underneath her helmet. Whether or not her friend was worried didn't seem to show in her demeanor or voice. Terra wished she could be like that; head held high, strong of will, beautiful like a goddess.

They walked in deep, dark silence for some time, for how long Terra lost track of. The farther down they went, the more oppressing the darkness became. It got to the point that she was tempted to summon a flame to light the way despite her exhaustion, nagging hunger, and dwindling reserves. A small task such as that would be difficult to maintain for very long. She stuck close to Celes and made sure not to let go of her hand mostly for her own peace of mind. She wasn't afraid of the darkness itself, but rather of the things that could be lurking behind it.

"Celes," Terra whispered, "are you scared?" A squeeze of her hand reassured her that her friend was looking out for her.

"No," Celes whispered back, "but I am concerned about what we might find down here."

Terra knew they had reached the bottom when magicless lights began appearing to brighten their path. The stairs bottoming out also helped her with that knowledge. They passed by a series of bookcases filled with more books. Just how many did this guy have? She caught glimpses of the titles in the flickering light and had to fight the urge to alphabetize the randomly placed collection. What kind of madman just put random books on a shelf without any sort of order?

Because of the distraction, she failed to notice Celes had stopped. The two collided, and Terra lost her helmet when regaining her balance. The sturdy piece of headgear bounced multiple times on the marble floor with loud metallic crashes that echoed eternally throughout the hallway. They both froze and prayed to the gods that this area was devoid of people.

Up ahead, a snort followed by loud mumbling about soup and bread came from behind a thick wooden door. "No, no," said a different irritated voice. "Don't get up. I'll investigate it for you. You deadbeat arsehole."

Terra took a position on the opposite side of the doorway at Celes' silent request and flattened herself against the wall. She held her breath and prayed that nothing bad would happen to them. The Imperial soldier who emerged from the doorway didn't get very far before an ice-covered fist introduced itself to his face. He fell to the floor clutching his bloody nose and screaming like someone had tried to kill him.

This action caused the top buttons of Celes' tight uniform to snap off at high speed, revealing cleavage and beaning on the head the second guard, who had been sleeping on a dangerously balanced chair with his feet propped on the table. It hadn't been so much the force of the button attack that had knocked him backward to the floor, but more so his precarious position and his startling awake. Celes withdrew the sword that came with the stolen uniform she was wearing and leveled its sharp tip with his nose. "I'd surrender if I were you, mate," she said.

"General Chere!" he stammered.

A puddle suddenly appeared on the seat of his trousers and the floor underneath him. If Celes was bothered by such an embarrassing, involuntary action, there was no indication. On the other hand, Terra took pity on the man and apologized. "I'm really sorry about this, but please do as she asks." She came to the conclusion that the sword in his face and the repeated cries of pain from his comrade had influenced his scared whimper and eager nodding.

At Celes' suggestion, Terra took the chance to investigate the room while loose ends were tied up. For the most part, there was nothing of interest, random books, Imperial headgear, lots of buckets, and few broken grandfather clocks. However, in the back of the room behind a series of stacked barrels, she came upon a horrific sight that caused her to dry heave at first glance. She had found a brown haired young man chained to the wall; his clothes bloody with the rips in the fabric exposing the oozing lesions underneath. Blood covered the walls and floor surrounding him. While his eyes were glazed and unfocused, they didn't distract from the pale, ashen color of his skin. The biggest concern was the white foam collecting at the corners of his mouth.

"Oh, my god," she whispered before rushing to check his vitals. "What have they done to you?" She took note that she'd need a key to undo the shackles holding him to the wall and tried to inspect his injuries as best she could. They were freshly made, of this there was no doubt, and appeared to be relatively uninfected at the moment. Healing magic would help, but he'd need proper medical attention as soon as possible.

The young man coughed before slowly rolling his eyes in Terra's direction. "I think I know you," he mumbled weakly. This surprised her. She had never seen this man before in her life, at least she didn't think she had.

A gasp from behind told Terra that Celes had found them. "Holy hellfire, you found our man," she said in a hushed tone. "And it looks like Kefka didn't lie to me about his intentions of using poison."

Poison? Terra started chewing on her lip. That would explain his strange color, lack of focus, and the foaming mouth. He'd never make it to Figaro. It needed to be purged from his system quickly, but she wasn't sure if she had the magic reserves to do it herself. Unless Celes had learned curative magic as well, which she doubted, this poor man was doomed.

Celes knelt down at his side and, using a key that Terra later learned had been taken from the guards, unshackled the Returner operative. She caught him around her shoulders before he collapsed to the floor. "Rescued by Celes Chere," he mumbled with a cough. "Edgar was right. You're too caring to be an Imperial dog."

Celes rolled her eyes and sighed. "Save your strength, mate," she ordered. "We're not out of the fire yet."

Before leaving the room, Terra checked the hallway for any unscrupulous individuals. After finding none, she led Celes into the increasingly darkening corridor. With Celes' hands full, she'd have to do any and all fighting. She unstrapped the heavy shield from her back and nestled her right hand into the grips. This was not something she was looking forward to. She didn't know how to fight!

Thou hast forgotten, lass. Thy dance has’t nary a blemish under the moon’s last watchful eye.

Terra shook her head clear of voices and eyed the newest member of their group as he hung limply in Celes' arms. She silently prayed that they'd be able to make it out of the city without any dissensions. His life, as well as their own, depended on it.

^[1] Celes didn't cook as often as Kefka did. She preferred cooking for special people who needed a quick "pick-me-up." ^[return]

^[2] As MagiTek Knights, if one specialized in a natural element as both Celes and Terra did, then that element could be summoned willy-nilly and applied in various ways. However, unless one was some sort of god, carried a rather large rabbit's foot, or had an incredible ability to stay focused in the worst of times magic could and would backfire in the worst of ways. For all literary intents and purposes, magic is a double-edged deus ex machina. ^[return]

^[3] This tactic of warfare was nothing new. In the olden days before MagiTek, Night Captain John Syphilis of Narshe got his nickname because of the unique way he captured outlaws. They called him "The Hepatitis Kid" right up until he died in battle. The irony of his death was that, mid-battle with his arch nemesis "Myocardial Infarction Jackson" aka "Heart Attack Jack", he died of a heart attack totally unrelated to his condition. ^[return]

Chapter Text

A room full of angry Imperial soldiers blockaded Terra and Celes from their freedom, a room of angry soldiers that Terra really did not want to engage in a fight. As much as she wanted to remain in the Valley of Indecision, a soldier running full speed in her direction with a drawn weapon forced her to realize that apathy would be a terrible idea. There was no turning back now! It was time to face some fears!

She vaguely heard Celes' warning shout but was too busy using her heavy shield to prevent a disemboweling. The Imperial's blow bounced harmlessly off to the side, but with that jerk's added force her arm trembled and nearly gave out from overexertion. She needed something smaller. The shield was too cumbersome and bulky, but as her opponent discovered, those qualities made for an excellent face smasher.

Terra's opponent went flying and his teeth flying further, narrowly missing a blast of ice that shot past and completely froze a soldier who had tried to flank her. She wanted to thank Celes for the support magic, but the squawking of a radio made her ear twitch, and a sword swipe from the opposite flank diverted her attention. From behind her raised shield, she learned that an Imperial scout was trying to radio for assistance, but seemed to be having issues getting through several feet of solid concrete. If more Imperials showed up down here, they might as well surrender! The three of them wouldn't stand a chance!

Terra stole another quick look around before swinging her weapon and striking an iron shield. With Celes either unaware of the scout, or too busy fending off her own problems single-handedly, this meant that Terra needed to act and quickly. She sidestepped as the gentleman in front of her attacked once again, allowing him to lose his balance and crash into the frozen statue behind her. The ice encapsulated soldier tumbled to the floor and smashed into millions of bloody shards. In this confusion, Terra grabbed her opponent's arm, twisted it beyond the point that it could safely bend, and put her entire weight into a blow with her elbow. The wet snap of bones breaking and the inhuman cry of pain made her cringe before she sent him crashing to the floor with a kick and a stab to the back.

"I'm so sorry!" she said. She truly was. Saying that would have hurt like hell would have been an understatement. Turning her sights back to the scout, she quickly weighed her options. The only thing that could bring him down at this distance was a long-range attack, but with no magic, there was no fire. All she had was a basic one-handed sword and a shield; neither could cause things to burst into flames or bend space/time to her will.

Hast thou forgotten? came that faint voice from the back of her mind. Thou needeth not a vile Imperial Buckler! Thou art a dual wielder! Acquire another sword!

With an idea popping into existence, Terra shanked another attacker who showed up to play, twirled around twice to build momentum, and sent her shield flying through the air. When she came back around, she retrieved her blade from a squelchy stomach and, using her now free off-hand, snagged a second sword from her opponent's loosening grip. Again, she inwardly cringed when rewarded with three very different sounds. First, there had been the disturbing wet flop of her opponent falling to the floor in a puddle of blood. Second had been the rewarding cry of surprise and metallic ping of her shield striking the scout unconscious. And thirdly, a gurgle to her side told her that she had speared someone in the throat at the halting of her spin.

This string of victories had been short-lived. With a cry of surprise and her two blades, Terra caught a sword strike that came from seemingly nowhere. "Give it up, Returner scum!" this new attacker spat at her. She gritted her teeth and tried pushing him back, but only made her arms tremble. His insult confused her. She wasn't a Returner and, in actuality, still had no idea what it was they did or why they even fought the Empire. Although, considering the attempted murder of Celes for speaking her mind, she could imagine several possibilities as to why the dictatorship was unfavorable.

Terra released the hold she had on her opponent's force and swiftly sidestepped to knee him in the gut as he stumbled forward. He landed hard with the thud of a sack of potatoes hitting the floor. Terra gritted her teeth once again and stomped her heel on his neck, effectively breaking it. She grimaced at the gurgling cry that filled her ears. She had to keep repeating the words that Celes had said to her, "It's us or them." There certainly was no death wish present; the world still had so much in it to see and do. More importantly, she wanted to remember that which she had lost. Her Valley of Indecision had turned into a Highway to Hell and not by choice.^[1]

A cry from Celes snapped Terra out of her fixated glaring at the dead man at her feet and sent her into an exciting, burning rage. Celes and her Returner charge had been backed into a corner by the last three Imperials. Anyone going after them would have to go through her first or suffer her going through them. Preferably the latter.

Before Terra mentally processed anything, she closed the gap with a mad dash, a leap into the air, and a yowling war cry. She smashed her dual swords down vertically, forcing one Imperial to discover that his arms no longer followed his commands. A split second later, she crashed into him, sending them both sprawling to the floor in a ketchup of a mess; matted hair and dismembered body parts all covered in slippery blood. Using the confusion to her advantage, she swiftly kicked the groin of one of the two remaining Imperials, impaled him in the chest before he could collapse on top of her, and booted him off with both feet. A gurgled moan and a splash of red told Terra that Celes had taken care of the remaining enemy.

"Bloody hell," Celes said. "I can't tell if you're injured or if you enjoyed yourself a little too much."

Terra rolled off her now dead opponent, stood, and surveyed herself. A piercing sting in her right arm screamed, a sure sign a blade had nicked her. Her stolen Imperial uniform, ripped in several places and drenched in blood, wetly clung to her skin. She certainly had fared better than those who had opposed her. She didn't have to look to know the full scope of the damage done as the moans and cries of anguish of those who had escaped death filled these dark hallways. Although, if she wanted to ignore reality, she could have just pretended that she had gone swimming with piranhas in a river of blood. Sadly, she couldn't ignore the real world nor could she afford to feel sorry for the nameless enemy. These men chose their fates when they became soldiers. At least, that was how she justified it.

"Let's leave quickly," she said quietly. "I don't want to see this."

"You don't have to tell me twice, mate," Celes said swiftly. "Just remind me never to piss you off. You're bloody scary when aggro."

It wasn't long before Terra lead them in a sprint down a long dimly lit hallway as Celes, who had ushered assurances that she had been through here before, called out directions at intersections. So far, despite the sounds of bloodhounds baying somewhere in this labyrinthine basement, there were no more enemies to fight. She was almost finding the experience dull and dreary.

Despite her natural aversion to fighting, that previous battle had awakened some dark and twisted part of her that thrived on the carnage, bloodletting, and destruction. She wanted more of that thrill; she wanted more of that deadly flowing dance where she could lose herself. She'd had a taste, and now she wanted to sink her teeth in more. The more blood she shed, the more power she felt flow through her veins. All in all, she was excited in more ways than she cared to admit. The itch in her pants, the warmth in her belly, the dull ache of her teeth. She didn't think she had been hit in the face, she wasn't clenching her teeth, she was hungry, and she sincerely hoped that the trousers she wore weren't harboring any teeny tiny creepy crawlies. Ew.

They finally came to the end of the hall and a flight of stairs. Not wasting a beat, they fought the stairway two steps at a time and for the grand finale, burst through a sturdy oaken door. After finding no guards or patrols, they took a moment to catch their breaths.

Freedom had led them just outside the northeastern part of the city, the wrong side of the city as Celes lamented with several colorful words. Castle Figaro was to the west, through a dark, dank cave and located right smack dab in the middle of a desert. The quickest path through town would alert everyone to their location and mayhap their destination. The safest route to the north around the city would take the longest amount of time. Neither was ideal with dwindling magical reserves, exhaustion, and a poisoned Returner in their care.

Once breaths had returned, they quickly relocated to the cover of a nearby thicket of trees where Terra took a moment to dry heave into a bush. The confusion in taking lives in that basement, enemy or not, made her ill. Part of her enjoyed it. Part of her didn't. All of it scared her. She also was confident that if she had eaten anything, it would have ended up in that bush. She turned back to where Celes had lain the Returner out in the grass after hearing a deathly groan.

"He's burning up," Celes said after putting her hand on the operative's sweating forehead. Her face turned grim. "He's not going to make it."

Terra scrunched her mouth up into a lopsided frown and tried to force her stomach to calm its award-winning acrobatics. They needed an antidote to cure the poison in his veins but had no potion. Magic could dispel it, but as she was the only one who knew the spell she had little energy left. With the adrenaline from battle still running its course, it was possible that she could use her last bit of reserves and still keep moving until they were somewhere safe. But the opposite could just as well happen. It was just too risky with only the three of them. But at the same time, she had to try. She had to!

"I'm going to cure him," Terra finally said with the determination of a stubborn chocobo.

Celes shook her head. "No," she said. "I can't carry the both of you."

Terra knelt opposite Celes and placed a hand on the young man's rapidly rising and falling chest, the whole time never breaking eye contact. "Then you cure him," she said flatly.

"I know I've performed some miracles in my career, sweetheart, but that won't be one that I'll be able to add to the list. Not without another MagiTek infusion."

"Then you can carry the both of us."

That must have hit a nerve as several awkward silent moments were spent staring Celes down. Finally, she huffed and said, "I'm strong, but not that strong. Do you have any other ideas?"

It seemed that they had reached an impasse. Perhaps they could steal a few chocobos and make a break for it? Terra opened her mouth to say as such but froze when something pointy and sharp dug into her shoulder blades. "Pardon me, ladies," came a regal sounding voice from behind. "I am not quite sure what you have done to my friend here, but I very much do not like the looks of it. As such, I am afraid this is where your paths must diverge from his."

If Celes was afraid or readying herself battle, it didn't show. If anything, she was smiling? The tone of her voice, however, was still that of an unhappy general. "Drop the tough guy act and lose that stupid mask," she said sternly. "You may fool the Empire, but you sure as hell don't fool me."

Wedge hadn't been conscious for too long when he had been ushered into Lord Kefka's presence somewhere deep within Mr. Durmoch's mansion. They hadn't given him the time to put on a uniform or even clean the dried blood off his face, but at least they had tossed him a bandage to stop the bleeding. This situation had been his worst nightmare come true; his colleagues were dead or maimed, and the room looked as if a tornado of sharks had passed through and decimated everything.

In the center of the blast zone stood Lord Kefka looking none too pleased. He took notice of Wedge's presence and, like a live hand grenade, threw a scowl in his direction. "You!" he barked. "I thought I had told you two numbskulls to search for my assistant?"

Wedge nervously saluted and silently bid farewell to his family. They had been in the process of preparing when the ghost of General Chere had attacked and interrogated them. The strangest of all was that the girl Lord Kefka was looking for had been present as well. He mentally tried to calm his nerves and shared everything could in great detail. He did neglect to share how humiliating it had been to be stripped of clothing at sword-point. Lord Kefka would have no cares to share. Luckily for Vicks, he had been drunk off his ass and probably remembered nothing of the ordeal. Lucky bastard.

Lord Kefka had remained silent as a large frown exponentially grew upon his face. It was a look that made Wedge feel vastly uncomfortable and want to hide, preferably far, far away behind a locked door twenty thousand leagues under the sea. But that thought was shoved aside when Lord Kefka started cackling like a lunatic.

"Crabs, she said!" he cried before laughing some more.

"Sir?" This confused Wedge to no end. Nobody had said anything about any kind of seafood.

Kefka slyly rubbed his thin elongated hands together and said, "Get cleaned up and send word ahead to the Tunnel Armor crew en route to South Figaro Cave. Make sure they keep an eye out for our two renegade soldiers." He cackled in excitement before letting his teeth observe the world outside his lips. He uttered in a guttural tone, "They can kill the stupid blonde, but I want the green haired girl…alive."

A soldier across the room looked up from the wounded man he was tending and saluted. "Uh, actually, sir," he began with a quiver in his voice, "I heard that the, uh, Tunnel Armor was destroyed about ten minutes ago by riders on chocobo; a masked man in blue and a woman wearing an Imperial uniform."

"Man in blue…?" The look on Lord Kefka's face braked hard at Betrayal Way before signaling to turn left at Anger Drive. "And a woman in an Imperial uniform, you say…?"

"Yes, sir! A buxom blonde, sir!" said the medic. "Apparently, it had been a battle of epic proportions with impossible acrobatics, bouncing boobs, wardrobe malfunctions, and explosions the likes we've never seen!"

Lord Kefka stamped his feet like a child throwing a tantrum. "Celes, you blonde haired bimbo!" Wedge could almost see the steam shooting from his ears complete with a faintly audible whistle before, with a look of deranged glee, the kettle that was Kefka exploded with a scalding fireball that decimated everything in its path. The medic and his patient had turned to ash. He turned his glare to Wedge whispered harshly, "Let that be a lesson to you. Never wait to tell me anything."

Wedge saluted in trembling fear and fearfully soiled his underwear. It was embarrassing, yes, but after watching two people get turned to powdered chocolate, these sort of social faux pas were no longer a concern.

"Sober up your idiot of a friend," Lord Kefka said. "The three of us are taking a trip to Figaro first thing in the morning."

Wedge accepted his assignment without question and breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn't being turned into dog food for failing and wasn't going to argue any semantics. He saluted one final time and hurried back the way he came as best he could with the additional weight in the seat of his underpants. He nearly jumped when Kefka began cackling once again like a madman; it was chilling. However, he was just happy that he wasn't the one receiving the order to kill the survivors of whatever happened in that basement.

Hopefully, the requisition sergeant had underwear in his size. Perhaps it would be prudent to acquire several pairs. He had a feeling that soiling himself was going to become a common occurrence from here on out.

Terra stepped out of a sterile metallic hallway and onto a balcony that overlooked a city choked by acrid smoke so thick she could bounce a gil off it. All the visible buildings were so tightly packed together on the upper plate that one could effortlessly run across the rooftops without having a misstep or a leap to one's death. That meant one thing: overcrowding. All in all, it looked so familiar, but she couldn't place when she had ever been here or even where here was.

Celes and Kefka stood at the forefront of the balcony alongside two other individuals who were familiar but had names that had disappeared in a haze of forgetfulness. Kefka half-turned to glare at her, the scowl, much like his nose, unmistakable and unmissable. Celes, on the other hand, paid him no mind and greeted Terra with a smile, a soft elbow to the side, and a wink.

Of the two unknown men nearby, the one standing rigidly at attention offered Terra a quick wink and a smile before burying it all under the sterility of an impassive frown. The other man, centered and two steps in front of them all, gave the appearance that he was some all-important bushy-bearded man in robes. Who the hell was he and why did he fill Terra with an uneasy feeling?

"Soldiers of the Empire," beardy shouted in order to be heard, "We stand at the dawn of a new era!"

Surprisingly, everyone seemed to hang off his every word as if it were gospel handed down from the gods or the very sound of his voice made them quiver with pleasure. Terra wondered if she was the only one not affected by his syrupy tone. Of course, she was only half listening; politics didn't concern her in the slightest, although she did question what it was like to have a mind-blowing orgasm while listening to some old man drone on about whatever it is old men drone about.

"The lost power of magic has returned to us!" he continued. "The time has come for us to control this element of nature for the good of the world! The time has come to prove to the other nations that we are the chosen ones! Nothing shall stand in our way for our newly appointed and first MagiTek general, Celes Chere, has sworn before me, your Emperor, that she will see to our success!"

Cheers rose from the crowded city like a dragon from its slumber; it was a dragon Terra was excited to see. She hadn't seen Celes look so happy, well, ever. Rare was it to see such a big and pure smile adorn that beautiful face. When Terra embraced her friend with an excited hug, something changed. They were no longer in a city during the day, but somewhere in the moonlit countryside at night. Their embrace was so tight that their noses were touching. She couldn't stop staring into the misty eyes staring back at her.

When had they gotten here? What were they doing here? In fact, where was here? While the whole situation was confusing, it filled her heart with an emotion of which she had no name but knew that she had felt before. It tingled in her spine. It made her feel as if she were going to burst at any moment. What was this?

"Terra?"

"Hmm?"

"Promise me. Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll never forget me."

Terra reached up to caress Celes' warm cheek softly. "What is this? I'm not going anywhere." For some reason, she felt as if she had told a lie and that made her sad.

"I know, but…" Tears started falling from Celes' eyes. "I've never opened myself up to anyone before. And…I'm drunk and emotional. Please, just humor me."

"I…I can never forget you," Terra whispered, now realizing that she was not controlling events. She was merely an observer in her own body. "You mean the world to me." Was this a dream? When Celes kissed her, she prayed that it wasn't.

Terra's body one-upped the situation by falling back to the ground she was sitting on and pulling Celes with her. Again, it was confusing, but she welcomed these turns of events. Celes made her feel things she didn't understand, but they were good feelings. Somehow, they made sense. And she wanted more.

As they kissed over and over, Celes' hand explored under her shirt, driving Terra mad with teasing pleasure. Eventually, she had enough and decided that clothing needed coming off. As soon as the offending shirt was up over her head, she was standing topless before Kefka somewhere in a sterile metallic room. What the hell? Where had Celes gone? When had she gotten here? Why was she here?

Kefka stood before her painting a look of frenzied glee all over his face. He held a garish, multicolored robe and a tiara for her to take. "As my new personal assistant and bodyguard," he said, "I expect only two things from you."

"Two things?" she said in clarification as she slipped into the robes. They were comfy, but not quite her style. "What are they, Lord Kefka?" She took the tiara from his other hand and inspected it. Despite its bulky build and multitude of multicolored gemstones, it was surprisingly light and exuded a particular kind of charm, albeit an uneasy one.

Kefka waggled a finger at her. "One: I expect you to wear this uniform and tiara when you're on duty."

The odd request for some reason sent a shiver of fear down her spine. "Why?"

"I want my assistant to be the most stylish in the Empire!" he said with a puffed chest of pride.

That was fair enough, although Terra felt that her own sense of fashion was sufficient. Light clothing was the way to go for ease of movement and speed. These bulky robes would just slow her down if she had to fight. Nestling the headgear into her mane of hair, she said, "What's the second?" As she did so, her senses dulled as if a wet blanket had fallen on her.

Kefka cackled himself into a frenzy. "Why, your unwavering and undying loyalty to me, my dear." As he bowed low, he flashed her a grin dark enough to send more chills down her spine. "And for your first test of loyalty, I want you to go into the next room…" He growled the remainder of his order around his fits of giggles. "…and destroy everyone in there…by any means."

There was no way she was going to do such a thing! But, regardless of her feelings—her determination—she walked to the doorway anyway. At this point, she realized the gravity of the situation she was in. She was remembering—no—reliving the day she became a slave, the day she couldn't stop the slaughter, the day she lost the ability to look away, the day she no longer could run and hide.

The door flew open from a kick she hadn't commanded, revealing several surprised cadets she had graduated with as well as a few senior soldiers. Fire engulfed her hand. Laughter and cries of surprise filled her ears. Terra desperately tried to stop what she knew was coming, but had no choice but to watch as her hand snapped into position. There was no halting the deluge of fire that erupted from her fingertips, no stopping the screams of pain and anguish that assaulted her ears, no blocking out the sights of charred men alight in a blaze of flame. She had no choice but to watch and listen as she burned and slaughtered everyone without mercy.

Behind her, Kefka cackled with malicious excitement. "Yes! Yes!" he shouted. "Burn them all! Burn them all like crispy critters!"

If Terra had been able to shed tears, she would have. If she had been able to ease their passing, she would have. All she could do was scream for help in a voice loud enough for only her to hear.

Terra startled awake clutching at her heart. She ignored the sweat rolling down her forehead and tried to remember what had scared her. It had been a nightmare, but of what she couldn't remember. All she knew was that it had been disturbingly scary.

She took several deep breaths to enhance her calm and examined her surroundings. This gigantic stone room made her feel tiny and insignificant, while all of the fancy-looking furniture with their intricate decorative carvings and polished golden morning shine produced so much of a glare that she had to shield her eyes. In the nearest corner, a large, full-bodied mirror of elaborate design reflected all that it saw, enhancing said glare and the stares from the paintings of unknown rigid men, stiff women, and bored children. Multicolored flowers of multiple types covered nearly every available flat surface in a deliberate attempt to fuse nature and man-made. The nearby open fireplace filled the room with the pleasant earthy smell of its dying red embers. It reminded Terra of something good, but of what she couldn't remember.

Bloody amazing! The South Figaro rich man's house paled in comparison to just this one room! Wherever she was, it must have been owned by someone with impeccable taste and money enough to swim in it like a duck! Her words could not do her surrounds justice.

She finally took notice of the bed she was in, and its somewhat overly-sized bigness and overly-soft softness. It was so comfy! She stretched her extremities and enjoyed the feeling of fluffiness caressing her, almost lulling her back to sleep. She could stay here all day, especially considering that Celes was buried under the covers next to her, with soft snoring and a rare peaceful expression adorning on her face.

How cute! Celes was an adorable angel!

A half-empty bottle of alcohol rested on the side table, prompting Terra to stifle a laugh. Okay, maybe she was an adorable drunken angel. She lightly brushed away golden hair and felt her own cheeks go warm from the physical contact, although that could have been from the sun rising in the window and the bucket loads of reflected light. She adjusted her position on the bed to lean down and kiss Celes on her temple. A contented sigh sputtered about from the pillows which brought out another silent chuckle.

Correction: Celes was an adorable, kissable drunken angel.

Terra stared down at the sleeping form and tried to stave off the urge to kiss Celes a second time. She didn't understand what compelled her to do so or even why her heart felt like it was running a race with itself. It did make her feel comfortable with the world and, in the end, that was all that mattered. She brushed Celes' hair once more before following it up with another kiss and trailing her fingertips along the curvy form under the thick blankets.

Terra's breath halted mid-lungful. If only Celes had been awake… How exciting! And embarrassing. Also, confusing.

Terra sat up once more. She did have some pressing curiosities. What had happened? How had they gotten here? In fact, where exactly was here? She carefully tried to slip out of the bed to explore, but the mattress complicated things by trying to eat her with its softness. It took several attempts at untangling herself from the bed's ravenous clutches before she crashed face-first to the cool stone floor.

After rising to her feet and brushing herself off, she soon found herself distracted by the reflection in the mirror, her first real look at herself since, well, ever. The brief glance in South Figaro didn't really count as it had been just that. It had disturbed her then and scared her just as much as it conflicted with how she saw herself in her mind's eye. She was so thin, like a skeleton with hair. Her arms and legs were sticks, and even the cute sparkly violet nightgown someone had dressed her in couldn't distract from the ridges of her ribs. These issues, as well as the sunkeness and sharpness of her face, spoke of an extended period of malnourishment. Actually, had she always had such pointed teeth?

She half turned to look at her backside, or at least what little of it was present. What caused her to look like this? Celes didn't look like this; that woman was built like a squishy brickhouse. Terra could grab handfuls of her and still need several more hands for the over-spillage. If Terra were to grab herself with one hand, she'd break several ribs and her spine. At least her hair looked healthy enough. It was long, curly, brightly colored, and shimmered in the morning light. Someone, probably Celes, had taken the time to put it up in a ponytail with red ribbons and tiny white flowers. It was adorable and probably the only part of her that she found beautiful.

Terra sighed and turned away from the haunting image. She was a frightening monster, one that'd send children running in fear and set dogs off howling in nervousness. She was half-tempted to destroy the mirror out of frustration, but a painful rumbling in her belly doubled her over in a distraction. She gritted her teeth in agony and cursed the drool dripping from her chin. This pain, this was… This was hunger! And she was hungry enough to eat a Behemoth whole.

When the ache subsided, she limped her way to the balcony and stared in awe at what spread out before her; desert as far as the eye could see. Sand here. Sand there. Sand everywhere. An occasional cactus or tumbleweed. The land itself was quite barren and desolate, but the real star of the show was the sun rising in the sky with its pinks, golds, deep reds, and violets. A light, warm breeze pushed itself into her personal space by playing with her hair and its ribbons.

They must have made it to Figaro, but…how? When? The last she remembered was getting jumped by a masked man Celes knew from somewhere and then healing the Returner soon afterward. But those memories were fuzzy; in fact, all of their adventures in South Figaro were hazy at best. That masked man must have been a Returner if they were here. But that didn't help in explaining what had happened to her, why she looked the way she did, why she had scars, or why she couldn't remember a damn thing beyond Celes' name. The two soldiers they had come across in South Figaro had filled in some blanks, but only for that night before. Terra was still lost and confused. She still had questions, and it seemed that no one had the answers, not even Celes.

"You're up early," came a groggy voice from behind.

Terra neglected a response and merely hugged herself tightly. It hadn't been hard; she was so thin she could have wrapped her arms around herself at least six times and have arm to spare. She forced a smile, but immediately afterward the corners of her mouth fell.

Celes came up beside her and leaned onto the stone guard wall, presumably to watch the rising sun. "Beautiful, isn't it?" she said.

Terra remained silent and mutely compared herself to the woman in front of her. In her mind's eye, she was healthy looking, scarless, bright-eyed, and rounded, not unlike Celes. In other words, she didn't look like some undead monster. "Celes…?" she stammered out. "What happened to me?"

Celes turned for a gaze and remained quiet for some time. Her facial expressions changed multiple times in a range, almost as if she were trying to work out how best to answer. Finally, before embracing Terra in a hug, she said, "I don't know, sweetheart. But I intend to find out and, if necessary, kick someone's arse."

Terra buried herself in the cuddle and nuzzled Celes' shoulder. She liked it here, encompassed within these protective arms and safe from the monsters of the world, be it animal, man, or man-made. She knew that Celes would protect her, but how she knew escaped her grasp. Not that it mattered anyway. It was such a cliché thing, this feeling, that she could feel it with every breath, as a grumbling pain in her--

No, wait. That was her stomach yelling at her again, this time loud enough for even Celes to hear. She whispered, "I'm hungry."

"I'm not surprised," Celes said. "You look like you haven't eaten in forever and a day." With a reassuring smile, she led Terra back into the room. "I could use some brekkie as well. Let's get dressed and see if Edgar's got something ready."

Terra stopped in the doorway and tried to place a face to that name. Nothing filtered through the fog. "Edgar?" she said. "Who's that? Is he how we got here?"

Celes grinned. "Right. I forgot that you were a bit out of it yesterday. I guess I'll have to fill you in."

"Ah, so the esteemed General Celes Chere and the beautiful assistant to Royal Court Mage Kefka have finally graced us with their collective presence this morning!" That was what had greeted them as soon as they were shown into the elaborately decorated and massively sized dining hall. If looks could kill, the evil eye that Celes was giving would have decimated the man Terra soon learned was Edgar. If he was king, he certainly looked the part with his shining armored chestplate, bright blue jacket, and butt-length blond hair braid.

Why had he referred to her as beautiful when she looked so…monstrous? Why had he referred to her as Kefka's assistant? The first question was puzzling while the second genuinely frightened her to the point she nearly collapsed. Surely, he was mistaken? Terra looked to Celes for an answer but received none, at least not in a conventional sense.

Celes said, "You do remember that: one – I'm no longer a general so stop bloody calling me that. --and two – Terra has amnesia. Watch what you say before I freeze your balls solid." The tone of her voice matched the look on her face; her arms were folded across her chest while her mouth had scrunched up into the tiniest of frowns and embedded itself angrily to one side.

What hadn't been said told Terra what she feared. There had been no denying of Edgar's information, no countering it with something else. She chewed on her bottom lip in concern. This was not a good sign. She didn't particularly like the idea that she had been working around that insane and scary Kefka.

Edgar crossed the gap separating them before bowing, taking Terra's hand in his, and kissing it. To her surprise, her cheeks started burning. What was this he had just done? Was this how Figaro treated horrendously skeletal women who could scare children with one look?

"Pardon my outburst!" he said with an over-abundance of smiles. "Sometimes I forget myself in the presence of a beautiful lady, no less two!"

Celes scoffed and shook her head as if she couldn't believe what had just been said. Terra, on the other hand, was having trouble accepting this handsome blond-haired man as the King of Figaro. She had been expecting some perverted old fart with liver spots and more wrinkles than hair. She tilted her head to one side, letting the world know that she was knee deep in puzzle solving. And why was he so cheerful? Well, aside from the fact that they had saved the Returner operative. Never had she seen anyone smile so damn much. It was confusing, to say the least, but there was a more pressing matter on her mind.

"Um, excuse me, but I had been Kefka's assistant?"

"All in due time, my dear!" Edgar proclaimed as he showed them to a nearby table. "After breakfast! In the meantime, do put yourselves at ease. Former Imperial soldiers are quite secretly welcome here."

Terra wiped the drool from her chin and nearly cried out in joy. How had she missed this upon entering? Edgar had brought them to a table loaded with food enough to feed three armies. Several kinds of toast and jam, many different types of cooked eggs, pancakes and waffles stacked sky high, fruits of various sorts, donuts, and several different types of meat of multiple forms she couldn't name even if she tried. Of course, she didn't care what any of it was called because soon she was going to inhale her fill like a Hoover's Slagworm.

"That's a fact the entire Empire knows, Edgar," Celes said as she took a seat. "You're not exactly subtle in hiding your Returner operations here, mate."

"I dare say I only leak what I want the Empire to know," Edgar said with a chuckle and a waggle of his finger. "In fact, I sometimes share false information to lure them away from where we want to be or what we want. Maranda was one such operation…" He paused as his face went taut. "We just had not counted on the newest general at the time to have been so…talented."

Celes sighed and thanked a servant as mugs of coffee materialized before them. "I was ordered to destroy everyone there," she said. "Men, women, children, the elderly. Returners, civilians. None of that mattered, hey. I started questioning my loyalty after that disaster went arse-up."

Terra, being the type of person that she was, reached over and tried to offer comfort with a hand on a shoulder. Of course, she was also trying not to go nuts with the buttered toast and jam she was munching on. It tasted so good her taste buds were in a frenzy.

Edgar again smiled and motioned towards the table. Taking his cue, she wasted no time in wedging her toast entirely inside her mouth and going hog-wild. Her hand was a blur as she filled a plate with delectable delectables to the point it was overflowing. It all looked so delicious! Despite her curiosities about the Empire, she disregarded the conversation continuing between the other two and instead focused on the beautiful masterpiece before her. She hadn't even taken any bites and could already feel the bacon melting in her mouth. She imagined that its taste was like how it smelled; smoky and magically delicious.

"His maid told you about that?!" Celes screeched in disbelief. She must have been incredibly horrified if her smooth contralto tone pitched that high. She was red-faced with embarrassment and had stood abruptly, if the knocked over chair was anything to go by. The whole ordeal prompted Terra to halt shoveling her first forkful into her increasingly salivating mouth.

"Well, she is my double agent and a damn good one at that. It is her job to report valuable information to me," Edgar said with a frown, the ever-present grin having fallen to the floor and shattered like a pane of cheap glass.

Celes slammed her open palms onto the quivering table in a show of anger. "And who I sleep with is valuable information to you?!" She looked ready to leap onto said table, run across it, and plant a boot in Edgar's mouth. "I'm not some kind of sex-starved twit!"

Terra frowned between the two of them before shrugging her shoulders. Right, the conversation was about that. She remembered the brief conversation she had with Celes the day before and the anger that had threatened to show itself; it was the same anger that was trying to weasel its way out as she listened in now. Was it jealousy, perhaps? She couldn't be sure, but she felt that she had been right to have dropped it in the first place based on Celes' current reaction.

"My dear Celes, believe me when I tell you that I have the utmost of respect for you," Edgar said. "I sent her to you only to find out if you could be swayed to our cause."

"Bloody hell, you knob! I thought we were mates, hey! You could have just asked me!"

An eyebrow raised. "Ah, but would you have told me the truth?"

Celes' features softened. She paused for a moment before shaking her head. "No, probably not."

"Now you can appreciate why I sent an undercover agent to enquire on my behalf. I had anticipated that you would have opened up in the presence of another woman, but I had not expected you to woo her and open up in that regard!"

Edgar chuckled and winked, causing a scowl to spread across Celes' thin lips. "You're such a bloody pervert, Figaro," she said as she crossed her arms.

"If it is any consolation to you, it is because of her that I found you outside of South Figaro. And worry not about your 'secret.' Only she and I had shared this information with each other, mostly because I had enquired as to why she had checked in late. However, bear in mind that the nation of Figaro is progressive enough to care not about one's background or sexuality, only their well-being. This applies to you, especially. We are not Vector. We've come past the dark days of the War of the Magi."

The conversation turned dull once again, causing Terra to reset her focus to something that she understood and didn't make her confusingly angry. Breakfast. It called to her like a siren to a sailor, tempting her with its wiles and seductive smells. She readied her fork for battle. This was it. There was no going back now. In taking her first bite, it was a struggle to remain sitting upright, her body contorting from the full body orgasm that started in her mouth. It took every ounce of self-control not to moan audibly. It. Was. Just. So. Good.

At some point, Celes had righted her chair and filled her plate. She merely sat there, poking and prodding at what she had gathered. Terra stopped shoveling food into her mouth long enough to consider enquiring about her well-being but Edgar suddenly leaped to his feet, his expression one of an excited puppy dog with a new toy. The servant who had been whispering in his ear had fallen backward from the suddenness of his movements.

"I must beg your pardon, ladies," he said. "Something pressing I must oversee has just presented itself. We shall discuss things upon my return."

Terra watched him gracefully exit the room before turning her attention to Celes. Might as well ask now that there were no distractions other than bacon. "Are you okay, Celes?"

Celes continued to move eggs around her plate with disinterest. "Yeah, I'll be alright," she said. "I'm just…really regretting a decision I made a few weeks ago."

In between every bite of delight, Terra managed to spew out with crumbs, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, it's alright, sweetheart. Talking won't do much good. It's just something I have to learn live with, you know?"

Terra thought she understood, but she hadn't been entirely sure. She couldn't remember if she had made mistakes like that and had to deal with the consequences later on. Now that she thought about it, maybe her current situation was the result of something similar. Maybe she had made a grave mistake that robbed her of her memories and everything else, and now she had to 'live with it.' She shook her head to clear it. No, not now. Later. Right now, delicious food. Then thinking.

Time passed as the two women sat and ate in near silence. With tunnel vision having set in, Terra had nonstop devoured enough to feed five burly men. When she had finally hit the limit of what she could shove down her gullet, all she could do was slump in her chair and lovingly caress her distended belly underneath the straining fabric of her dress. She groaned in pleasure, unable to strike off the stupid grin she felt on her face.

Celes showed a grin of amusement and rested her head in a hand that, in turn, was propped up on the table. "Well, I'd say someone looks happy," she said. Terra could only respond with a nod and a hiccup, which brought forth stifled laughter from them both. "Silly bugger."

While her belly was now full, the memory banks in her mind were still relatively empty or, at the very least, inaccessible. All she honestly knew at this point was that Celes was her best friend, but she had an inkling that wasn't entirely accurate. The exact nature of their relationship eluded her, much like everything else for that matter. She couldn't explain why she felt the way she did; she just did. It was like trying to tell why the sky was blue without knowing the scientific reason. It just was.

She was especially curious and frightened about being labeled as an assistant to the most feared man in the Imperial army. Perhaps that had been the mistake she had made? Perhaps he had done things to her or forced her to do things that had caused her to forget everything so she could live without regrets. Baldur's Gate, that was a disturbing thought and opened up doorways to even more disturbing thoughts. Had she been forced to kill, maim, and mutilate? Had she been forced to destroy? Had he…forced himself upon her?

Terra shuddered at the thought of the possibility of her being intimate with that guy and prayed that it simply was just that: a thought.

Thankfully, these horrible thoughts were interrupted by the reemergence of Edgar and the dark-haired Returner they had rescued. He looked ten times better than he had yesterday. His eyes were bright, his color clear, and a smile dominated his face. He was quite a handsome fellow but in an anti-masculine sort of way, contrasted with Edgar who very much embodied what it was to be a civilized man.

"Celes, Terra, may I introduce the one whom you two saved yesterday from an uncertain fate," Edgar said. "My friend and colleague, treasure hunter Locke Cole." In a mock whisper and with a waggle of his finger, he added, "Just refrain from calling him a thief. Otherwise, he might just rip your lungs out if you do!"

Locke's expression and posture deflated with a sigh. "I'm not that violent, am I?" he said with a whine of complaint.

Edgar laughed before extending a hand out to Terra, who just stared at it in confusion. "Terra," he said, "I would like Locke to take you around the castle and show you just what separates my kingdom from any other."

"A mysterious basement," Celes said with a hint of tease.

"Hush you," Edgar countered.

Terra took Edgar's hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. "Just me?" she said from behind burning cheeks. "But what about Celes?" She nervously looked at said woman seated beside her who, by this point, had propped her booted feet on the table. She didn't like the idea of being separated. It made her uneasy mostly because she didn't know either of these two men. But then again, she didn't really know herself. Or Celes now that she thought about it.

"I've already seen it all," said Celes as she locked her hands behind her head. She raised an eyebrow towards Edgar. "Except whatever's hiding in that basement."

"A king surely must be allowed to have his secrets, my dear," Edgar said with a grin and a finger pointed skywards. This prompted a snort of amusement from Celes.

"But--" Terra's gaze nervously switched between every person in the room. "I--"

Edgar bent down and once again kissed the back of her hand. "Pardon me, my dear," he said, "but there is much I wish to discuss with the general--"

"Former general," came an interjection.

"Yes. --former general, so if you would please excuse us."

Terra weakly nodded and pushed her frown down to the farthest corner of her mouth. She reluctantly followed the grinning Locke to the large double doors but stopped just shy of exiting. She looked back to give Celes one last pleading look to follow. Only a smile and a nod were received in response. If Celes trusted these people enough to let her guard down as she had, then Terra supposed she'd have to learn to do the same. She flashed a weak smile before joining Locke in the hallway.

As soon as the doors had shut of their own accord, Locke mauled her with a tight hug. "I owe you my life for what you've done for me!" he said. "If you ever need anything at all, just ask!"

Terra's first desired response was fight and flight, but it quickly dawned on her that this wasn't a malicious hug. This was a direct response to her actions, to her healing magic. As she returned the hug, a thought occurred. This was why she wanted to use her magic to heal.

Celes leaned back in her chair, balancing it precariously on two legs. "You know, I never did thank you for the help yesterday," she said.

Edgar laughed. "Why, am I witnessing the Ice Queen humbling herself enough to thank a man for rescuing her?" he said. "I never thought I would live to see the day!"

"You didn't rescue us, sand-for-brains. We were well on our way to Figaro."

He bowed. "Of course, my dear! If that is how you wish to see it, then so be it! However, I shall have my version, and you shall have yours!"

"Whatever floats your boat, mate."

Truth be told, it truly had been a rescue, but she was too proud to admit it. She had led both herself and Terra into a hornet's nest exhausted and ill-prepared for what had been awaiting them. If Edgar hadn't shown up when he had, Locke wouldn't have made it without Terra's magical intervention, nor would Celes had been able to carry two incapacitated individuals. Then there had been the surprising emergence of the Tunnel Armor in South Figaro Cave. While she had dealt the final devastating blow, by way of creative use of her magic absorbing Runic ability, if she had been battling that thing by herself they all would have perished. The irony of it had been that she had approved of its construction.

And then after arriving in Figaro Castle, she had pulled Edgar aside and enquired about a favor under the guise that it could aid the Returners as well as herself. If her suspicions were correct, and she feared they were, Edgar had dismissed Terra from the room for concerns that she wouldn't have the emotional capacity to handle his information. This meant it wasn't good news.

Celes dropped her feet to the floor and stood. "I take it you found something?" she said barely above a whisper.

Edgar frowned and tossed a twisted and melted tiara onto the table where it bounced before settling with a metallic rattle. "I did indeed," he said in a low register. "I had my best engineers peer into this lovely specimen you have provided us. I personally double-checked their findings once presented to me." He chuckled. "You shall never guess what they found."

"If I could I wouldn't have asked for your 'expert' opinion."

"Oh, you spoilsport!" he said with a pout. "You do realize that this is why I gave you that flattering nickname of yours?"

Celes buried her face in a palm. "Edgar, we can reminisce about the first time I froze your balls to your throne later." She picked up the tiara and inspected it once more. It looked innocent enough, but the regret of asking Edgar to unlock its secrets started to make her hands shake. She had a sinking feeling that Terra wasn't the only one who'd struggle with this. "I'm going to regret saying this, but you found slave crown technology."

Edgar's face turned taut as he nodded a confirmation. "The Empire's very own adapted for the human mind."

A blizzard of anger chilled the room as she snapped the innocuous headgear in twain. That fucking clown! They had discussed using slave crown tech on Returners to create psychological weapons, but even the Emperor had vetoed it down. The technology was just too inhumane! And the Emperor shooting it down spoke volumes considering his sadistic view.

Edgar continued, "This is the first I have heard of the Empire using a slave crown on a person. Based on what you mentioned of her sudden change in working for Kefka, I would not be surprised if he coerced her to wear this for his own amusement."

Celes sighed in frustration and buried her face in both her hands. Or worse. She wanted to cry for Terra's sake. She could only imagine what kind of tasks she had been forced to perform. What had he done to her? How many people had he forced her to kill? Had he…forced himself upon her? Had she been aware of it all as it happened? She hoped that hadn't been the case and, for once in the few days, was grateful that Terra couldn't remember. Just looking at her spoke volumes about her time spent under Kefka's care.

"Do you think this is what caused her memory loss?" she asked after emerging from her hands.

Edgar shrugged as he rubbed his chin in thought. "I am not sure," he said with uncertainty. "I lack detailed knowledge of medical science, but if I were to make an educated hypothesis, I would say mayhap. Either she has forgotten due to the horrendous acts she had been forced to perform, or the energy of the Narshean esper interacted negatively with the crown as well as her mind, an idea, I believe, validated by Locke's story, as well as those from your drunken soldiers."

"So, are you saying that's also what caused her to change into some kind of cat thing and gain new magical abilities?"

"Of the two of us, you have the most experience with espers. You shall have to tell me."

"I may have been infused with esper magic, but that doesn't mean I've ever seen one."

"I cannot say, Celes. I lack the neces'ry information."

At the end of the day, no matter which scenario they went with it didn't change the fact that it was a horrible situation that had Kefka and the Empire written all over it. The Empire had raised both her and Terra when no one else would and had given them both the gift of magic. For that, she'd always be thankful, but Kefka's actions towards Terra, the kingdom of Doma, herself and the Empire's blatant disregard for the world, in general, was inexcusable. This was the final straw. This could not be ignored. She was single-handedly going to bring Kefka down or die trying.

She and Edgar looked up when the doors burst open, allowing a panicked Locke and Terra into the room. Locked slammed the doors shut and leaned against them, while Terra tearfully dove into Celes' arms and shivered in a frenzy. Celes looked to Edgar when no explanation for either behavior was given.

"Well, out with it, man!" Edgar said. "Surely you must have news of something dire after bursting into a room like that!"

Locke breathlessly nodded his head. "Sorry, man," he wheezed out, "but we just caught wind that Kefka's on his way to the castle and--"

Edgar clapped his hands together with a grin larger than the desert in which his castle stood. "I do say," he said with giddy laughter, "as I expected! Kefka is right on time!"

Locke stared with a bewildered expression that showed purely through his eyes. "You've got to be kidding me," he said. "You were expecting him and didn't put any defenses in place?!"

Celes growled and allowed an icy block to form around her free hand. She said, "I'm going to fucking--" She stopped when a hand dropped on her shoulder.

"Not here and not with your emotions on high," Edgar said, almost a little too cheerfully. "Both you and Terra still must meet our leader, Banon, who, if I am not mistaken, is on his way to Narshe right now to see that esper of theirs. You cannot do that if you are dead in the ground, yes?"

She locked her angry gaze onto his excited one before finally relenting. He was right, but it didn't change the fact that she wanted to smash her fist into Kefka's face. "I take it you have a plan?"

There was another excited clap of Edgar's hands followed by an equally enthusiastic response. "A good king always has the perfect escape plan," he said with a boast. "Now, shall we make our escape to Narshe with a daring good show?"

^[1] This is usually what one chances upon when lost in Indecision after an excruciating indeterminate amount of time.^[return]

Chapter Text

"Edgar, you pinhead!" came a shout from atop a nearby sand dune. "Why in the gods' name did your retarded ancestors make their kingdom in the middle of a freaking desert?!" A cloud of sand followed suit, erupting from the summit like a volcanic explosion.

Wedge and Biggs hid their faces behind their arms and sputtered through the gritty onslaught. They had been traveling for the better part of the morning; the time well spent getting used to Lord Kefka's temper tantrums. The act had been frightening the first time, but the sheer frequency in which it took place forced it under a label of somewhere between half-past humorous and minutes to mundane. The over-the-top child-like kicking and screaming did not change between each bout, almost as if a scratched seventy-eight vinyl record had possessed Kefka and the reality that was his player eternally had him stuck in a loop. It was no different to getting lost and walking in circles past the same rock formation twenty times, which, unfortunately, had happened as Vicks had lost the map somewhere in South Figaro Cave.^[1]

Wedge sighed and joined Lord Kefka on the dune. Castle Figaro could be seen in the distance, but whether it was real and not a mirage wavering in the heat was the hundred million gil question. Hope was high in the group that this was the last dune they'd have to cross and that soon they'd be knocking on Figaro's door so to speak. Also, the MagiTek Armor pilots were complaining of sand in their joints and standard grunts of it in their pants. Shit just got everywhere whether one wanted it or not and it was annoying.

The feeling of an angry gaze boring into him was strong, making Wedge feel as if he were on fire. A clearing of a throat nearly made him jump out of uniform. "There's sand on my boots, you dunderheads!" Lord Kefka said with a snarl and a threat of a magical fireball.

"Vicks!" Wedge managed to squeak out despite fear throwing a monkey wrench into the act. "Lord Kefka has sand on his boots!" He hadn't intended on his voice cracking the way it had, but the threat of being charred like spare ribs squeezed the effect out of him like sauce from a bottle.

In a shower of gritty sand, Biggs dove to the ground to wipe Lord Kefka's boots to a smudgy shine with his grimy well-used handkerchief. Surely, their superior realized that no matter how many times they cleaned his boots at his command that the whole process was bound to repeat? Sand just got everywhere regardless of how careful one was. The whole game was utterly useless and a complete time waster.

Thinking about it, that was probably the point. Kefka seemed to take immense pleasure from the suffering and fear of others. He ran around unchecked because no one was foolish enough to challenge him, lest they desire to scoop their testicles out of their pants with tortilla chips. Only General Chere had been brave enough to do so, probably due to her lack of said testicles. Whether or not she had been punished for it was unknown, but that probably had been why she had been in the Figaro area to begin with.

Vicks stood and gave a shaky salute to Lord Kefka. "There you are, sir!" he sputtered. "All clean, sir! Pleasure was mine, sir! And the name is Biggs, sir!"

Kefka laughed himself to tears before immediately switching back to anger with a snarl of "Idiots!" He slid down the sandy slope and moodily stormed his way towards the castle.

Wedge nodded in agreement when Biggs shot him a look that screamed, "Kill me now, sir." He motioned for the battalion of soldiers and MagiTek Armor pilots behind him to move out. As he followed the lead down the mountain of sand, he prayed that this business in Figaro would be lanced, disinfected, and bandaged quickly. He didn't exactly know how long his sanity could take being personally led around the northern continent by the Empire's resident madman.

They traveled the remainder of the way in soul-sucking silence, all the way up to the open and inviting gates of Figaro Castle. Wedge could feel that the mood of the group had become more nervous and apprehensive than usual. It had nothing to do with what they'd find behind the walls of stone and metal; they already knew that it was a place of technological wonder that catered to Returner scum when no one was looking. It purely had everything to do with the one leading them to this location, the very same one who planted his painted face right against the young Figarian soldier guarding the gates.

The boy, who looked no more than that of school age, voiced his squeaky surprise at their arrival with nonsense. This prompted Kefka to bark, "Get out of my way!" and shove him to the ground in a heap of arms and legs. At least he hadn't been killed on the spot.

"That is no way to speak to my gate guard." The voice from the inside belonged to that of His Royal Highness King Edgar Figaro, a man who materialized in the center of the gateway from absolutely nowhere. Wedge had always imagined King Edgar as being a fat and lazy, pompous egomaniac of a man, and was somewhat surprised to find him quite built for a royal and even more ready to defend his citizens personally. The colossal and deadly looking mechanical crossbow holstered on his back dictated just how far the king was willing to go.

Amusingly, even Kefka seemed startled by King Edgar's sudden armed appearance. Wedge took great pleasure in that rare sight.

"My, my, Lord Kefka," King Edgar said with several tsking clucks of his tongue. "You have such a large group with you to, one would assume, speak with me in Imperial matters."

Aside from lazy and pompous, most of the Imperial higher-ups had made King Edgar out to be severely lacking in character and intelligence. With this being Wedge's first meeting of the man in person, he was getting a strong impression that a lot of smoke had been blown. King Edgar's tone gave the impression that he knew how to read between the lines.

"You would not be thinking of invading me, would you? That would be such a dastardly grievance against our alliance."

Wedge shared a brief glance of surprise with Biggs. Gave the impression? Scratch that. The King of Figaro knew exactly what was going on. There had been no questioning in his words, despite them being questions. The tone reflected that of a statement, an accusation. Was there a mole in the Imperial army? Could it have been the ghost of General Chere? Had she faked her death to join the Returners?!

Lord Kefka seemed frozen in place with not much to say in response. The look of shock on his face was larger than his nose was long. To many of the present soldiers, Wedge included, this was a first for them and a sight to behold; a Kodak moment. Whatever that was.

"We're currently chasing after two females that escaped our custody," Kefka said after recovering himself. "We heard they were taking refuge here and were merely hoping that you'd be willing to help us." Not everyone would have been able to see that devious grin as Kefka bowed in mock fealty, but Wedge saw it plain as day. This screamed one thing: the play was still going on, but all the dialogue was being improvised as they went along.

"I see," King Edgar said as he rubbed his chin. "Would this happen to have anything to do with the whispers of a Fire Witch I've been hearing so much about in recent months? Or perhaps the unfortunate perishing of General Chere?"

Wedge snorted. Try both. Either the man was damn bloody good at guessing, or the Empire didn't give him enough credit for his intelligence.

"Lies and slander, my dear Edgar!" Lord Kefka exclaimed with a cackle. "These ladies merely stole something of minor value!" He leaned forward and, with a growl, whispered "Are they here?"

Edgar shrugged. "That would be a tough one, milord. There are more girls here in Figaro than there are grains of sand in Figaro Desert! Each one just as unique as the next! A man such as myself could not possibly keep track of them all!"

"For shame, Edgar!" Kefka said with a giggle. "Aiding Imperial fugitives is counter-productive. Be a smart boy and fork 'em over. Today." The final word had been uttered in a drawn-out growl that would have made the hair on even the most veteran of soldiers stand on end. However, what had caught Wedge's attention had been the spark of magical fire in Kefka's hand.

"I am afraid, Lord Kefka, that I am ignorant on this matter."

"Well, then! Welcome to my barbecue!" Kefka laughed with child-like delight before letting his fireball fly. In what had been perceived as slow-motion, the ball of fire screamed across the sand toward its intended target, King Edgar. It spun like a curveball. Individual flames got confused and arced out its behind. Two-thirds of the way there, it dissipated into clouds of smoke when sliced in half by a glowing sword.

Wait. What?

The smoke swirled around and disappeared into the blade as if said blade was feeding off the energy. Its light pulsated as it rose to a battle-ready position. It was only when Lord Kefka barked nonsense in surprise, and the rest of the army murmured to itself did Wedge realize who was holding said two-handed weapon. It was General Chere, the Ice Queen, the uniform pilferer, resurrected in the browns and blues of Returner colors. In the few years he had served under her, he had never seen her wield such an unwieldy weapon; it was as long as a man was tall and half as wide. And it certainly must have weighed as much! Of course, he had never thought he'd see the day that the Ice Queen would renounce ties with the Empire.

"You…!" Kefka had spat that personal pronoun out like a mouthful of something horribly foul tasting and rotten. In this instance, the word had taken on a meaning of more than just what was printed in the dictionary.

General Chere flashed a cheeky smirk in Lord Kefka's direction before using a hand to brush her hair from her eyes, as if the intent had been to show that she could wield her bulky, massive two-hander single-handedly. Behind her, King Edgar stood defiantly with a hand at the ready on his crossbow. "Oh, I do apologize, milord," he said with the grin of a man who believed he held all the winning cards. "Is this charming young lady one of the two you seek? How daft of me! Silly king!"

Silent, but not unseen, venom was spat between Lord Kefka and General Chere. Her face seemed to darken the longer it remained locked on him while he turned frustrated like a sputtering and backfiring clown-faced jalopy. The normally sadistic Kefka usually had words for everything, but in this instance, it appeared that there were no words to describe whatever it was that he was feeling or thinking. Or perhaps he had too many words to spit out in one go.

A dull roar awakened behind Wedge as soldiers began murmuring about the General's resurrection. "She's a Returner zombie!" cried one.

"Please don't eat our brains, General!" cried another.

"Anyone of you who dares defy our actions today will not walk away with your lives intact. I'll personally see to it," General Chere said with a hint of visible frost on her breath. She single-handedly swung her blade menacingly, cutting the air with a deep-toned FWUM. As an afterthought, she added, "I'll make you wish I had eaten your brains."

An explosion behind him caught Wedge's attention. A large fireball had exploded in the center of their group of grunts, sending some up in smoke and still others running for their lives. Before he could fully grasp the situation, a shrill whistle assaulted his ears while the ground violently shook him like an ant in a bowl full of gelatin. Was this…? Was this an earthquake?! Behind all the noise, he could hear Kefka attempts to reign control over the group with threats.

From behind the castle, the rogue green-haired sheila and that Returner bloke they had captured in Narshe rode up on chocobos and plucked up both the King and General before speeding off in high gear. Rather than bark orders to inspire the men to capture them, Wedge just stood in place and watched them escape, shock and envy rooting him to one spot. He couldn't believe it! The Returners had anticipated their arrival!

The green-haired girl looked back at them and, with a wave of her hand, magically sent more soldiers flying through the air with another fiery explosion. While it was the same young woman that had accompanied he and Vicks to Narshe, she was different this time around—a far cry from the blank look of deadly intent she had worn then. Fear had molded the expression on her face this time. He felt justified in his assumption that there had been more to her than met the eye.

Kefka snuffed out a flame that had started eating his sleeve and sneered with a giggle, "The brave and noble king abandons his people to run off with the Ice Queen leaving the castle mine for the taking! How delightfully scandalous!" He cackled like a crazy man before grabbing the nearest grunt and screaming in his face, "What are you idiots doing?! Don't just dance around the fire like popcorn! Go after them! Kill them!"

The forgotten gate guard had returned to his feet at some point and boldly shoved Kefka out of the courtyard. "Nobody touches the people of Figaro," he said with venom as he yanked on the chain to slam the gate shut. The solid metal gate hit the ground just in time for a fireball to fizzle out on it. At this point, Wedge realized that the castle was quickly sinking beneath the sand, much like a cannonball ripping through icy waters. Could Figaro honestly do that with its entire castle city? Not even Vector had magic enough to make the city disappear, and it was the most powerful nation in the world!

A MagiTek Armor off in the distance exploded into a goodness-gracious great ball of fire. Wedge merely frowned at this while Kefka stamped his feet into the sand with another tantrum. "Son of a submariner! This is why I can't have nice things!" he screamed. "I'll get you for this, you man-handed bimbo! You're not off the hook either, you spoony king!"

Wedge sighed and began tending to the nearby wounded. This wasn't good. It wasn't good at all, but at least he hadn't soiled himself this time.

Celes had an inkling that Terra's grip on the chocobo's reins was strong enough to turn coal into diamond. Not only was she running their mount at a breakneck speed, but she was also stiff in the saddle—gaze straight ahead and never wavering as if frozen in fear. They had passed out of Figaro Desert's Sandopolis Ruins and entered the Emerald Hills long ago. They were in the middle of nowhere; Kefka and the Imperial army were miles behind choking on the castle's sand. There was nothing near here to fear aside from the isolation of Narshe, but that was beside the point.

Of course, Terra could have been acting this way in response to learning the true nature of her relationship with Kefka. They say hindsight is twenty/twenty, whatever that meant^[2], but she had adopted a set of sad puppy dog eyes and a quivering lip with which no one (especially Celes) could disagree. It had been a look that had nearly warmed Celes' heart to slushy ice. But if this was the result of that, she should have listened to her gut instinct and never said a word.

While maintaining her balance with one hand on Terra's waist, she reached behind to double check that her two-handed cleaver was still on her back. It was a strange sensation having it held in place not by straps and a scabbard like Terra's new twin katana, but by… What had Edgar called them? Neodymium magnets? He had claimed that they were stronger than the average everyday magnet because of science or something. And that they were woven into her jacket. Still, it was weird that the sheer weight of it didn't pull her clothes off which gave her the need to check every once in a while to make sure it all was still there. She just needed to accept the science behind it much like how she had forced everyone to accept that she could lift the monstrous thing single-handed with ease. It was what it was.

The real shocker had been Figaro Castle retrofit with submersible technology. Any sort of machinery used for such a thing had to have been expensive for the people of Figaro, but Baldur's Gate, was it a great defense. Luckily for Edgar, most of the Imperial high command thought he was a joke, not realizing the full extent of his non-MagiTek technological advancements. But now that Figaro had officially declared war against the Empire that was bound to change in a nasty way. Celes now understood why he never allowed her access to the basement. She had been an Imperial then and such tech, MagiTek or not, would have been snatched for Emperor Gestahl's own purpose.

To think that she had entertained the thought of Edgar holding a harem down there. Seemed so silly now.

A submersible Vector Palace, the thought made Celes shudder. The Empire was already the world's only superpower that had access to espers, the driving force behind MagiTek and super soldiers such as Terra and herself. It didn't need the ability to hide underground as well. Otherwise, it'd be even more unstoppable than what it already was.

She shook such dangerous thoughts from her head. Now that she thought about it, she had never seen an esper before, despite her ice coming from one. The last time she had been on the inside of the MagiTek Facility had been a chocobo's age ago, and even then, she hadn't been awake for the procedure. Scant few had access to the Devil's Lab and even fewer had unlimited access. Supposedly, mistakes made with Kefka brought about the rules of no one allowed and all future MagiTek Knights be unconscious. No one knew for sure, and any who asked found themselves entombed in concrete or sleeping with the fishes. Or both.

The present came crashing back with startled warking when Terra nearly rammed into Edgar and Locke's mount. When Celes saw that they had been on a collision course straight for a long drop off into the river, that both men had tried to prevent, she pried the reins from Terra's hands and single-handedly urged their chocobo into a reasonable pace back towards their original direction.

Celes sighed in frustration. She had gotten lost in her thoughts again and had completely missed the warning signs of the danger they had been stampeding towards. She tried to give the now shivering and lip-biting Terra some comfort but ended up fighting strawberry scented, wind-whipped emerald curls to see the path ahead. Such things didn't matter to the swooning princess who lived in a mental closet. It was the grumpy icy general who had the problem, although she did start melting with the first whiff of whatever shampoo Terra had used.

"It's okay, Terra," Celes said with a whisper and a nuzzle. "We're safe for the time being." It had also been another way of asking her to stop biting herself to the point of bleeding. Terra only responded with a nod and a nervous smile of acknowledgment, but the chewing continued. It had been worth a shot at least.

"Did you see all that fire and ice back there?" said an excited Locke from a few paces behind.

"That was magic, my friend," Edgar chimed in. "These two ladies are not only beautiful to the eye but certainly loaded for bear! We shan't worry about bandits after nightfall for sure."

"Wow! Magic! You know how much easier fighting's going to be?"

Celes scoffed and tightened her grip on the reins. In the military, she hadn't tolerated the men making comments about her. She couldn't count on one hand how many times she had to knee someone in the balls who failed to understand that no meant no. In the back of her mind, she knew that neither Edgar or Locke meant harm with their conversation. Unfortunately, old habits died hard; she couldn't stop the words from leaving her lips.

"Oi! You know we can hear you?" she barked. "We're human beings, not circus animals performing tricks for your amusement! Both of you, stop swooning before I freeze your balls together!"

Locke muttered, "And just like that the magic is gone."

"Indeed," Edgar replied in a slower and softer pace than usual.

Celes hadn't been sure which stung more, Locke's accurate observation or Edgar's agreement. The most damning of them all, though, was the look that Terra gave her from the corner of her eye, located somewhere between uncomfortable and unimpressed. She was half tempted to jump off and hide in the forest somewhere. They had been discussing magic, and she had threatened them as if they had been perverts. Well, Edgar was one regardless, but still, she had crossed a line. The embarrassment of the gaff burned her all over and influenced her to spur the chocobo into a faster gait. The more distance she put between herself and them, the better. She could feel their shock and surprise hanging in the air like a thick layer of suffocating acrid smoke.

The group traveled on in silence for what felt like hours; it was a frame of time that Celes took to focus on her mistake like a festering wound of which there was no reprieve. She usually had a tight rein on her emotions. Well, except her anger. That always tended to get the best of her, but in the military, with rowdy male soldiers, justification was usually right around the corner. Here in the now, all she had were excuses and her stubborn pride prevented her from making it right. The fact that she was burning out from the curveballs that life had thrown her way so rapidly over the last forty-eight hours weren't helping matters.

She needed a drink. Or two. Maybe three. Fuck it. She needed the whole barrel.

After some time, Locke and Edgar started conversing amongst themselves about what she believed to be unclassified Returner operations.^[3] It hadn't been anything she didn't already know and, as such, lost interest fairly quickly. Edgar had probably chosen the subject on purpose to hammer home that she was not explicitly trusted just yet.

They're not going to trust you when you insult them for admiring you. This isn't Vector, hey, scolded the princess. Magic is unheard of up here in the north, y'know.

Shut up. No one asked for your opinion, said the general.

"You didn't have to be so mean," Terra said from behind a mass of wind-whipped curls. She turned her head enough to glare at Celes with a single eye and half a frown. "I can justify you being an arse to someone trying to kill us, but I don't think Locke or Edgar deserved that outburst."

Celes sighed and avoided Terra's glaring stare by fixing her gaze on the path ahead. "I'm sorry." If there was one thing that hadn't changed with memory loss, it was Terra's ability to make her uncomfortable with just a look.

Terra snorted. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, hey."

More awkward and suffocating silence followed until Edgar suggested they break at a nearby thicket of trees to give their chocobos a rest. Terra disappeared soon afterward to fill everyone's canteens from the river hidden in the forest, though Celes suspected that move had been purposefully made. She really didn't want to be the one to break the ice as she was better at creating it, but neither Locke or Edgar looked too keen to do so either.

You could always ask about the weather or talk about breasts. Men love those, said the closet princess with a giggle.

The general, unamused, said, Ha, ha. Fuck off. Both are stupid suggestions.

After a perceived century passed, Edgar finally produced a hand and held it out for a shake. "I apologize," he said.

Celes stared at Edgar's hand a moment before taking it in her own. She nearly had a heart attack when he pulled her in close for a quick and friendly embrace. It didn't take long for the frown levees to break allowing the burning of embarrassment to spread. The expected 'accidental' grope never happened either, which was surprising.

"Yeah, I'm sorry too," Locke added with a lopsided grin and an embarrassed hand hiding behind his head. "It's just that I've never actually seen magic before. I'd only heard about it from my grandmother's stories. I didn't stop to think about how someone would feel about my gawking."

Celes took some time to string words together in her head, impregnating the atmosphere with awkwardness. She didn't want to make an ass of herself further by saying something stupid. She sighed and lamely said, "I've gotten so used to shouting blokes down that it just happens. If anyone should apologize, it should be me."

Edgar laughed and clapped a hand on her shoulder. "I understand, my dear," he said. "I too must sometimes defend myself from the attempts of misguided men and old women. It can lead to some…debilitating frustrations."

Men, as well as women, hit on Edgar? He was either blowing smoke, or he certainly knew better what she went through more than he let on. "You mean like punching someone in the face?" Celes said with a smirk.

"I have entertained the thought, yes, but never followed through. I am not as violent as you are, Celes."

Celes scoffed; she'd show him violent. The chance to continue the conversation died when a bloodcurdling scream echoed throughout the valley. Her hand immediately went to her blade's hilt as she visually searched for the source. The forest beside them parted enough to reveal the most gigantic and ugliest octopus she had ever seen. Gooey saliva dripped from the sharp teeth behind its mouth covering beak. Bulbous inky eyes regarded them hungrily. A frightened Terra thrashed about within its suctiony purple tentacles. That had been Terra's bloodcurdling scream!

The octopus grinned and laughed at them, though as friendly as anyone would have liked. "Hiya, kids!" it said as spittle spewed from its mouth like ocean spray. "Welcome to my humble kingdom!" It let loose a shrill and nasally cackle as it made a broad sweep with a tentacle.

Celes dropped her expression like a stone and said, "What the bloody hell is that thing?" So help her, if that thing harmed Terra, she was going to slaughter it, dump a literal shit-ton of salt on it, and watch it do a zombie break-dance as she simple-mindedly laughed and clapped her hands. She tried boring holes into its slimy head with her eyes but found it didn't work as well as she had hoped.

"What am I?" the octopus sneered. If it had a chest or torso of some kind, it would have been thrust out in the very image of over-exaggerated male bravado that made women roll their eyes and men drool like star-struck dimwits. "You're in the presence of octopus royalty! Ultros is my name and creating a harem of ladies is my game! And don't you forget it, bimbo! Pay your respects by kneeling at my beak! Or…you can do like your minty fresh friend here and let me rub my tentacles all over that…luscious body of yours."

It was creepy enough watching a man lick his lips with lust and undesired attention, but watching an octopus trying to do the same with a lipless beak was an entirely new level. Celes forcefully disengaged her sword from its magnetic holster and adopted a fighting stance. She wasn't in the mood to be some snack food's sexual plaything. She was, however, in the mood for practicing her sashimi preparation skills. "Edgar," she said brusquely, "man the long range. Locke, use your thieving skills to sneak up on this pervo bastard and stab him in the arsehole."

"Uh, Celes, I'm a treasure hunter," Locke said meekly as if she had told him the sky was purple and he had been too nice to call her out on it. "Also, do octopuses even have assholes?"

"Now's not the time for semantics, retard!" Celes called back as she went from standing to full sprint. She wasted no time in going airborne with a leap, her massive blade poised above her head for a powerful gravity assisted blow. Unfortunately, she ended up cleaving nothing but grass as the tentacle she had been targeting disappeared. When it started raining arrows around her, it hadn't taken the mental capacity of a genius to figure out what had happened. Ultros had used that very appendage to protect his face from projectiles.

"What does that thing fire?" he said in between cackles of amusement. "Spitwads?"

Edgar swore in response.

Celes made haste in bolting upright before cocking her blade and upper body back for a mighty blow. She focused as much magical ice energy into the tip of the blade as she could despite it being about as easy as balancing several pounds of ice cubes on a point the size of a pinhead. When she swung her blade, with much fast and furiousness, the attack had been miles away from her intended target, but striking on the swing hadn't been her intention. Instead, it had been the spinning buzz-saw ring of ice that materialized from said swing and flew haphazardly towards Ultros. It connected at his beak and shattered into fragments that cut and embedded into his tentacles.

Ultros recoiled and bellowed in pain. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to feed the octopus, Boobs McKenzie?! Especially cold, sharp things!" Even at a fair distance away the god-awful stench of the briny sea on his breath hit like a brick wall. Of course, if she could smell that, then that also meant that she was within tentacle reaching distance.

Before Celes could jump back, a rubbery appendage slapped itself against the broadside of her blade with a wet sounding THLOCK. She muttered, "Oh, fuck me running," and a split second later, she was holding on for dear life as Ultros swung her across the battlefield—from one side to the other, the ground to the sky and back again. It was stomach churning, like riding in a runaway rolling coaster. Whatever that was. Terra screaming her name didn't help matters. Neither did her feet bashing into Locke as she flew past him at blinding speed. "I'm not a god damn yo-yo, you overgrown snack!" she shouted. Her arms were screaming as well. If this kept up, they would rip from their sockets and then… How could the heroine save the girl if she had no arms?!

As quickly as it had started, the thrashing stopped, halting her at eye level with the strange creature holding them hostage. "Now that's just rude, lady!" Ultros said before clamping her nose and mouth shut with another tentacle. "I'm at the very least a full-fledged entrée! So take it back!"

An attempt to quench the burning in her lungs failed, forcing Celes to claw at her face in a panic. She couldn't remove the tentacle to any degree. It was stuck tight! She tried casting ice magic to free herself, but every attempt either fizzled out and missed wildly due to her panic. With that failing, she resorted to kicking furiously in the hopes that she'd connect with something, anything, that wasn't air.

"Unhand them, you fiend!" Edgar cried. Soon after, Celes watched as Ultros used her very own sword to volley a cloud of arrows back towards the boys. Edgar took refuge behind his crossbow leaving Locke to dodge it all with his thief magic.^[4]

There was no way they could win against this thing. The boys couldn't get close, and both she and Terra were caught in its briny clutches. She mentally screamed in agony. Her lungs were starving. Tunnel vision started setting in. Death by suffocation at the tentacles of a giant octopus; what a way to go.

Ultros cackled excitedly before scrutinizing her with his bulbous eyes once again. She could feel them hungrily roaming up and down her form and undressing her as she struggled to free herself. "Actually," he said, "are you even a lady? I mean, you look like one. You've got big squeezy tits like one. But geez-o-man, that's a serious case of man-hands you got there! Plus, that blade you use is bigger than you are! How do you even carry that thing? You're not hiding another sword in those pants, are ya?"

Celes could barely focus on what had been said to her. She was too busy listening to the far away musical voice calling to her. It was comfortingly soothing. It made her want to curl up in a corner and fall asleep without a care in the world. But… Had that actually been Terra calling for help? And…when the hell did the world get so dark and fuzzy?

Something strong, thin, and muscular rubbed her body all over, but she couldn't muster up the wherewithal to care. She was tired. "…Wooo…ow!" someone nearby exclaimed. "That's a great rack you got there!"

Rack? What did a thing that held… Dishes? Had she left dirty dishes in the sink? She'd have to get those washed when she got home. No, wait. That wasn't her home any longer. She and Terra no longer had homes there. Her new home was the darkness and its peaceful lullabies. She no longer had anything to worry about. Just…sleep.

There was a scream, throwing panic into the mix. Celes' eyes and mouth snapped open, allowing her to suck in her first gasp of fresh air and to take in her quickly changing location. The fresh air was good. The fact that she was careening through the air towards a thicket of trees and other foliage was bad. Very bad. Oh, hell, was this going to hurt. She braced herself for impact.

Terra sat up slowly and caressed her aching back. Her landing on that oak tree had not been graceful, but then again, nothing about this situation was graceful at all. Seeing that octopus grope Celes like a pervo child with a doll had stirred up her anger in ways she hadn't known was possible. She hadn't known that she could cover her entire body with flame. She hadn't known that she'd be flung into the forest like a hot potato as a result. Although she had to admit, it made sense even if it did hurt like hell.

"Who the hell ordered the fried calamari?!" Ultros exclaimed from the battlefield.

Terra risked a peek through her leafy camouflage and struggled to keep her panic at bay. Celes was no longer covered in tentacles, which was good. She was now nowhere to be found, which was bad. Her massive sword had embedded itself in the ground between Locke's legs, but all signs of a buxom blonde beauty commanding attention on the battlefield were nil.^[5] Was she lying somewhere injured? Terra wanted to fly to her location and dote on her and kiss her and hold her hand, and she didn't care if it raised eyebrows.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, before doubling down on her focus. That was the best way to help Celes at this point. Locke and Edgar were cornered against the forest nearby, neither possessing a reliable method of dealing damage to this perverted jerk. Fire magic had been the only attack so far that had had any effect. It looked like it was up to her to save the day.

"Where the hell are you, you green haired bitch?!" Ultros shouted as he shook two balled tentacles like fists. "I'mma make you feel so much pain you'll get off on it! And then I'mma lick that off your delectable nether regions!" He licked his beak in desire.

Terra shuddered with audible disgust. Edgar was perverted, but at least he was cheeky and occasionally humorous about it. But this guy… This was neither cheeky nor funny. This was awkward and very much cringe-worthy. It left her feeling violated without the actual violation. There was only person she wanted violating her, and that person was currently nowhere to be found.

"Looks like we've got a common enemy," came a familiar, yet foreign sounding voice from behind.

Terra jumped and nearly squealed herself wet. She quickly turned face-to-face with Edgar. Er, at least, he was someone who looked like Edgar if he dressed like a bum, hadn't the long, braided hair nor shaved in several days, and owned enough muscles to suplex a freaking train. She was reasonably sure that this wasn't Edgar, unless she had traveled through an interdimensional portal, but that smile created a hurricane of doubt in a sea of cocksureness.

He shushed her with a hand before she could ask for his name. He said, "Think you can distract Ultros with your fire? I can't get close otherwise." His manner of speaking was subtly different from Edgar's as well. What was that old saying? 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend…and a clone?'

It took a moment for Terra to register what had been asked of her. She had been too busy comparing Edgar and Not-Edgar. When it finally dawned on her that he was waiting for a reply, she raised an eyebrow at him. "You look like a big teddy bear," she said with a helping of snark. "What're you going to do, hey? Hug him to death?"

Not-Edgar stared at her for a long moment before guffawing loudly and pulling her into a tight bear hug. "You're a funny lady!" he said with that ever-present Edgar smile. "I like you!" All Terra could do in response was burn in embarrassment.

Celes' body refused to move, forcing her to remain exactly how she had hit the ground after colliding with that oak tree that had been in her way. As she tried to remember how she had arrived at this location in this situation, her lungs took in big gulps of air to sate their starvation. Baldur's Gate, did it feel good to breathe! A quick pain count revealed a sore shoulder and back as well as a headache. Nothing she couldn't handle, not after the beating she took from Kefka's goons the other day.

Off in the distance, she could hear Locke and Edgar bickering like an old married couple defending themselves from marauders. At least, she assumed they were defending themselves.

"Can we hurry it up, Edgar?" Locke said between panicked grunts. "I feel like I'm the only one doing anything here!"

"Figaro was not built in a day, Locke," Edgar said quickly. "And I certainly do not desire this exploding in my face! So forgive me for taking my time! At least we can take solace in the fact that the girls are safe for the moment!"

Celes grunted with a growl as her body allowed her to take a weak half-slumped standing position and will the moisture in the air to freeze around her hand. The only reason she had ended up like this was that infernal octopus had bogarted her sword. She wanted to see how well he'd pilfer a blade that could be formed and dismissed on a whim.

A wolfish grin formed on her lips, renewing Celes with newfound energy. Ignoring the pain crashing the party in her back, she tore through the brush, and let loose with a howling war cry. Hunting season had just opened on pervo octopus, and she was going to make sure he didn't violate or hurt anyone else. She burst through the foliage and sped across the battlefield, surprising Locke and Edgar as well as Ultros. She could see the fear in his bulbous black eyes. She could smell the fear masked behind the stench of the briny sea. She could hear his fear embedded in his girly shriek.

Once more, Celes took to the air, her weapon of ice poised for attack. At the apex of her jump, something strange happened. Out of nowhere, she was covered head to toe with something slick that removed the world from her sight. Before she could even question this new situation, something powerful smashed into her causing her to fly backward with a cry of surprise. Once again, she crashed into something hard, but this time a pair of them.

Once a chorus of male groans joined her on the ground, she realized what had happened: Ultros had smacked her down hard, and she had bowled over Locke and Edgar like they had been bowling pins. But this didn't explain why her vision was compromised and diminished to the point of blindness. Whatever it was that was on her face would not come off no matter how much she wiped her eyes. Plus, it reeked of salt water and rotten fish! She was handicapped physically and magically. What had that damn octopus done to her?!

"That's it!" she shouted as she attempted to stand. "I'm going Ice Queen on your arse, wanker!" She was determined to be the one to end this cavalcade of stupid, but that determination came to a halt when she tripped over something that brought her down to kiss dirt with a breath-stealing thud.

"Those had been my ribs," Edgar coughed with a hitch of pain.

Ultros laughed derisively. He said, "I gotta say, Boobs McKenzie, you look super-hot all covered in my ink." Ink? Well, that certainly explained the smell, the darkness, and the difficulty in removing either. "How's about givin' me a kiss now?"

"I'm gonna murder you, octopus," Celes said as she propped herself up on her elbows.

"The only thing you'll be kissing is fire!" Terra said. Celes froze in place. She almost hadn't recognized Terra's voice because of the uncharacteristic malice. It sounded as if she were brimming with enough to skin a Behemoth alive with words alone.

"Wow. She's pissed," Locke said.

Celes didn't have to ask what was going on as her hearing painted quite the picture for her. The roaring of twin blazing fires, Ultros' shrieks of fear, Terra's deep-throated growling. That pervo octopus was discovering first-hand why making Terra aggro was a bad idea.

"Look! Look!" Ultros said in a high-pitched plea, "Seafood soup doesn't hafta be on the menu! It's just been a misunderstanding!"

"Misunderstand this!" shouted Edgar as he assaulted the octopus with punches and kicks. Wait. How could Edgar be there when he was coughing behind her?

The world fell silent for the briefest of moments before a big object went smashing through the trees. "Damn you, muscle-head!" Ultros' rapidly fading voice echoed throughout the valley. "You haven't seen the last of me!"

The trees joined the group in a collective sigh of relief as a breeze came in from the plains. The fight was over. Celes rolled onto her back and tried ignoring Edgar as he spoke with another Edgar and Locke. Wait. Another Edgar? This was interesting. Her focus broke with the rapid approach of grass rustling, and the panicked cries of her name drew her attention elsewhere. That could only be…

It wasn't long before a familiar presence skidded to a halt at her side and the cool refreshing feeling of healing magic washed away her aches and pains. The inky blackness obscuring her eyesight faded away allowing her to see the damn adorable sight kneeling beside her. It made her heart ache. Terra's face was coated so thick with worry that her lip was bleeding. Her messy verdant hair was, for some reason, now streaked with lavender curls. Her ears were slightly pointed at their tips. A single snaggletooth barely made its presence known on one side of her mouth. The sudden change in appearance was jarring, but the rest of her was still the same.

Celes chose not to mention anything and instead flashed a smile. Terra's cheeks were already slick with tears shed because of fears. There was no use overloading her at the moment. Besides, it probably was just a trick of the light, an after effect of the blindness, or octopus slime or something. Inquiries would be made later. Right now, she just wanted to rest in the soft bed of prairie grass, stare up at the beautiful girl fretting beside her, and not think for ten minutes.

Terra took a hand in hers, smashed it up against her chest, and returned the smile. "I was so worried," she said in a whisper. Her heart was beating so rapidly that it could be felt through gloves. She soon leaned down and nuzzled the ever-living daylights out of Celes' cheek, which then turned into a full body cuddle.

Celes froze not only because this was a new thing, but because it was Terra doing this new thing. Her whole body burned with embarrassment like the horizon at sunset but, at the same time, this was paradise. She wanted to revel in it, especially if this was her reward for diving headfirst into battle. She raised her free hand and said, "Boys, we're resting here!"

There were no arguments.

^[1] Biggs had dropped the map somewhere in a dark corner after being startled by the cave's resident monster, the happy healing spring turtle. A ferocious bastard, that one. ^[return]

^[2] This particular turn of phrase was so old in Vector that its exact meaning was lost. It certainly had nothing to do with a numerical measurement of vision. That's a preposterous notion. ^[return]

^[3] EDGAR:
Did you receive this month's poorly copied newsletter?

LOCKE:
Yeah. I got it on bright pink this time. It was hardly readable with that red lettering.

EDGAR:
Indeed. *sigh* BANON really needs to come up with a more efficient method of distribution.

LOCKE:
What's wrong with the soapbox on the street corner?

EDGAR:
If only I could come up with a machine that could automatically print and send them out via carrier pigeon.

LOCKE:
You just want to play with machines again, don't you?

EDGAR:
Well, when tinkering with a lady is out of the question--

LOCKE:
Stop, EDGAR. Just stop before you put an image in my head.

EDGAR:
I do not do that with my machines, LOCKE. *pauses* Although...

LOCKE:
*grimaces* Aw, man! Stop! I don't want that in my head either! ^[return]

^[4] It wasn't so much that Locke possessed the ability to use magic. It was more that he could dive and roll faster than Celes could follow in her panicked, oxygen-deprived state. ^[return]

^[5] While Terra had taken notice of the sword's location, she had failed to notice Locke's paled fear and Edgar's amusement. ^[return]

Chapter Text

It had gotten colder than some frosted ice nymph's bare tits in the middle of winter. Because of the howling wind throwing buckets of snow and ice everywhere Celes' traveling companions were shivering something fierce. Since ice was her "natural" magical element, the cold didn't bother her. She knew it was there. She could feel its sting just like everyone else. However, she could run around bare-assed naked if she wanted and not suffer from those annoying effects that cold usually brought, like hypothermia or frostbite. She did, however, suffer from prominent nipples and the chafing that went along with that. She almost wished that hypothermia would stop running away and take her out of her embarrassing sensitive, chafed-nipple misery.

Not long after setting foot in Narshe's outer limits, the aptly named Ice Cap Mountains, the wind gained courage enough to start whipping them with ice and anything else it could get its cold little hands on. It had gotten so ornery that it had scared visibility into hiding somewhere out of sight. This, of course, had led the group to take a unanimous vote to set up camp. While time was of the essence, all they could do was bunker up for the night the best they could. Becoming abominable snowmen wouldn't help anyone in the long run.

As everyone else fumbled their tents with cold-stiffened fingers in the white darkness, Celes had gone to work at creating a small iced dome over the top of them. The idea had been to cut out the bitey wind and the razor-sharp snow to reduce the threat level of the cold. It was still threatening from under the dome but in the highwayman armed with shoe polish, a brush, and a toothy smile sort of sense. Less likely to kill, but more likely to make off with something if unprepared.

Being since this ice blockade consisted of…well, ice, they had had to forgo a campfire. Any open flame would bring the structure down on top of them. They all had agreed to retreat to their tents and bedrolls for the night with Edgar's brother Sabin, the newest addition to their group, being the sole exception. Without a tent, he had opted to turn down everyone's offers to share theirs and unrolled his sleeping bag in the center of the dome.

Sabin was an enigma, one that Celes had never come across before. She was magically immune to the cold and Terra could combat it into submission thanks in part to their MagiTek infusions. Sabin just seemed to ignore the cold outright and remained entirely at ease in his tank top and judogi zubon. "Mind over matter," he had said with a loud, boisterous laugh.

Mind over matter, eh? His mantra sounded suspiciously like how she used magic. Her mind was what gave it its shape and directed it where to go. She imagined Terra's fire and healing behaved no differently. Either there was more to martial arts training that Celes had been unaware of or another party in the world was secretly using the power of MagiTek. Or perhaps she was looking for shadows where none existed.

Regarding his abilities, the big and friendly Sabin had been surprisingly tight-lipped. Instead, he regaled them with how he had come across them in the Emerald Hills. His mentor, the fabled Blitz Master Duncan Harcourt, as well as his son and most of his female students, had perished in an attack by Ultros; something Celes had trouble believing. A martial artist master didn't just die in a fight with someone as stupid as that octopus. Something else had to have been at play. Regardless of the story's truthiness, Sabin had tracked his adversary for weeks until the perfect moment to strike had presented itself all in thanks to a fiery distraction.

The whole scenario, front to back, seemed like it had been a weak plot device to get everyone to meet up at the right time and place. Despite the coincidence, this wasn't a poorly written novel riddled with plot holes and spelling errors; this was real life. There were no over-the-top flowery statements of love between two romantic interests nor were there any cringe-worthy euphemisms for sex and genitalia. If there were, then Terra would be in this tent right now pressing the ever-loving hell out of her love button to gain access to her love tunnel.

As if that'd ever happen. Celes snorted and pulled her bedroll up tighter to her chin. Terra was too preoccupied to show interest in romance and with good reason. Who she needed in the now was a friend, someone to act as an anchor to help her find herself. It was a role that Celes was determined to play regardless of whether she got what she longed for at the end or not. Heavy emphasis on the not. Doubt was strong that Terra even swung that way.

There's always hope! chimed the princess from within her mental closet.

Hope is a waste of time, said the general. Stop that inane romantic drivel and leave me with more rational thoughts.

Unlike Sabin, Edgar had had no issues regaling the group with the story of how the twin brothers had become so drastically different—one a machine and woman obsessed king of a majority of the Backwest Continent and the other a nature walking stone-wall martial artist. Who would have thought that the brothers Figaro followed the paths they had due to the flip of a coin?

After King Stewart had passed away, the kingdom had needed one of the two Figaro heirs to assume a position at its helm to guide its people away from its turmoil with the Empire. Sabin, upset that the nation had ignored the possible assassination of their father, had urged Edgar to run away with him to start anew elsewhere. Edgar, on the opposite end of the spectrum, had argued for remaining loyal to the realm. At having reached an impasse, and with both brothers headstrong, Edgar had proposed to settle matters like men—with a coin toss.

Celes snorted once again and tried picturing the scene in her head. Both Edgar and Sabin standing on top of the tallest spire in the castle, dead of night with only the stars as witnesses. That Edgar was such a hopeless romantic. Only he would consider flipping a coin as settling a dispute 'like men.'

But there had been a catch: whoever won had to go at it alone. If heads, Sabin would have his freedom and Edgar would face the political music. If tails, the reverse would be true. The coin that night, by cosmic design and after a five-story fall to the sands below, had landed heads up. That night, Sabin had slipped out into the darkness with the rest of the castle unaware of what had happened. Edgar, on the other hand, foiled an Imperial assassination attempt on his life by returning to his room later than had been announced.

Celes couldn't help but wonder if the "supposed" assassination of King Stewart and the attempt on Edgar had been an Imperial plot to overthrow Figaro. Worldwide news hadn't been something easily found when eight years old and living in an orphanage. It hadn't been until she had made the rank of General did she hear stories of the former king's rigidness in not bowing to the Empire, something his son continued under the guise of being subservient. Sadly, her information had been just word of mouth and nothing concrete. If any Imperial records were remaining, they were locked up tight beyond the sphere of influence she had once wielded.

Since her first botched mission at Maranda, she had the feeling that the Emperor, as well as the Imperial Senators, had little faith in her. She had never received the same detail of briefing as the other generals, never had the same access to records like the others. But why go through the trouble of taking an orphan, infusing her with magic, and promoting her straight to the near top of the food chain if no support was going to be offered? It made no sense.

Perhaps Maranda had been a loyalty test. Perhaps she had botched it by immediately questioning Kefka's orders to slaughter innocents. Perhaps that rift had gotten even wider every time she had questioned his methods. Perhaps it had been her friendship with Edgar. Or maybe it had been when she had asked the Emperor directly why he had needed to send Kefka to Doma when Leo could have handled it on his own.

Thinking about it now, she had made a bad Imperial. The Imperial Way was 'shut up and don't ask questions,' neither of which she was very good at or very fond of. She could drink like an Imperial and even swear like one (if not worse), but it was clear to her now that she didn't think like one. Imperial methodologies mixed with blind loyalty were a dangerous combination.

Celes sat up and massaged her temples with a grumble. All this reflecting on what was and what could have been made her head ache. All dumping on the Empire aside, at least the Imperial Academy had prepared her for situations of 'roughing it' such as this. And being augmented with ice magic helped as well. But when had that augmentation taken place? Hell, she didn't even remember agreeing to it. She just remembered waking up one day and Professor Cid telling her to 'keep it a secret from everybody.'

It had been a difficult thing to do, keeping magic secret. Immunity to cold. Things freezing at her touch. Her breath, then, almost always a visible fog. So many excuses. So many lies. Such a ridiculous burden to place on a child. And even then, why hadn't they told her that she hadn't been the only one?

Celes strongly considered peeking in Terra's tent to check up on her, the poor thing. Not only was she suffering from amnesia and malnutrition, but now she was changing into that form that had crash-landed outside of South Figaro several nights ago, if she hadn't thoroughly changed already. Last she had seen, all that had been missing were the glowing inferno eyes and the pinkish/whitish body hair. Edgar had surmised that the rate of change was linked to their proximity to Narshe and by proxy their frozen esper. The how and why remained questionable. The only reason Celes agreed with the theory was due to a faint magical buzzing in the air. It wasn't a sound nor was it something visible, but more akin to feeling someone's presence when no one was there. If Terra felt it, she remained silent on the matter. In fact, the closer they got to Narshe, the more silent she got.

Silent Terra resembled how she had been when Celes had first met her in the academy. Withdrawn. Malnourished. Distant. Silent. Definitely someone who had suffered some deep-seeded trauma. If she had ever spoken to anyone, it usually had been a few words and only when spoken to. Funny enough, she and Terra hadn't been too different in that regard. Social anxieties and shyness were something they both had shared as children.

It hadn't been until Terra had exacted fiery revenge for the misguided destruction of her stuffed moogle and Celes had protected her with ice did the two strike up a conversation. From there, they eschewed their social shells and over time had become close friends. Then the rift happened. She had taken her feelings too far, and Terra had disappeared as a result. Well, that had been the anger-riddled assumption until the truth crash landed into her lap, quite literally; a victim of Kefka, and a kidnapping that Celes had failed to thwart despite everything having transpired right under her damn nose.

That damn clown! When she'd managed to get her hands around his scrawny neck, she was going to enjoy squeezing every last molecule of air from his lungs. Just the thought of it infuriated her to the point of seeing red in the darkness. Where would they be now if he hadn't had stolen Terra from her? Distant acquaintances? Standard friend fanfare? …Lovers?

If only she knew what had been going on in Terra's head that night. So many nights spent fretting about it. So many days spent being angry about it. She'd never know now. That Terra was lost, nowhere to be found, and this Terra hadn't a clue about who she'd been.

"Celes?"

Celes dropped out of her head and finally took notice of the dark figure holding open the tent and blocking the faint light given off by Edgar's dying magicless lamp. A strange ear-tickling feline-like purring filled the tent as did an intoxicating magical buzzing. She had felt this presence before in South Figaro, which left no mistake as to who it was. The figure let the tent flap fall to a close behind her, encapsulating them in further darkness, and promptly made herself a comfortable seat in Celes' lap. Soft furry arms tightened around her in an embrace.

"Terra?" Celes choked out in a whisper. "Is that you?" She felt the nodded confirmation before she heard the words spoken.

"I… I think I'm me…" The sub-layer of fear underneath the confusion was plain a day, even if it was distorted slightly by the vibrations of the now louder purring. Sharp nails dug in as the embrace became tighter with distress and nervousness. Both emotions were so thick that one could grab them from the air and spread them on toast. "Am I still me?"

Terra's fear did not come as a surprise. The wintry storm outside the ice dome continued to rage on like two Megalodoths in a drunken bar fight. Celes didn't think that a rapid changing of one's body helped either. "What's wrong?" she said with an air of teasing. "Did Edgar sneak into your tent and try something funny?" Unfortunately, the humor fell flat.

Terra produced a ball of flame in hand, catching Celes' breath and allowing her to see first-hand what was problematic. Terra now fully resembled the form she had been several nights ago even right down to the fact that she- Wait a moment. Where the bloody hell were her clothes?!

Terra's purring increased to a dull roar as if she had heard the unasked question which left Celes to guess if that had been equivalent to embarrassed blushing. While there was just enough light to see faintly, it wasn't sufficient to see in color which forced the other senses front and center.

"Clothes made me itchy…" was all that Terra offered, "…and I'm scared. Can I sleep with you?"

Once more, Celes had to force herself to breathe normally. There were plenty of things wrong with this situation (or possibly right), but she couldn't get her mind passed the fact that Terra was in the nude and embracing her like a scared lover. She had to keep telling herself that there was no hidden meaning in the tight snuggling embrace, only innocence. This child-like Terra didn't operate in that kind of capacity.

"Uh, sure. I don't see why not," Celes said, now confident that her unease was plain as day as was the burning in her cheeks. She always tried to present herself as confident in all things, but this was always one area of the human condition where she failed. Intimacy of any kind was not her strong suit; she was a sucker for it.

Terra made a small noise of content and buried her face in Celes' neck and shoulder. The powerful rhythmic vibrations spread from her and throughout Celes' upper body like a pleasing hands-free massage. It, as well as the smell of sweet strawberries, started leading her down a trail of thoughts much more carnal in nature than she'd like. The general could ignore such things, but that damned princess had become emotionally drunk in this situation and was ready for a romantic midnight romp with anything she could get her grubby hands on.

Said the general, God dammit! Not while Terra's here!

Ask her if she wants to join in! pleaded the princess. Please! We need this!

Celes said once she had mentally bitch-slapped herself back on track, "Are you… Are you purring? Like a cat?"

"Um, I think so, but I don't know why," was the muffled response. Terra's grip on Celes' nightshirt tightened. "Celes, I'm scared."

"Sweetheart, there's no need to be scared," Celes said as she soothed hair to be comforting, something that was foreign to her. She was used to being cold, indifferent, and detached. Life was easier not giving a shit about anyone or anything and just worrying about oneself and one's own affairs. With Terra, though, she felt differently, as if some perverted motherly instinct that she didn't know how to use took control. If only she could find the damn manual.

Terra's head nestled back into its resting spot. "But I… I don't know what I am." A weak, but perfectly valid response, especially with her current appearance.

"You're a MagiTek Knight, like me." The obvious answer to the question within the statement, but Celes had a feeling that Terra would discard this and reach for something else to validate her new insecurities.

"You're not changing into something scary," Terra said. "I…don't think I'm human." And there it was. Front and center.

"Who the bloody hell gave you that idea?!" Celes threw out more anger than she had wanted, enough to make Terra cringe. She highly doubted Sabin had said anything. He could be loud and boisterous, but he didn't come across as someone who talked out his ass. Now his brother, on the other hand, had a habit of putting his foot in his mouth when it came to women. Locke? She wasn't sure. But if any of them had put this toxic thought in Terra's head, she was going to ice lance them.

"I've got more body hair than Sabin!" Terra lamented. "Have you seen him? He's like a giant teddy bear made of bricks!"

Celes laughed softly. So that was it. "Well, I guess this means you're as cuddly as a pussycat!" To accentuate her point, she squeezed tightly forcing Terra to let loose a fit of giggles.

Terra relaxed her claws and happily sighed. "I prefer 'cuddly as a moogle,'" she said as she nuzzled Celes' neck some more.

"Cat, moogle… No matter how you look you're more human than most normal people I know."

"But-"

"Terra Branford, don't argue with me. You're a human being augmented by the Empire with the gift of magic. You're no different than I am. You've just been charmed by some…bloody dead thing in ice."

Terra fell silent, opting instead to tighten her embrace. Celes, on the other hand, stared vaguely into the darkness and tried ignoring the pert furry breasts pressed against her own damnable monstrosities. She rubbed a hand in comfort on Terra's furry back and instantly regretted it. She was so soft! And, like breasts of any kind, the softness was hard to ignore and not fantasize about. Just how badly she wanted to shove Terra into the bedroll and have her way with her was immeasurable. The only thing keeping this scenario at bay was a single metaphorical stick, the same one she used to beat back any adulterated thoughts. If she had been drinking, heaven only knew what the outcome could've been.

"Will I ever change back?" Terra finally asked.

"Sweetheart, you were far more transformed the other night than you are now."

"How did I change back?"

"I'm not sure." This was one piece of information that Celes had tried to keep vague. She hadn't been sure how Terra would react, and freaking Edgar would never let either of them live it down. Besides, she quite enjoyed having something that she could replay over and over in her mind. It made going to sleep at night easier despite all the shit she'd had to slog through. But even then, she couldn't even be sure if that had been what had changed Terra back in the first place.

"Was it a kiss from a prince?" The amount of excitement that rushed out in Terra's voice was hard to miss unless one was blind to human emotion or plain stupid.

Oh, sure there had been a kiss, and one that Celes wished would happen again, but a prince she wasn't. She could, however, pretend to be a princess. Now, if only she could get past her hatred of wearing a dress. As much as she'd love another kiss from Terra, the very thought made her butterflies smash into each other haphazardly. She also wasn't ready for Terra to know the truth of her feelings. Not like this. "Uh, not quite, hey. Where did you get such a silly idea?" she said.

"Edgar told me a story earlier today about a frog princess and a prince who-"

The cursed frog princess and the prince, who had lips so magical that they could negate magical charms when kissed. Celes knew this fable and knew it well. Even as a child, she had found the very concept to be a preposterous one. She immediately saw Edgar's perverted reasoning behind sharing this with Terra, who was desperate to return to normal while he was desperate for a kiss from any woman. She was going to punch him with an ice-encased fist in the morning.

Terra must have sensed the negative thoughts because she shirked back slightly. Or perhaps Celes had openly broadcasted the emotions on her face. "Did… Did he not tell me a good story?"

"Edgar only told you that in hopes that you'd be desperate enough for your normal form that you'd let him in your pants."

A moment of silence had passed before Terra said flatly, "But I'm not wearing pants."

The unexpected response threw Celes for a loop. She didn't know how to respond and stared at Terra's eyes in the darkness until she could come up with something. But those eyes, they were boring into her, forcing her to spit out a response before she was ready. She had nothing! What could she follow that up with? "But perhaps Edgar's on to something," she blurted out. "Maybe what you need is a princess."

Again, there was silence, and with every moment that passed, Celes took the opportunity to smack herself with her big metaphorical stick. The one thing she hadn't wanted to call attention to and she had done it anyway. Stupid, stupid, stupid! And yet… Terra didn't seem put off by the statement. If anything, she had an odd look about her, one that Celes had never seen on her, past or present.

Terra nuzzled up as close as she could. "So… Are you saying that I should let you into my pants?" Celes swallowed, hard. That tone was also something that she just never associated with Terra. Nor the whisper in her ear that followed: "Because, like I said…" She paused for an excruciating amount of time, all the while tickling Celes with her breath. "…no pants." And it all just sounded so…right.

It felt as if her heart was going to smash through her ribcage like a pitcher of colored sugar-water through a brick wall, but Celes sat her ground. She wasn't going to let a single slip-up nor unexpected sultry behavior get the best of her. This was a game of wits now! "Hold on here, mate," she said with a finger pointed dead center of Terra's chest. "Let's get something straight, hey. You kissed me the other night in South Figaro. And let's not forget who barged into my tent stark-raving naked."

Terra made with a cute pout, took Celes' finger in hand, and traced little hearts between her breasts with it. She mumbled, "Clothes are itchy…"

Celes tried to keep herself from melting like loved-starved butter. One would think that the lack of light would be a deterrent, but that only seemed to fuel the excitement. If she wasn't careful, she could lose control of the conversation and possibly herself. But then again, perhaps that was what Terra wanted. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get into my pants." Or perhaps Terra was just acting playful. Damn! Why did that have to come to mind after the fact? Foot? Meet mouth. Get ready to be best of friends after this shit-storm of a misunderstanding.

Celes felt Terra stiffen in her lap and the playful gaze that had been boring into her was now looking off in a different direction. An awkward silence filled the little tent to the point of near bursting. Well, this wasn't a good sign. Celes followed suit and stared at the barely visible circle of light on the other side that was Edgar's lamp.

Minutes, hours, it had been hard to tell what increment of time had actually passed when Terra finally broke the silence. "Have you ever loved someone before?"

Celes recoiled as if she had been slapped across the face and shoved Terra off her in the process. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?!" she barked. Terra of all people should have known the answer to that question! Especially considering that they had grown up together! Terra had been the first person she had come out to! And then she had nearly given herself to alcohol poisoning just to rack up the courage to-

Terra sat up on her knees and meekly rubbed her upper arm, all the while avoiding eye contact. "I…I'm sorry," she said quickly. "I, um, phrased that wrong. I…I was wondering if…if it was possible for people like you and me to…love?"

When eye contact was again made, it suddenly hit home like a sledgehammer on a watermelon. The initial question hadn't been one out of malice, only curiosity. And in one moment, Celes had forgotten that this Terra wasn't the old Terra. She had stabbed herself and done the twisting of her own accord. She crawled over and hugged her tightly. "Don't apologize, sweetheart," she said. "I took that the wrong way. But what brought this on all of a sudden?"

Terra broke off the embrace and took an interest in rubbing her arm again. "I, um… Just curious."

Celes sighed and let her posture sag. "I guess I have," she said. There was no sense in lying about it, but she wasn't just going to blurt it all out like some kind of love-starved twit. Funny how she was what she despised the most. She hoped that nobody saw through her façade and only saw what she wanted them to see – a tough as nails, battle-hardened soldier. How horrifying if they saw her for what she really was – a lonely, love-starved woman. Thankfully, no one had seen her romance novel collection.

"The rich man's maid?" Had there been a hint of jealousy in Terra's inquiry? No, couldn't have been. Had to have been a trick of the wind howling outside.

"I guess in a sense depending on your definition of the word." All in all, that woman had been a drunken mistake, a means to forget her heartache over Terra and, like the rum she was fond of, had only succeeded in making her feel worse the next morning. Welcome to Regretful Decisions One-Oh-One. Your professor, Celes Chere, will today teach you all about how to make decisions of future regret.

"So… You love her?" Was Terra accusing her? She started wondering if she needed to clean her ears out or if perhaps her imagination was adding these emotions where they weren't. She already felt guilty for having done the deed; the constant sting in her heart reminded her of that.

Celes snorted. "Durmoch's maid?" she said. "No. That truly was a one-night stand and one I regret."

She needed to watch her words and keep calm.

"The girl I fell in love with…"

…was right in front of her.

"I don't know how she feels."

-because she was too damn scared to tell her how she felt on her own.

"One night, a chocobo's age ago, I bared myself to her, but…"

…she had been too drunk to remember specifics.

"…I never got to find out how she felt."

-because that girl no longer exists.

Despite the thought, Celes no longer blamed Terra for the way things had turned out. Now knowing that Kefka had been involved with her strange behavior and consequential disappearance, there was no way she could hold a grudge, at least against her. Kefka on the other hand… She sighed and looked away. "I'm sorry," she said. "I don't want to discuss this anymore. I thought I had left it buried in the past, but I guess not."

Terra reached out and touched Celes on her upper arm. "I'm sorry, Celes."

Celes shook her head and placed a hand on Terra's. "Don't apologize for things that aren't your fault."

"I know, but… It's okay to cry."

Celes snorted once again. "It's not okay for me to cry. Generals don't cry."

Terra scooted herself closer and moved her hand to Celes' heart, which sent it skyrocketing into her throat. Was she really touching her there? "But you're no longer a general," she said. "You're a person. People cry."

"I have no more tears to shed." It had been a lie. She could feel them welling up in the corners of her eyes. It all was finally catching up with her. Nearly being killed. Ostracized from her position, from her home country. Being on the run. Terra crashing back into her life. This Terra may not remember anything, but she still talked like the old Terra, acted like the old Terra.

Terra gave a sad smile and wiped the tears from Celes' eyes before enveloping her in a hug. A whisper tickled her ear. "Can I do anything to make you feel better?"

She still cared like the old Terra.

Celes increased the tightness of the embrace. She didn't want the past to happen again. She didn't want to be alone again. "Just be you," she said. And that was when she felt it, warm lips pressed against her neck that tickled her as they trailed upwards toward her cheek. It was the greatest feeling in the world and the most horrifying, like walking on clouds without a parachute. "What…what are you doing?" she managed to choke out. Was this seriously happening?

"Being me."

A clawed hand entangled in Celes' hair at the same moment Terra's lips snuggled up to hers. Yes. Happenings were serious. Very serious. So serious, in fact, that she couldn't help herself. Years of pent-up frustrations with her social anxieties, especially regarding Terra, encouraged her to- No. -demanded that she repeatedly return these kisses with an increasing amount of need. They demanded that she grab furry hips and bring them crashing into her own. Terra's scent, her taste, and her softness all added fuel to this fire of madness. Baldur's Gate, that purring and its vibrating ministrations did or did not help matters depending on point of view. Everything just became lost in a sexually driven haze of wandering hands, bitten lips, and rushed breathing.

When Terra fell to her back in a fit of hushed squeals and giggles, Celes collapsed on top of her, one hand entangled in Terra's and the other massaging a small handful of breast. She could feel Terra's other hand under her shirt fumbling with her bra strap while hips ground into a leg. Whose hips on whose leg? Hers? Terra's? Both? Celes couldn't keep straight what was happening any longer. This was a beautiful place of uncharted paradise, and she was just utterly lost in it. But a tiny voice called out from the back of her mind to get her to return home.

This was wrong, wasn't it?

Terra managed to unsnap the bra and raked her fingers along Celes' spine unhindered, which sent jolts of pleasurable electricity down to her toes and back again. If she hadn't already been laying on top, she would have collapsed in place. "Terra," she mumbled in between kisses, "what are we doing?"

All activity halted. Kissing ceased. Hands froze in place. Terra stared at her, almost pleading to continue. And Baldur's Gate did Celes want to, but… Was she taking advantage of Terra in her confused condition? Was Terra maybe adding to the confusion by misunderstanding her own emotions? Was Terra only consenting to such activities because she was desperate for any kind of happiness and affection?

Terra gently caressed a cheek. "Celes, what's wrong?" she whispered.

Was she so desperate to take advantage of her like this? Celes sat up and stared at the darkest corner of her tent. "I'm sorry," she mumbled with a hitch. It had been something that she had always wanted, desired. It had practically been given to her on a silver platter, and yet, she couldn't do it. She couldn't carry on with the intimacy. There were too many questions about Terra. Too many variables. Most importantly, she didn't want to end up alone again.

Lithe furry arms wrapped around her midsection and a furry head rested on her back. "It's okay," Terra whispered. "You don't have to explain."

"I just… I feel like I'd be…" Celes couldn't spit out the rest of what she wanted to say. "I'd be…" She gave up and left the 'using you' dangling from the conversation.

"I don't like seeing you so grumpy all the time, hey. So, I thought that I'd try to make you smile even if it was for just a little bit."

The warmth on Celes' back disappeared, allowing her to, for once, feel the cold. "I'm not that grumpy."

Terra appeared in front of her and took her face in her hands before kissing her on the tip of the nose. "I'm glad I got to see how beautiful your smile is. I'd like to see it more often."

As Celes watched Terra crawl into the sleeping bag, she had to wonder: how the hell had this situation gone from her consoling Terra to Terra consoling her? Had it even happened? Had they just shared a moment of intimacy? Had it been a dream? Had she fallen into an alternate reality? She sighed, pulled her unclipped bra out from under her shirt, and crawled in beside Terra, who wasted no time in wedging her back between arms and breasts.

Celes closed her eyes in hopes of falling asleep quickly, but a repeating replay of the affection that she had interrupted just would not go away. It even teased her with snippets of what could have been, frustrating her even further. How long this went on, she hadn't been sure, but she was thankful for Terra distracting her with a trailing finger along her arm.

"I didn't change back, did I?"

"I don't think you have."

"Oh. I was kind of hoping that you had magical lips like that prince."

Celes held back a frustrated sigh. She knew that she shouldn't feel used, that Terra had meant no harm, but the feeling presented itself just the same. And now something else she could obsess over. She wasn't going to be sleeping well this evening.

"Pull the other one, eh!" the Narshean watchman demanded from behind his rather large and unwieldy shield. "You're in the company of two known Imperials, buddy, one of whom came through here recently and tried to burn down the place, eh! I know because I was on duty that night and saw her blaze through like a flaming cat outta hell!"

Terra knew the watchman was referring to her without even seeing his wild gesturing. She didn't remember doing such a thing, but from what little Locke and those two Imperials had mentioned of that night in question she knew there was no denying it. Not after seeing buildings charred like a giant fireball had taken a roll down Main Street. Not after seeing the large holes in the street from MagiTek lasers. Not after hearing the death count. She looked up at the sign above the gate before them and watched as it swung lopsidedly in the breeze on the one side that hadn't been burned to ash.

"So, sorry, guy," the watchman continued. "I don't care if you're King Figaro or Emperor Gestahl. I don't think you're Returners, friend, and that means you're not passing this point. So, go peddle your Imperial doctrine to someone who wants to be plundered and raped, eh."

Terra hugged herself and fought back the tears. She had caused this destruction. She had caused those deaths. She was the reason they couldn't get into Narshe. She could deny it all she wanted, but it wouldn't change a thing. There was no escaping it, especially with a crowd forming to gawk at the commotion. She pulled the cowl tighter around her face. She didn't want them to see how much this was hurting or that she looked like a damn cat.

"You speak in jest, my good man," Edgar said, his agitation seemingly on a thin line. "Have you any idea who I might be?"

"No," said the watchman. "Would you like me to have the boys dig up some care from Give-a-Fuck-Mine, eh?" Terra would have found his phrasing humorous if she had been in her usual mood, but today that mood was far from normal. And this Narshean jerk wasn't helping it any. She held back the frustrated desire to throw fire everywhere.

Edgar scoffed with contempt and stared the man down with a disapproving eye until Sabin muscled his way to the front. "Should I give him the old Figaro Heave-Ho, brother?" he said with a threatening smack of a palm with a meaty fist.

Celes' grin echoed his sentiments as her hand went to her blade's hilt. Moisture began freezing around her other. "I say freeze him balls to boots, hey," she said, "and then we can see if they'll shatter like glass."

Locke coughed to gain attention. "You know; I could always embarrass him by stealing the clothes off his back." Celes snorted in a futile attempt to stifle her laughter. Why Locke's threat was humorous was a reason only she knew and one he was curious about if one were to judge by the look on his face.

Terra sighed and wished that she could hide further within her hooded cape. Her travel companions were so violent. But then again, she wasn't much better.

Thou hast stolen many a lifeforce from many a knave to save thy mistress, only for yond skirt to merely turn thy affections hence. Aye, and to bethink yond life gives unfairness form.

"Edgar," she said as she reached out for his shoulder, "I think we should do as this man asks, hey." She didn't want to see anyone in the confrontation get hurt, despite feeling ready to throw a punch herself.

"Finally, eh!" said the watchman with a gleeful grin. "An Imperial hoser who ain't dumb as rocks and can actually make sense! Go home and share that ability with the rest of your buddies there, friend!"

Edgar conceded to Terra's wishes only because starting a war over a smart-mouthed watchman was a silly thing, but he did make clear his desire to smack the gentleman upside the head, a sentiment shared by everyone in their group. Despite the complaints from Celes, he led them back through the snow-strewn valley the way they had come. He was focused, despite the bags of weariness under his eyes, and gave the impression that he knew where he was going.

Edgar wasn't the only one suffering from fatigue. Terra could see they all were exhausted, tired of the freezing cold, and wanting nothing more than to find their way to proper shelter. She especially wanted to be eaten by those super soft beds at Figaro Castle. She wanted to bask in the warmth of a proper fire rather than something she had conjured on a whim. Also, she was starving. Pulling butt-loads of fire from nothing was a high-maintenance ability and one that this harsh environment was too trying to keep up with. Narshe was cold as hell and, while pretty to look at, certainly a place that, if she could help it, would be avoided in the future.

It wasn't long before Locke took over leadership and advertently led them to a dead end. The snow slippery earthen walls were dizzyingly high and unable to be scaled by normal conventional means. Normal was the keyword there. With her newfound claws, light-weight stature, and tiny hands and feet, Terra would have no issues finding footholds. And Sabin, despite his normalcy, could probably grapple the whole mountain down and toss it out of the way. Did Locke sincerely expect them to climb mountains?

"Oi! Cole!" Celes barked. "We supposed to sprout wings and fly?" Sabin doubled over in laughter.

Locke flashed her a not so amused grin and waggled a finger at her. "Geez, Celes, have a little faith," he said. He touched a rock protruding from the wall and, before Terra was wholly aware of it, produced an opening where there hadn't been one before.

Celes whistled. "I do now, mate."

Terra stared at the opening with an open maw of amazement. "Wow…" she whispered. To think that they were going to sneak into Narshe through a hidden entrance to their cave system! This was exciting!

Edgar nudged her arm with his elbow and said, "That is nothing to be amazed about, my dear. 'Tis but a simple switch operating a hydraulic hinge. The toiletries at Figaro Castle contain technology more advanced than this."

Terra sighed and slumped in her hood. So much for that, then.

The caves were dank, dark, and wet. Even without the wind-chill factor, it was still cold enough to freeze balls off. Whatever that expression meant. Most of the passages they came across were riddled with mining debris, old abandoned rails in the ground, and the occasional broken cart filled with chunky sediment. Every once in a while, they'd come across the odd lit lantern, but the regularity of that happening was not something on which they could rely. Terra took it upon herself to light the way for the others when an oasis of light was nowhere near.

The group walked for what felt like hours; telling time was problematic without the aid of a clock or the sun.^[1] The darkness, the echoy dripping of faraway water, the occasional falling rock, and the sudden scurrying of rodents as well drove them near the point of madness. Celes seemed to be hit the hardest with her constant complaints of breathlessness and being crushed to death by subterranean walls. Some passages narrowed so much that they had to pass through single file with sidesteps. The lack of space in these tunnels made Terra's nose and whiskers twitch.

Eventually, they came to a large cavernous room that looked and felt as if it had seen better days. Terra nearly buckled from the overwhelming feeling of dread and foreboding. Perhaps it was because her group had placed her in the lead. Perhaps it was the darkness. Perhaps it had been the claustrophobic nature of the cave system. Perhaps it was the burnt husk of what remained of a giant snail, the smell of its demise, or its spattered gooey remains they were stepping around. Or, and this was a hunch, perhaps it was the three giant mechanical monsters looming on the opposite side. It could have even been the residual emotions from whatever powerful and resentful personality that had at one time inhabited this cave as well.

Terra hadn't been sure of the source of the feelings, and in a small way didn't want to know, but her suspicions had been confirmed when Locke began to recount the events leading up to her transformation within this very cavern. She had commanded one of those deadly looking mechanical beasts and used it to obliterate what had once been a welk creature. She wanted to deny it over and over until her lips turned blue, but what was the point of denial when the evidence was right there? There was only one missing piece to this puzzle.

"I do not see our esper anywhere," Edgar said as he tapped a finger on his chin.

"There was no way you could miss this thing," Locke said. "It took up nearly a third of the cavern. Even dead it commanded your attention and watched your every move."

"They must have relocated it after discovering that Imperials knew of its location. …But to where?"

The esper. That had to have been what she had been feeling. It must have had an incredibly strong magical field to leave remnants of itself buried in the stone walls. Perhaps this had been the presence calling to her from afar for the last few days.

"Someone's here in the shadows," Sabin whispered, sending the entire group into battle ready mode.

"I had heard rumors of Figaro Castle suddenly disappearing into the sand," said a rough voice from within the dark void behind the MagiTek Armors. "I'm glad to see its King has avoided Imperial capture."

Edgar's stance and expression softened. "Well," he said, "it would seem that lady luck has finally smiled upon us!"

Terra bit her bottom lip in anxiety and attempted to hide behind Celes, who was still rigid and ready for a fight. The voice that had called out to them was unknown to her and, even then, sounded scary by its own merit. She hoped that Edgar was right and that the voice didn't belong to a hungry monster who was searching for its next meal.

^[1] Edgar's watch had become lost during a fierce battle with the Emerald Hills' famous killer rabbits. These creatures were notorious for living solo in large caves and making even the most hardened of soldiers soil their armor with cries of "Run away!"^[return]

Chapter Text

As soon as they came to the exit, the sunlight burning her eyes forced Terra to shield herself from the offending rays with a bare hand and a hiss between her teeth. It was incredible what several hours spent wandering in darkness could do to eyesight. Through the one eye she was barely able to keep open, she watched Celes run ahead of the group with arms splayed outward in a vain attempt to fly. She exclaimed, "I can breathe!" with a rare genuine laugh that was usually shy of the world around it.

Terra wanted to smile at this adorable outburst, but could only maintain a stone-faced façade from inside her hood. There was no point in inviting unwanted conversation; she was in no mood to talk. There were things on her mind, and both that and the magical buzzing of Narshe were giving her a bloody headache.

The caves had deposited the group on a system of wooden catwalks high above the town. Every step elicited a creaking that served as a reminder that gravity was watching and waiting for its moment to strike them down. A quick peek over the edge revealed not only a better view of the steep drop to the streets below but of the various homes and other establishments belching thick black smoke into the air. They must have been burning some serious fuel to get that and the thick layer of soot that covered everything, unless said soot had been part of the same incident as those numerous scorch marks.

Terra sighed and stopped looking out over the town. She didn't want to know about the damage she had caused. She wanted to pretend that it didn't exist and that she had never set foot here. There were more important things to worry about, such as this enigma that had appeared from nowhere - shoes, embedded within the stone wall. They didn't so much appear to have been buried as much as they seemed to be part of the rock itself. The logo emblazoned on the side was also one she had never seen before, a swishy check mark with the word SPRINT written across it. It was the strangest thing. There were so many questions, but the answers, much like the shoes, were unobtainable.

Stone shoes aside, the fresh air and its sooty wood flavorings were a welcome change from the staleness of the caves. The cold, on the other hand, could bugger off back to wherever cold buggers off to. She was sick of it, the stiff fingers, the sting in her toes and with every breath she took. She was tired of fire magic as well as sheer amount of energy it drained of her. She was exhausted enough to fall asleep on her feet, hungry enough to eat the first thing presented to her, and grouchy as all hell because of that infernal background buzzing.

Luckily, the group had stumbled upon a Returner known as Arvis, or Old Gravel as Terra mentally referred to him due to the rough, gravelly voice he possessed, like a tin can full of tiny rocks. He had been in the caves investigating why Imperials had left behind fully intact MagiTek Armors. Admittedly, he had spent several days puzzling over it until Locke answered his dilemma with a flatly spoken 'welk lightning' as if that had been the obvious answer.

With promises of food and warm beds, both of which piqued Terra's interest, Old Gravel had led them through the caverns to their current location above the town. As much as she wanted food and sleep straight away, there was a meeting with the Narshean mayor as well as Returner leader Banon to be attended first. How tedious.

Up ahead, Edgar, Locke and Old Gravel quietly discussed various Returner news and tidbits, most of which seemed to have caught Celes' attention. Luckily for her, she could eavesdrop without needing to hide that she was doing so as the three men weren't making much of an effort to keep things a secret. Terra, meanwhile, tried to disregard the conversation as such things didn't interest her. But the twitching cat-like ears she now had on the top of her head zeroed in on every detail regardless of her desires.

"With you here, King Edgar, the mayor might change his mind," Arvis said. He was so happy that Terra could hear his grin. A strange concept that one, but she could nonetheless.

Edgar shrugged and cast an apprehensive glance towards Locke, who put forth a shrug of his own. If she could read body language, they appeared to share doubts over that declaration. "Mayhap, my friend," Edgar said, "but rely not on my good word to create miracles. You know as well as I do that Narsheans are tough nuts to crack." He paused. "Well, exception, of course, lies with the beautiful ladies in town."

Celes was quick with a snort, and a muttered, "My arse."

Terra failed to understand the reaction, same with Locke burying his face in a hand. Granted, Edgar comparing women to cracking nuts was a bizarre topic for him to bring up in the middle of discussing Returner politics. What was the purpose of such a statement? Was it mere boastfulness? A joke? An attempt to incite jealousy? Was he saying that women were delicious when roasted and lightly salted?

…Was he a cannibal?!

Terra nearly jumped out of her cloak at the suddenness that Edgar turned to waggle his finger at Celes. "Your derriere truly is one of the seven miracles within this world, my dear Celes," he said with a wink. "Unfortunately, it is hardly worthy to be the current topic of discussion."

Celes quickly transformed from a fine china white to a bright tomato red as she fought for her words in the rising embarrassment. It hadn't been long before she gave up speaking altogether and settled on folding her arms across her chest as if that would serve as a barrier between her and the rest of the world. She scoffed and directed something imperceptible at Edgar under her breath.

And just like that, Celes had withdrawn from the world. Terra sympathized with a frown and buried herself under her hood. As much as she agreed with Edgar in the difficulties of discussing Celes' butt, as pleasing as it was to look at, she wondered if perhaps he could have worded it with less passive aggressiveness.

Locke cleared his throat in a successful attempt to bring the group's conversation back on track. The Narsheans were on edge because of the esper they had dug out of their mines. It didn't come as a surprise as the Empire wanted the magic those creatures could access, and the town had not the manpower to stave off an Imperial occupation. Supposedly, the Returners had offered numerous times to aid Narshe in protecting their frozen bounty only to be turned down time and time again.

Terra puzzled over this. She wasn't a tactician by any nature, but even she could see the flaw in this line of thinking. Narshe had something the Empire wanted. Narshe was unable to defend itself from the inevitable Empire attack. The Returners offered to assist. Narshe refused. It didn't make any sense. Edgar had put it mildly when he had called Narsheans a stubborn lot. If anything, she wanted to slap the silly out of whoever was running the show around here.

"Your Highness," Old Gravel said, "I truly believe that if you throw your hat into the mix, the mayor will accept our help." It had sounded like a cry for help from the only sane person in a town full of crazy. If he lived in Narshe, which was the impression gathered, then it probably was. Poor bastard.

"I certainly would like to see this esper before I lay my life on the line for it," Edgar said.

Terra was curious as well as she had never seen one before and supposedly carried their magic. Based on Locke's description, they seemed like scary monsters, but a small inkling in her murky mind claimed otherwise. She tried grabbing at this memory to learn more, but it slipped through her fingertips and disappeared into the depths of confuddled emptiness. It was the other night in Celes' tent all over again, only without all the awkwardness.

"Unfortunately, that's not my call, sire."

Terra had heard the words spoken, but the actual meaning had failed to register. Her mind's eye had been busy replaying for her the events of that night. Since then, she had decided to keep her distance from Celes, who so far had made no attempts to bridge the gap. That look, the haunting face of sadness and violation, it was one that Terra could never forget.

"I figured as much," Edgar said with a sigh. "I sincerely hope that this frozen creature is not a catalyst for a situation most dire."

Violation hadn't been her intention that night. Scared and confused, she had sought solace with the one person she knew who could have given her comfort. Emotions she didn't understand had soon taken control, presenting her with new and exciting things until Celes' face changed and guards had gone back into place. The bright and beautiful smile had disappeared leaving only a broken frown and the feeling that she had done something wrong.

Terra scoffed in frustration before shooting a glare in Celes' direction. She wanted those large blue eyes giving her the attention she craved. She wanted that silky shoulder-length hair to cascade down around her like a waterfall of sunshine. She wanted to feel that adorable thin nose against her own as she kissed those soft lips and shivered from the strong, slender hand entangled in her hair.

A growl formed in the back of her throat. She regretted not asking the important question that was eating away at her. Why? At the time, not knowing hadn't bothered her. But as time wore on, the niggling in the back of her mind had turned to full-blown nagging. Celes could spend the night with some unknown bimbo in a maid's outfit, but heaven forbid she give the time of day to someone who was supposed to be her best friend! Was she not pretty enough? Was it because she had the endowment of an ironing board? Because she looked like a bloody overgrown cat? Sounded like a five-year-old? She'd show her just what she was missing out on!

"Terra? You okay, sweetheart?"

With the internal monologue broken, Terra felt like she had been woken up from a deep sleep. All she could do was nod and stare at Celes with surprise.

"Are you sure?" Celes said with a questioning eyebrow and concern in her tone. "Because you're glaring at me like you're ready to draw your blade at me."

And just like that, any relief Terra had felt had been replaced with horror. It was then that she noticed that her hands had been gripping the hilts of her sheathed katana so hard that her nails had punctured her palms. She was quick with an apology, a claim of 'just thinking,' and a healing spell. She knew that Celes wouldn't push the issue, but she withdrew from the world just the same.

This incident scared her. She couldn't remember what it had been that made her so angry. Even scarier was that she wasn't entirely sure if she had been prone to blackout anger or not. If only she could speak to the person she had been before losing herself. There were so many things she didn't understand. Who was Terra Branford? Who were her parents and where were they? Why had she been an Imperial soldier? Why was Celes the only person she remembered? What did these feelings regarding Celes represent and why did they affect her so strongly? Why the bloody hell was she changing into a walking, talking cat?

It hadn't been until Terra bumped into the back of Edgar did she realize that she had completely lost track of the world around her. They were no longer walking through the town, but now standing in the mayor's home. A quick look around suggested it was a simple home, not too big, not too small and filled with the bare essentials. It was nowhere near as lavish as Figaro Castle or the wealthy South Figarian man's home. However, there were lots of books signifying a well-read man, albeit a silly one who stored elixir flasks in his grandfather clock as if it were a medicinal cabinet. Who in their right mind did that? Wouldn't that mess with the clock's pendulum? Why would one want time to be displaced? It made sense to no one outside of senility.

At the far end of the room, before a roaring fire stood two older men in the midst of a rather polite argument. Their shadows, on the other hand, danced erratically about the floor as if their battle of words was a full-blown fist fight. The gentleman on the right fit the bill of the standard run of the mill old man - white hair, slightly balding, pants held up to his armpits complete with needless suspenders, and bourbon bottle glasses at the tip of his beak-like nose. The gentleman on the left looked as if someone had used magic to transform a bear into a more ferocious creature before changing that result into a man. His wild, flaming hair was wholly unkempt and matched the equally wild boko^[1] beard^[2] he harbored under his face. It was so wild and bright red that Terra couldn't help christening him as 'FireBeard' from her hiding spot behind Edgar.

"I understand what you're saying, Banon, but you're asking us to spill our blood for you," said the old man inferred to be the Narshean mayor. The first bits of the conversation had been missed, but the general gist was easy to figure out. They were arguing over the Returners aiding in protection. It hadn't sounded like either side was making much headway.

"I asked no such thing," Banon said with a huff. He gave the impression that he was near the point of grabbing the mayor by his spindly throat and smashing his face into the floor.

"You want us to join you in your war against the Empire. That's essentially the same thing."

Terra lost her hiding spot when Edgar joined in the fray. "Allow me, Banon," he said as he wedged himself between the two. "Your option of do nothing will spill you of your blood by the hands of Imperials just as needlessly."

"See? It's gonna get spilled no matter what you do, ya old coot," Old Gravel grumbled from somewhere nearby.

"King Edgar!" the mayor said with a stunned expression. It was if he had just realized that there were others in the room with him, let alone that one of them had shoved himself in the middle of their argument. FireBeard was different. He was aware of everything going on around him, evidenced by his never wavering, scrutinizing gaze on both Celes and herself. Banon scared her so much that Terra wanted nothing more than to hide somewhere. However, her curiosity kept her rooted in place. Did he know who she was? Did he know what was happening with her? Was something caught in her whiskers? –in her teeth?!

Edgar gave a slight bow. "Banon, Maurice, I apologize for arriving later than stated. We had been…detained on the way here." No one bothered asking what that detainment had been. Possibly a good thing. They hadn't needed a reminder of slimy tentacles and sun-boiled sea brine.

"What news of the Empire?" Banon said as he crossed his meaty arms. An unpleasant shiver traveled down Terra's spine when she realized that he was staring at while talking with Edgar. It was creepy! She wasn't a dancer nor was she wearing overly provocative clothing, unless he was staring because of how monstrous she looked.

"Chances are they're on their way here now as we speak," Locke said. He looked just as impressed as Edgar with the situation, which, to say, wasn't very.

"They're probably not too far behind us," Sabin said with a jerk of his thumb towards the direction of the main gate. "Your dick of a gate guard really slowed us down, you know?"

Panic flared in Maurice's eyes, which would have been comical from behind his oversized glasses. "You've led them here!" he said with dread.

Banon scoffed from behind his chin foliage. "King Edgar and his group coming here make no whit of a difference," he said with force. "Kefka would still have come to collect that esper regardless. Have you forgotten what it is that Emperor Gestahl craves? If we allow this esper and the MagiTek weapons created from it to fall into Imperial hands, we will undoubtedly find ourselves repeating history's greatest mistake."

Maurice's already pale face turned even more ashen in color. "The War of the Magi…"

Terra looked about the room, waiting for someone to fill in the blanks with exposition. She knew next to nothing about this War of the Magi other than it had been some cataclysmic event that had occurred over a thousand years ago and, in the process, downgraded mankind's technology back to stone-age.

"Just imagine," Edgar said, "man versus man, man versus MagiTek-like technology, man versus esper. The resulting war turning the world into a barren wasteland, reshaping the face of the earth and releasing creatures of unfathomable horror long thought dead."

"Those old books in the castle library weren't fiction?" Sabin asked with a confused expression.

Edgar sighed. "I am afraid not, brother. They are the last relics left from that time."

A heavy silence soon smothered the room, preventing anyone from expanding on or offering any opinions on the subject. To Terra, this was all new information. She had no idea of the stories of the past, mankind in general or her own, but now understood why people construed MagiTek and magic as scary business. She basically held a fraction of world-shattering power in her hands!

YOU'RE MORE POWERFUL THAN THAT, LITTLE GIRL, came a faint thought from the back of her mind. SHOW THEM WHAT WE CAN DO. KILL THEM. Typically, voices in Terra's head sounded like her voice. This one failed that simple test. She stepped closer to the safety of Celes and warily searched for whoever might have spoken to her. She found nothing but an increase in Narshe's background magical buzzing. Had she imagined it?

Maurice, the mayor, broke the silence with a sigh. "Edgar, Banon," he said, "you both weave a compelling argument, but I cannot let go the whisperings of the fall of the kingdom of Doma. They fell because of their collaboration with you. I feel that as long as we remain neutral, Narshe will have nothing to fear."

"Are you crazy, old man?!" Locke said after he picked his jaw up off the floor. "Kefka's coming here now! Are you that hell bent to throw yourself in a grave?!"

Celes cackled like a crazed witch. "He must be if he believes that Doma's destruction was the fault of the Returners," she said, the sneer on her face so loud it could be heard. "Have some insider information, Sunny Jim: Kefka destroyed Doma because he could. Returners had no part to play in that fiasco."

"Insider information?" Maurice stammered out. "Just who are you?"

"Imperial General Celes Chere," Banon said with eyes lit up like the daytime sky. He clapped Edgar on the back so hard that he nearly sent him sprawling to the floor. "I see Edgar's wish to turn the Ice Queen to our cause has finally come to fruition."

"Edgar didn't turn me, hey. I sought him out on my own volition."

Firebeard's singular bushy firebrow rose in intrigue in sync with Old Gravel's cough of surprise. Maurice the mayor, on the other hand, had his eyes swell to the size of fearful dinner plates. "You're… You're an Imperial?"

"Clean out your ears, mate. Nobody's stuttered, hey."

Terra had been unable to tell if the mayor was afraid of Celes because of her ethnicity or if he had finally noticed the size of her sword. "I also was an Imperial," she meekly offered in the hopes of assuaging his fears. "I just don't remember it too much." Admitting to this forgotten past made her feel filthy. She rubbed her arm and bit her bottom lip as if that would somehow cleanse her of the impurities.

"The Emperor wants only one thing," Celes said, harshly cutting off the mayor before he could protest further. "Power. He doesn't care how he acquires it or who he kills to get it. I have no qualms killing arseholes, but I do draw the line with innocents and children. When I openly tried to defy the orders to kill everyone at Maranda and questioned Kefka's actions at Doma, I found myself assaulted by the mad clown himself, tied up, and offered to the soldiers as a plaything." The silence in the room grew louder when she unbuttoned her jacket and raised the front portion the shirt underneath, prompting gasps from all witnesses. "If it hadn't been for Terra intervening by chance, I'd have more than bruising covering my stomach. I would have been raped, left for dead, or both; tactics I certainly don't agree with."

A chill shot down Terra's spine. She knew she had saved Celes from Imperials, but just what she had interrupted she hadn't been told. Judging from the expressions of shocked disgust Edgar and Locke were now wearing, they hadn't known either. Had that been the reasoning behind her withdrawal the other night? Had that been why she had turned cold?

A finger pointed in her direction startled Terra back into reality and drove her to cower behind Celes. "Now I know who you are!" the mayor cried in accusation. "You match the description of the Imperial woman that blazed through here in a ball of fire and nearly destroyed the town!"

Celes snarled, "Says the stubborn old bastard who'll do worse with a lack of action!"

"She was under the influence of Imperial slave crown technology that night," Edgar said. "I investigated it myself. She has had no control over her actions until recently."

"But--"

"The Empire's gone to the dogs, mayor," Celes said, stretching out the title and turning it into the dictionary's most derogatory word. "But not all of us Imperials are freaking crazy. It's no wonder more of us haven't defected to your cause; bloody dickheads like you won't give us a chance."

Generally, Celes speaking down to anyone who had scared her made Terra feel better about herself. This time around, no such comfort came. All she felt was a desire to throw fire at everyone and burn the place to the ground.

"I can vouch for Terra and Celes," Locke said. "I'd be dead of poison in South Figaro if they hadn't gone out of their way to rescue me from Kefka."

"They also helped me defeat the asshole that killed my sensei." Even Sabin had spoken up.

Terra, feeling weak and near tears, leaned into Celes for support. She couldn't defend herself from the attacks on her character. It wasn't that she didn't want to, it was more that she had no defense other than that of fiery violence. Everyone else, people she barely knew, were quick to retaliate for her. She appreciated the sentiment, but it made her feel as if she were a coward capable only of hiding. She wasn't a coward! She just didn't know what to do or how to do it.

"So, if she's General Chere, you must be Kefka's assassin, the Fire Witch. The one to whom the esper responded." Terra's ears burned at the mention of an assassin. She peered around Celes' shoulder to find Banon staring the both of them down with a look, not of anger but intrigue. "Come on out of hiding, child. There's no need to be shy."

Yes, there was. She didn't know these people. They were scary. They were saying scary things, hurtful things. She just wanted to run away from everyone and never return. She caught Celes' side glance and had a change of heart. No, she had to be brave and not only for herself. Celes was brave for her. Terra crawled out from behind her hiding spot but maintained eye contact with the floor. Her courage wasn't strong enough for anything else.

Banon approached and forced her to look upwards with a finger to her chin. He studied her with several grumbled noises of intrigue. Finally, he said, "Interesting. You look like some kind of cat under that cloak."

"I… I'm human," Terra said with the hoarseness of fear and a dry throat. "I…just don't look it." If only she had a voice and bravery like Celes, then she wouldn't always sound like a scared little girl thrust into a confusing world she knew very little about and barely understood. She'd sound like a confident woman ready to take on the world, even though she had the appearance of a sickly little girl dressed up as a cat.

"Interesting. Tell me—Terra, was it? Do you know how Doma fell?"

Terra shook her head. She didn't even know what a Doma was let alone how it could fall. All she knew about it was that it had been the catalyst of the events that had turned Celes rogue.

"Banon," Edgar said quickly, "Terra has amnesia. I implore you to stop now." This caught Terra's attention, equally piquing her intrigue and scaring her beyond her wits' end. Why the warning? Did Edgar know something about her past?

Banon ignored the plea and instead turned to Celes. "General Chere? You were a high-ranking Imperial. Perhaps you can tell me."

Celes shot a death glare in Edgar's direction before settling it on Banon. "I already told you, mate. But I get the feeling that you two got something else in mind."

"Official Imperial reports state Kefka ordered poison into the water supply," FireBeard said as he locked his unwavering gaze onto Terra. "Unofficial, non-Imperial reports state that a tiny green-haired girl entered the Doman Royal Palace during the siege and didn't emerge until flames engulfed it completely. She and Kefka were the only two survivors, Imperial and Doman alike."

Terra tried to destroy the lock her eyes had with Banon, but couldn't. All she could do was blur it with tears. Had she honestly been responsible for killing a nation's royal family? This couldn't be true. It had to be a mistake, false information, alternative facts. It had been someone else with green hair and the ability to conjure fire, right? Yes! It had to be! But why did this make her feel intense sadness and despair? Why did she see a wall of fire? A samurai dead at her feet?

"“Wherefore…doth thou…wish our demise?”

"I don't want to kill anyone! I want to heal!" she cried before her legs buckled underneath her and she lost control of her tears. Somebody had caught her before she hit the floor, but she paid no attention to the details. All she could do was bury herself into the safety of the expansive bosom surrounding her.

"Baldur's Gate, Banon," Edgar exclaimed. "Have you gone mad, man?!"

"Hiding the truth doesn't change what it is, Edgar!"

"Where did this information come from?" Celes demanded. "No reports of Terra's involvement came across my desk."

"Of course, the Empire would hide this from you, General," Banon said, his tone softer than previously. "Considering your long history with the girl, you shouldn't be surprised. This is information straight from the scene."

Long history? It seemed that everyone knew more about her past than Terra did herself. It drove her crazy to the point of desperately grabbing Banon by the beard and violently shaking him until he gave her every last detail of her life. Sadly, this event only happened in her head, her fear outranking her desperation by a long shot. But still, one had to question how he knew that she and Celes had a history together. And it became apparent that she hadn't been the only one wondering about that.

"What do you know of our past?" Celes said.

"Only the basics we were able to pull out of the Empire's dossier on you. Both orphans. Both given magic before placed in the Imperial Academy."

Terra felt sick to her stomach. She was sick of the arguing, the crying, the accusations. She wanted to run away. The foreign voice in the back of her head certainly wasn't helping either.

IT CAN BE OVER QUICKLY. JUST SHOW THEM YOUR POWER. KILL THEM ALL.

An oversized beefy hand gently touched down on her shoulder. She pulled herself from the safety of Celes' breasts to look up at Banon. His stony face and angry eyes had gone soft with a smile. He gave off the impression of a father trying to assuage his upset daughter.

"Perhaps you've heard this story before," he said softly. "Ages ago, when people were still pure and innocent, a shiny box appeared as a gift from the gods along with a request to never open it. However, an overzealous woman named Pandora decided to disobey the gods and unleashed the evils of the world. Pride. Envy. Greed. Anger. Gluttony. All that remained was a golden shiny ray of light: hope."^[3] He offered her a handkerchief from his pocket which she promptly took to dry her eyes. "Terra, your power is a gift, not a curse. No matter the circumstances, you must remember that. Your ability to awaken the dormant espers from their captivity is our last ray of light; our final hope."

Terra strangled the handkerchief in her hands with nervousness and bit her lip to the point of tasting copper. The floor's wooden patterns suddenly were the most fascinating thing around. "I'm…the last ray of hope?"

"No pressure," Sabin said with a snort of laughter.

Celes tried protesting but was silenced by a wave of Banon's meaty sausage-fingered hand. "Yes, General. I believe this girl will lead us on the path of avoiding another War of the Magi." He gave them a tired smile. "For what it's worth, I'm glad to see you finally among our ranks. If only General Leo would come to his senses as well. But I've grown weary as of late and must have a lie-down. Maurice, we will finish our--"

The conversation dropped when a Narshean watchman burst through the doorway and nearly bowled into Sabin. "Lord Mayor!" he said with urgency. "It's an emergency, eh! It's Kefka! The Empire's here!"

Celes muttered a few colorful words and adopted a battle-ready stance. Locke, on the other hand, buried his face in his palm. "So much for a break," he said.

"Well, Maurice," Banon said, "it appears we don't have much time. What's your decision?"

All eyes turned to the mayor of Narshe, who wore a very uncomfortable look. "You win, Banon," he said with a sigh of defeat. "Do whatever it is you need to do but bear in mind that I will not sacrifice my people in battle."

Edgar tapped at his chin in thought. "Where is the esper now?"

"We moved it to the summit above the town in hopes that if the Empire came again, they'd leave our mines alone." The room became very uncomfortable in the aftermath of his statement. Terra could have pierced it with a katana and roasted it in the fire.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Celes stormed up to the mayor and grabbed him by his shirt collar. "You're a bloody loony! Do you even realize that nobody gives a rat's flight about your damn mines?!" His uncomprehending look didn't change, signaling that he didn't understand just what he had done. He'd practically handed Kefka the esper.

Edgar brandished his crossbow in his hands. "We should get to the esper," he said. "Time is not a commodity to be wasted."

Locke's description of the ice-encased creature did not do it justice. It was big. It was beautiful. Its plumage ranged the colors of the rainbow and then some. Its talons were sharper than any manmade blade. Its bird-like eyes were cold, much like the ice that was its cage, and always watching, scrutinizing, plotting.

This was the Narshean esper, and it was very much alive. Terra could feel its life-force, its magical footprint, its emotions—hatred. It hated everyone and everything. It demanded their deaths. It longed for their suffering. She knew this because the stray thoughts of death and destruction increased in frequency and clarity. Until now it had been a dull buzzing.

She was still unsure if it was the cause of her current form, but that had been the least of her worries. First, it had been the sparking of an undesired fire spell in Sabin's direction. The next had been a mental image of running Locke and Edgar through and returning to reality in time to stop herself from fully unsheathing her katana. She tried alerting the party, but nothing had come out of her mouth. She had been silenced.

The esper's magical abilities were beyond that of her own, Celes', or the two of them put together. The air around her throbbed and pulsated as if it were a living creature of its own. It was heavy with oppression and a thick fog-like mist that was the color of magic, something between white and black with a hint of purple luminescence. It was suffocating and frightening.

Celes soon gave them their orders for the upcoming battle. Terra had been charged with protecting Edgar and administering magical first aid when necessary. This was a godsend as she wanted to be as far away from the front lines as possible. She didn't want to hurt anyone, but there was a little itch and it spoke to her.

BATTLE IS IN YOUR BLOOD, LITTLE GIRL, it said. EMBRACE IT! YOUR DESTINY WILLS IT! OUR TIME IS NOW! TÖTE SIE ALLE!

As Terra stood rooted in place, watching over the now empty battlefield, she realized that the esper was right. Every time she had fought previously, conflicting emotions had cropped up leaving her horrified, yet unfulfilled. She didn't want to kill anyone, although… She couldn't help giggling at the thought, running her blade through Kefka and painting the ground with his blood before charring his flesh from his bones in a pillar of fire. It excited her.

She couldn't keep the grin from her lips when deranged, high-pitched laughter, and metallic footfalls echoed off the surrounding mountains, each giving the impression they were both near and far. These Imperials, that bastard Kefka, had enslaved her, used her, tore her from her only friend, ripped her memories from her, erased who she had been. What else had those bastards done to her? And then there was what had been and almost been done to Celes.

Today, Terra was going to collect payment for those crimes, and she'd accept no less than their lives. If she didn't kill them outright, she'd make them suffer. Like a flick of a switch, fire broke out all over her body. Her appearance would instill fear. Her claws would poison. Her fire would burn to ash. Her blades would drink of Imperial blood. Celes for sure would have to give her the attention she desired, no, craved if she slaughtered them. Every. Single. One. Not one would be left alive.

At first sight of the Imperial formation, Terra made eye contact with a grunt in the front lines. He appeared afraid as if he wanted to be anywhere but where he was. She'd give him a reason be afraid.

As she bridged the gap with high-speed flight, it hadn't dawned on her that she wasn't acting on her own accord. She didn't even stop to wonder if the others had realized what she hadn't. It was only when she saw the red glow of her eyes reflected in the Imperial soldier's fear contorted face did it finally dawn on her that she had made a mistake, a fatal one at that.

She had fallen under the esper's control.

^[1] Boko is slang for members of a gang of chocobo riders. A real-world analogue would be that of a motorcycle gang. The only difference, in this case, is that calling a boko a bird brain won't net you a shanking as they really love their chocobos. ^[return]

^[2] It was a beard that could make the music group ZZ Top jealous. The group, known for their raunchy lyrics, catchy hooks, and outlandish beards, hail from Zozo, the town of raunchiness, nasty left hooks, and lies outlandish. ^[return]

^[3] Not to be confused with a golden shiny wire of hope. ^[return]

Chapter Text

Petty Officer, Third Class Tomlin Jeffelo of the Imperial Navy cursed the events that had led him to this point. Of course, it all had started by getting too caught up in a drinking game and missing his ship back home to Vector. This had then led to Lord Kefka punishing him by recruiting him for the march to Figaro and nearly killing him when the castle had, surprisingly, sunk beneath the sands. Instead of giving up and returning home, they had been marched to Narshe, a move that had, at the time, confused him to no end.

He had wondered who in their right mind would ever consider marching on Narshe. It was a remote town in the remotest part of the world and offered nothing of value to anyone. It was cold, full of snow, and horribly run down due to mayoral incompetence. Marching was for the dogs anyway. He was a naval officer. He belonged on a ship out at sea, not in the middle of hot sands or frozen wastelands.

As they had approached Narshe, Lord Kefka had stopped the troops to address them, the outburst serving to answer Tomlin's initial question of why Narshe. "I don't care what you have to do, kill, maim, or destroy! Just get me that freakin' esper!" he had said with a toothy snarl and shaking fists. An esper for the taking would be beneficial to the Empire. Hell, as the Navy's emissary he could have possibly negotiated procuring the MagiTek Armors it desperately needed.

"What about the civilians, sir?" a nearby soldier had asked. Silly bastard had guts to question Lord Kefka.

"What about them?!" Kefka had growled in retaliation. "Is this a face that looks like it cares, grunt?! They're peasants! Nobodies not worth scraping off the bottoms of my boots!"

"But Narshe is a neutral city--"

A fire had broken out among the soldiers, silencing the objections of anyone who had thought of one. Tomlin, like the others, had given it a wide berth to let it burn itself out. The sight had been horrific, as had the smell.

Lord Kefka hadn't shown any remorse for the action; he had sadistically cackled as if he had enjoyed the display. "Idiot!" he had spat with a growl. "Read my freakin' lips: mercy is for wimps and retards with no spines! Oppose and dispose of anyone who gets in your way or else I'll oppose and dispose of your balls!"

Tomlin had never felt fear in the Navy where things were done sensibly but now knew why morale in the army was low while fatalities soared at an all-time high. Things just happened on a silly whim at Kefka's discretion, such as turning a soldier into a pile of ash, a pair of boots, and a belt buckle in retaliation for asking a simple question. The stories he had heard had been too outlandish to have been taken seriously, but there could have been no mistaking what he had seen.

Their marching in the frozen Narshean Ice Cap Zone had felt like it had taken forever and a day. Tomlin had silently rejoiced when Lord Kefka had led them under the fire-scorched town gates and through the empty soot-covered town to the location of the esper high in the mountains. They had only been allowed to stop at the summit, where, from the frontlines, a group of five people had stood defiantly before a frozen beast that could only have been the esper. Two of the five he had recognized, General Chere and the King of Figaro; the others had drawn question marks.

"Oh, my!" Kefka had said with a gleeful cackle. "What have we here? Why, if it isn't General Chere – the traitor, King Figaro – the deserter, and… Ooh! My lovely magical assistant! You've saved me the trouble of hunting you down and snapping you like a twig!"

General Chere had merely responded with a middle finger which had incited stifled laughter from King Figaro.

Tomlin had been unable to believe that the five of them had carried balls enough to stand up to a battalion of Imperial ground troops and a handful of MagiTek Armors. That thought had changed the moment he had made eye contact with the small-framed girl in the purple cloak. Her glowing red eyes had filled him full of surprise, fear, and a desire to be anywhere other than the present.

Within the blink of an eye, she had traversed the battlefield in a ball of fire to hover over him, her beastly, flaming scowl a mere inch from his nose. Two sharp stings had made themselves known in his stomach and chest respectively, but he had been unable to break his gaze away to inspect the cause. He had only been able to retreat to the past to recount the events that had led him here to the present.

This girl… She wasn't human!

"I will send each and every one of you to meet your precious gods," she said with a growl, her dual-layered voice coming from everywhere yet nowhere. She jerked her blades free, spun around on her heel, and--

The next thing Tomlin knew, he was falling backward and upside-down. He couldn't react. He didn't know how to; he had no idea what had happened. The inverted looks of horror on his comrade's faces told him nothing. His arms and legs had stopped responding. The pain in his chest disappeared. He could no longer breathe. He couldn't shout out for help. When he hit the ground with a hollow thud, he could only watch as a body fell on top of him—a headless body.

Before the cold touch of death took him sailing away in a sea of darkness, one thought passed through his mind over and over. The hundred gil he had won in that drinking contest hadn't been worth this.

"What are you idiots waiting for?!" Kefka screamed in a tantrum. "Capture her and kill the rest!"

"God dammit!" Celes said as she ripped her blade from its magnetic holster. She ran towards the quickly approaching opposition with the intention of encountering them head-on. "Someone protect Edgar!"

In less than a second, her entire plan of attack had gone belly-up thanks to Terra going hog wild on enemy lines without any sort of warning. This wasn't the first time she had battled by the seat of her pants. No battle ever went according to plan, but she'd never experienced total derailment right from the very start. She got a funny impression that the Imperials weren't running towards them for battle; they were trying to get away from the berserked Terra instead.

"Don't look at me!" Sabin said over the yelling, the explosive MagiTek Armor footsteps, and the clash of clanging swords. "I've saved his ass way too many times over the years!"

Edgar scoffed. "I do carry a close quarters melee weapon as well as my auto-crossbow," he said. "I believe I can handle myself!"

Celes, channeling ice magic into her blade, leaped into the air and brought said weapon down the center of a faceless opponent. Where there had been one, there was now two and a huge mess of gore. She used the force of her attack to jam the blade into the ground and unleashed the stored energy that had been begging to be released. An icy explosion taught the ring of soldiers surrounding her how to fly and coated everything nearby with an additional layer of frost.

She swung her sword above her head with a victory pose of dominance before brushing the icicles from her hair. "I don't care who does what!" she said. She stepped aside to allow a leaping Imperial to stab at nothing but air and hit the ground in a heap. She made sure he wasn't going to get back up by swiftly stabbing him in the back. "Can you retards stop standing around scratching your bloody arses and do something other than look bloody pretty?!"

A glint from the corner of her eye caught her attention. She spun on her heel and brought her blade up in a parry to deflect a blow aimed for her abdomen. Once the danger had returned whence it came, and sparks disappeared, she thrust her weapon into the frozen ground and blasted the bastard back into his allies with a Hadouken of ice.

Edgar had complied with her wishes. Imperials the battleground over cried out in shock, surprise, and pain as arrows rained from the heavens. The common complaint was of missing out on dreams of becoming adventurers due to arrows in the knees. Another reason she was glad to be rid of the Empire! Imperial men were more akin to that of bloody entitled children! The lot of them!

A war cry prompted Celes to freeze the air around her forearm in a makeshift shield of ice. The attack deflected, and the opponent staggered back with a look of confusion. She decided to aid said stagger by swiftly booting him in the groin and shattering her ice shield on his face. However, where he had been several more appeared to take his place. She ripped off her jacket for a greater range of mobility and tossed it to the snow behind her. Now things were getting interesting. It had been awhile since she had been in a four-way fist fight.

"Hey, Edgar! How many you got bagged?" Sabin called out.

Celes stepped to the side when one of her many opponents tried breaking her nose with a bum-rushing. She grabbed his outstretched arm and used his off-center balance to swing him around face first into the sharp edge of her grounded sword. If he had ever wanted to have his nose removed and his eyes spread farther apart, he certainly had gotten it and free of charge!

Edgar said, "Four I believe, brother! But since our dear general has described me as pretty…" There was an unmistakable sound of a mechanically stretched rubber band snapping back into a resting position. A shower of arrows soon followed. The gentleman that Celes had whirled around to target with an icy fist fell, instead, by way of a one in a billion chance. An arrow had managed to fly between his helmet and his visor, effectively impaling him through the eye. "Actually, make that seven!"

Celes and the remaining Imperials around her took a moment to share confused stares with the now dead lottery winner and with each other. "Lightweight! Try twelve!" Sabin said from behind her with a laugh. "Also, I think she was--" He grunted just before an Imperial came crashing from the sky into her opponents, knocking them to the ground and out for the count. "--referring to all of us!"

Edgar laughed as well. "Yes, well, compliments are rare from our Celes, so I will accept whatever she throws my direction!"

"You're pathetic, you know?"

"I am what I am, brother!"

Nearby, a screeching Terra commanded Celes' attention away from the adversaries the brothers Figaro had unknowingly taken care of. She was squaring off against three MagiTek Armors by herself and had somehow managed to trick one into firing on another—with explosive results. Terra had always been quick on her feet, but to pull something like that off… She was moving so fast that she was practically glowing red.

A fist to the gut brought Celes' attention back to where it needed to be. With the wind knocked from her, she doubled over and backed into her still grounded sword. Damn her short attention span! She brought up an ice shield in anticipation of another attack, but none came. She cringed at the sound of crackling energy and nearly panicked when all she found was the charred bottom half of her assailant. It didn't take much to figure out what had happened. A MagiTek Armor had targeted her and if she hadn't been knocked back…

A faint mechanical whirring caught her attention. One of Terra's MagiTek Armors was powering up for a magical attack and Celes was once again the target, only this time luck was not on her side. Time stopped functioning properly, to the point that any movement took too long to accomplish. The best and correct form of action was Runic to absorb all surrounding magic harmlessly. But a proper sword was needed for that to work and with her blade embedded in the frozen ground behind her, she'd never make it in time. She could run for it, but her legs had stopped responding to her commands.

The beam fired, seemingly unaffected by the lag in time. She couldn't draw her attention away from its bright red light. She could feel its electrical charge. She could feel its heat. The hair on her arms and the back of neck were standing at attention. Her bladder expressed a desire to empty itself. She forced her ice shielded arm into position, but she'd be dead by the time it made it there. "Oh, fuck me--" Even her voice sounded wrong, deep and stretched out.

Time snapped back into normal gear as the battlefield flipped around ass over tits and disappeared behind a flurry of snow. An explosion sang of the demise of either a mountainside or a MagiTek Armor. Discerning which was slightly difficult, especially considering it took a moment for Celes to realize that she was lying on the ground with a red-faced Locke on top of her. It took an even longer moment for her to realize that he had just saved her life.

"Holy jeez!" he said. "You almost bought the farm back there!"

Celes couldn't respond. All she could think about was how she had frozen at a critical moment. Narshe had nearly been her final resting place. Kefka had almost bested her. Something was digging into her hip. She narrowed her eyes and said, "That better be your dagger, mate."

Locke gave a wry grin before rolling off her. "Uh, yeah. Sure. My dagger," he said with a stammer. "You're welcome, by the way."

Celes gave him a warm smile and said, "I'll thank you when this is over, hey."

Another explosion rocked the battlefield, showering them with chunks of sediment and ice. A downpour of arrows followed suit. "Stop dying, you frickin' cowards!" Kefka screamed furiously from his perch high up on a nearby crag. How the hell had that bastard gotten up there?!

Celes was on her feet, sword in hand, and running in his direction with one swift movement. The near-death experience completely forgotten and replaced with a new objective: skinning alive an annoying psychotic jester. "Kefka!" she shouted with a challenging swing of her sword. "Get your painted arse down here and fight me like a man!"

Kefka cackled and waggled his finger at her, the sardonic sneer eating away at his face. "Why should I take the pleasure away from the troops, Celes?" he said. "It's more fun watching them make bumbling attempts at killing a beloved--"

His tirade halted when crackling of magical electricity lifted his gaze upwards. Celes followed suit and nearly lost her jaw to gravity because of-- Just what the hell was she looking at?

Above them, the clouds in the sky had turned dark and ominous as they whirled, with ever increasing speed, around a hovering and fire-coated Terra. Red lightning arced from the top of her head and into the nearby frozen esper with a deafening blast of thunder. She held her hands up to the sky as if calling for divine intervention and shouted, "You'll have plenty of time for inane banter after I destroy you!" Somehow, her voice sounded like it was both hers and not hers and coming from all directions at the same time. This was not right. This was very wrong.

"This doesn't look good," Locke muttered, echoing Celes' thoughts.

Kefka giggled uncontrollably. "Such power! Such glorious, magnificent power! Who knew that she had so much power?!" His screeching stopped the moment it started hailing red-hot pebbles. His confusion soon gave way to fear as the sedimental storm increased in intensity.

All about the battlefield, the fighting had stopped, allowing the sounds of sizzling snow and wailing winds to fill the air. Fearfully, Celes realized she had seen something like this once before. These weren't ordinary pebbles.

"He who runs away lives to gloat another day!" Kefka said with a chuckle. "You win for now, General! Or maybe you'll be crushed! Either way, someone wins! Tee-tee-eff-enn!" He pulled a glowing orb from his cape and disappeared in a wisp of smoke.

"You sonova bitch!" Celes yelled to the empty crag. "Get back here! I'm not finished with you!"

She and Locke were soon joined by Edgar, Sabin, and what Imperial soldiers hadn't run away covered in urine. "Celes," Edgar said, "I think it'd be prudent to focus on the calamity in the sky before Kefka!"

A tear in reality had now opened at the nexus point of the swirling clouds from which Terra was trying to pull something unseen. The red lightning was now flickering and flashing like a dance club gone wrong, but this allowed Celes a glimpse of what that something was between the flashes of darkness. If the MagiTek beam had been scary, then this was frightening. Somewhere, somehow, Terra had learned the penultimate black magic, a spell that supposedly only Kefka knew and refused to cast due to it nearly killing him and nearly destroying the entirety of the Imperial Palace when he had.

Celes took a fearful step back and nearly tripped into Edgar. "Terra's casting Meteor."

Locke grabbed her arm. "That's bad, right?"

"We're boned."

"Terra!" Sabin said through cupped hands. "Kefka's hightailed it outta here! We've won by default! You can come down now!"

Celes tried gaining Terra's attention as well, but all actions failed. Either she couldn't hear or wasn't listening with deliberation. But this wasn't making sense. The last time Terra had been transformed during battle, she had turned docile once destroying everything in her path. And even then, her style of combat this time hadn't been one of playfulness, it had been full-on raging. Hell, she'd been acting strange ever since they had entered Narshe territory. Maybe it was her transformation. Maybe it was something else entirely.

One calamity at a time! Celes put herself at the front of the group and adopted a defensive stance. Regardless of what spell Terra was casting, only Runic could save their asses. Granted, it wasn't an ability she often used, especially against high tier spells, but it was worth a shot. The best-case scenario: she absorbed all the magic successfully with no incident. Worst case: the amount of magic was beyond her capacity, her head exploded, and a giant fiery rock crushed everyone.

"What's your plan?" Edgar said.

"I'm going to try to absorb the magic. If anyone feels they can outrun a flaming rock falling from the sky, now's the time to start moving!"

Terra finally succeeded. With a wet-sounding pop and the buzz of now constant crimson electricity, she yanked a monstrous spherical rock from the void and, with a cat-like yowl, threw a fastball in their direction.

Celes started to panic. The magical capacity of the spell was too large! She'd die the moment she started sucking on its magical teat! Narshe would be crushed under a ball of flames! Once again, time seemed to malfunction as it sped closer and closer to them. All she could do was stare in a blank horror. She couldn't even cry out in fear like some of the others had. This was the MagiTek beam all over again, only this time there was no one to save them at the last minute. This was the end of the Returners, the end of Narshe, all because General Celes Chere had, once again, frozen in the heat of the moment.

Her life flashed briefly before her eyes. The orphanage. The Imperial Academy. Playing on the Imperial softball team. Graduation. Kissing Terra at the--

She looked at the sword in her hands and back at the meteor barreling straight for her. Softball…? That was it! It was worth a shot! It had taken an eternity, but she had finally fallen into a batter's position and, not even a split-second later, swung with all her might. With a loud crack, time returned to normal and Meteor careened back in the direction it had come and then some. It had narrowly missed Terra and sailed out over the mountains before rocking the entire Narshean gorge with an explosion of powdered, frozen sediment.

Celes looked down to her sword, to the mushroom cloud of dust and snow in the distance, and back to her sword again. Her years of playing on the Vector Don-Ralphs had not been in vain! "Holy shit," she said with the wavering of shock. "I can't believe that actually worked." She then cried out with a cringe as sharp pains traveled up and down her arms. "I can't believe I still have arms!"

A wild, fear-inducing scream came from above, sounding as if someone had stomped on a cat's tail. One moment, Celes had been looking up for the source of the noise. The next, she was flat out in the snow several feet from where she had been previously, the wind knocked from her and a sharp pain in her chest. An uncontrollable coughing fit attacked her, forcing her to spit out a red-tinged fluid. Blood. Fantastic.

Celes rose to her feet and discovered that a burning ring of fire encapsulated her, preventing escape. Her sword had been knocked from her hands and rested in the snow beyond her reach. Terra stood at the other end of the circle with flames and arcs of electricity dancing all over her body. The look in her glowing eyes told of a woman ready to disembowel at a moment's notice. Locke, Edgar, Sabin, and several Imperials watched the situation unfold with the wide eyes of confusion and shock.

"What's wrong with you, Terra?" Celes said as she readied herself for, well, anything.

"What's wrong?!" Terra said in a furious, crackling tone. Her voice came from everywhere yet nowhere. Never had such a rage radiated from her before. It was so powerful that her magical field physically crackled and popped. "You deflected my magic with a sword?!"

Celes blew the hair from her eyes. "What the bloody hell you expect me to do? You were aiming at us, you silly sod!"

Terra laughed, but this wasn't her usual intoxicating musical laughter. This was the crazed cackling of a madwoman, reminiscent of Kefka and his demented ways. If it hadn't been for physical appearance, Celes would have assumed that this woman before her was another person. The lightning that had been surrounding her, which had been flickering like Figarian holiday lights, was now consistently glowing, almost like it was tethering Terra to the esper a few yards away. One could also theorize that it was altering her state of mind.

"Silly sod?" Terra twisted her head completely on its side, much like a bird. The pose looked uncomfortable and impossible. "You sound very much like that long dead goody-two-shoes queen. It matters not. We'll see who the sod is once I destroy everyone on this godforsaken planet!" She made a mad dash in Celes's direction, twin katana points first.

Celes brought her ice shield into existence, but she might as well have been dancing in a wet T-shirt contest. The closer Terra's full body flame got, the smaller and weaker the shield became. Not wanting to be impaled, she dodged out of the way and rolled to a crouching position. "Destroy everyone? What the hell happened to healing people?"

A familiar mechanical sound echoed around the gorge by the time Terra had stopped at the edge of the fire. She raised a glowing hand to the sky and, somehow, had stopped Edgar's supporting fire. The arrows merely hung in the air as if time had ceased to exist for them. "Healing?" She once again turned her head on its side and allowed a wild grin to spread across her face. "I'll show you what I think of that worthless magic!"

With a cry of surprise, Celes managed to bring her shield up once more before the onslaught of arrows concentrated on her. But several explosions of pain told her in hindsight that she hadn't made it large enough. Several arrows had caught her on her legs and another embedded in her shoulder. She collapsed to the ground and tried ignoring the sharp stings coming from everywhere. "You…bitch."

A firm grip on her jaw forced her attention upwards. Terra was lording over her with that painful looking head position and that stupid, yet scary grin. After laughing, Terra said, "You may look like her, you may sound like her, but you certainly are not formidable like her. But still, I can pretend that you are her, allowing me great closure. Rejoice, little girl. I may let you live to see the demise of the rest of your race." It might have been a trick of the eyes, especially with stars of pain exploding everywhere, but it almost looked as if the electrical arcs surrounding her were pulsating when she spoke.

Celes chuckled. "I love it when you talk dirty to me, Terra," she said. "Strip me naked and rock me like a hurricane."

A kick to the ribs sent her sprawling to her back and led to a coughing fit. "I'll teach you to show Valigarmanda respect, you magic thieving twat!"

Before she knew it, there was another explosion of pain in her other shoulder. Terra had pinned her to the ground with a katana! Celes nearly shrieked in pain. She tried to stifle it as much as she could as she wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction! "Valigarmanda?" she stammered with a cough. "That's a stupid name." The electricity in the air had turned an angry deep red just before the katana twisted in her wound. She had no choice but to cry out this time; the pain was too unbearable.

Terra cackled with glee. "Don't mock that which you don't understand, little girl," she said. "I have the power to level this entire gorge in one fell swoop. Combined with that of my new thrall, I can turn this entire continent into a wasteland."

Celes couldn't help noticing the usage of the word 'thrall.' That meant that Terra was under someone's control. Kefka was no longer present, so that meant that the only being with the power to do such a thing was-- That sonova bitch! "You're the esper."

"That's a cute look for a worthless human," Terra said. She leaned over Celes and brought a fireball into reality. "But don't fret, little girl. My thrall thinks highly of you. This entire time she has practically begged me to spare your miserable existence. She has even agreed to surrender herself to me completely in exchange for your safety." She laughed. "Although, I might just keep you as a pet. Your stolen magic is peculiar; familiar."

Celes growled in pain and frustration. Words! All worthless words that turned into sticky orange wax in her ears! The esper was toying with her now, and she was in no mood for it. If only she had access to a blade, then this asshole would see who had the last laugh! It suddenly dawned on her; she had a sword sticking out of her shoulder, one that Terra still had her hands on. It was an unorthodox way to go about it, but these were unorthodox times. With all the magic crackling about, with Terra holding on to the other end, there was a chance that she'd die from over-consumption. It didn't matter. She'd give her life if it meant that Terra was free of some asshole's mental grip.

"Hey, bird-brain," she spat. "How about the next time you possess my friend you make sure I'm not touching a sword?"

Terra's face quickly dropped into one of confusion. "Wait. What?"

Celes didn't waste any time opening the floodgates. Terra's sword, acting as a lightning rod, channeled everything through her wound in a far from pleasant experience. She cried out in agony as the electrifying pain was so great that she could feel its stabbing in her toes. The electricity that had surrounded Terra flickered multiple times before shifting to its new home deep in her shoulder. She arced herself upward to relieve the pain, but, if anything, that only made it worse.

Under normal circumstances, Runic only drew magic from the surrounding environment. But she was now drawing an overwhelming amount straight from the esper, including thoughts and feelings. She had a desire to kill all and destroy all using nothing but the triad of elements at her disposal – fire, lightning, and ice. Creatures of all shapes, sizes, and types flashed through her mind's eye – a horned man with lavender hair, a naked blonde woman armed with a harp, a colossal dog-like creature covered in fire, a scowling woman made entirely of ice; they were all familiar and strangers at the same time. The final vision was one of herself dressed in the clothing of royalty. The intense anger at this memory sent her into a panic of pain and even deeper into the haze of confusion. The world around her began to wobble and contort as if it were behind a bowl of quivering gelatin or a distorted funhouse mirror. If this didn't stop, she was going to die!

HOW? HOW DO YOU HAVE MADUIN'S--?

The world exploded in a flash of light, the signature sign of Runic finishing its job only on a much grander scale, and all that Celes could hear was that of silence. Most feeling disappeared leaving her only with the sensation that she was falling down a deep, dark hole.

Had she…? Had she died?

The farther she fell, the louder the crying of the wind became. The longer she tumbled, the lighter the sky became. She just kept falling, falling, falling, until she snapped through an invisible barrier and landed face first in the snow.

Celes propped herself up on her elbows and spat dirty snow from her mouth. The first thing she noticed was the absence of her injuries. She secondly noticed that they were on an entirely different summit of the Narshean Gorge. LOCKE stood nearby, offering a hand to help her to her feet. Behind him, EDGAR, SABIN, a normal looking TERRA, some old Doman she had never seen before, and some scraggly looking kid were standing around the frozen esper—no, Valigarmanda. It was strange. She had never seen those last two, but somehow, they were familiar at the same time. Just who were they?

"That was a close call!" EDGAR said with a wipe of his brow.

Celes wordlessly took LOCKE's help in standing and immediately regretted it. Why the bloody hell was she wearing a green one-piece swimsuit with a cape and combat boots?! Who had let her dress like this?! No wonder LOCKE was staring at her with star-struck eyes! All of her goods were practically hanging out for the whole world to see! Even more surprising was EDGAR not paying her clothing, or lack thereof, any mind.

Another oddity: why were everyone's names now coming to her in all capitals? It was…weird.

The old Doman—the name CYAN popped into her head for some reason—spoke up with a near indecipherable archaic accent. He sounded as if he found unexpected foreign inquisitions, silly walks, and a dead parrot's journey to the afterlife hilarious. "Zounds! Mayhap it liveth and breathes still?"

Celes wanted to scream out a warning, that Valigarmanda was a dangerous creature hell-bent on the destruction of humanity and possibly even the world. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out other than the sound of air in a tube.

"I know," SABIN said with a nod. "Impossible, right?"

"GAU!" said the boy as he waved his hands above his head.

TERRA cried out and took several steps back. Before Celes could run to her, LOCKE and both Figaro brothers had beat her to the punch. It was strange since TERRA usually ran to her first for any kind of support or for any reason. She was like a cat with separation anxiety. Leave her alone long enough, and she'd start ripping up the curtains and the carpet.

"TERRA!" LOCKE said as he helped her maintain her balance. "What is it?"

A blinding arc of lightning shot out from the esper and collided into TERRA. The explosion knocked LOCKE back several feet from his original position. If Celes hadn't acted quickly and grabbed him at the last moment, he would have been a smoking pancake at the bottom of the gorge.

The group huddled closer to TERRA as she crouched in the snow with a whimper. "Don't let him control you!" Celes tried saying, but again nothing came out. She instead settled on placing a comforting hand on a shoulder. The next thing she knew, she was laying at the edge of the cliff with the feeling that she'd been socked in the jaw with a softball bat.

LOCKE and EDGAR had been thrown over the edge and were clinging on as if their lives had depended on it. SABIN had been thrown the farthest, over the bridge and onto the next cliff. CYAN and the boy were missing in action, presumably in the same predicament as EDGAR and LOCKE.

TERRA cried out in pain as she held her head with a cringe. The air in the mountains flashed with a strobing blue light and buzzed alive. There was so much magic in the air that reality rippled like a pond's disturbed surface or a bowl of gelatin in an earthquake.

"TERRA 'n the esper…" SABIN slurred with awe.

Celes forced her aching body to its feet. TERRA needed her! If Valigarmanda gained control of her, it was game over!

"There's some kind of reaction!" Edgar said from behind.

Celes tried making her way to TERRA as quickly as she could, but it felt as if her body was in a thick fog and twenty minutes behind. She had to tear her away from the esper's influence!

"Please, tell me!" TERRA said with a squeak. "Who?! Who am I?!"

"TERRA," EDGAR shouted. "Step away from the esper!"

EDGAR's warning came too late. Just as Celes was about to reach out and grab TERRA's shoulder, another bout of electricity sparked between them and the esper. That added little bit of magic was just enough for another explosion, one that flung her far and fast beyond the solid ground of the cliff's summit. As gravity snatched hold of her, all she could do was stare in panic as the frozen river below raced toward her. She screamed a last-minute prayer to any god who'd listen. She had no fears of death, but this was not how she wanted to die!

Celes braced herself before smashing through the ice. White hot pain shot through her, forcing her to choke on the freezing river enveloping her. It was so cold that even she couldn't tolerate it! She thrashed about in a valiant effort to break the surface, but she couldn't tell which way was up. Everything was dark. Everything burned. Her chest tightened to squeeze every bit of air out of her empty lungs. The biting cold and muddled sounds only added to the confusion.

The mind was willing and unrelenting, but the flesh was weak and finally had enough. She reached out one last time above her to feel the sweet nothingness of air, but she was so frozen, her nerves so overloaded, that she felt nothing regardless. Her eyes slammed shut as her body gave up its battle. All that dominated her thoughts were TERRA and an overwhelming desire to sleep.

"CELES!" Was that Locke?

"I got her!" And Sabin?

Even in her drowsy, unfeeling, half-dead state, Celes recognized a peculiar magical feeling; she had felt this before landing in this strange place that was familiar but not. She had snapped through an invisible barrier and could feel its wobbling in the magical haze surrounding her. A refreshing warmth returned feeling all over her body. She recognized this secondary sensation, Terra's healing magic. It cleared the fog in her mind. It soothed the ache in her lungs, eased the burning all over. But what it didn't do was fill said lungs with air.

Celes bolted upright with a gasp and took in all the air she could, her eyes all the while snapping to various points in her surroundings. She was on a summit above Narshe. Edgar and the others were dead ahead, watching her with concern. Her shoulders and legs were still painful and bloody from arrows, but she was no longer drowning in a frozen river and certainly wasn't going to question why. Such things were better left under the assumption that they were dreams or figments of a disturbed mind.^[1]

Beside her, Terra was on her knees violently shaking, shedding violent tears, and appearing violently normal. The expression on her once again human face was one that reminisced of the night they had found each other—silent paralyzing terror. She did move her jaw a few times as if to speak, but nothing came out.

Celes's shoulders screamed in protest as she shared with Terra a tight embrace. Much to her surprise, she was roughly shoved away with a muttered apology. While Terra had quickly disappeared down the path back to town, her heart-wrenching wails of anguish echoed throughout the gorge.

Celes fell back into the snow with a sigh, a metaphorical katana now lodged in her heart. If Valigarmanda had been telling the truth and Terra had been aware of the fight, she, no doubt, would have been feeling responsible for actions that hadn't been her own. She glared daggers in its direction, knowing full well that it was watching the situation. If that overgrown, multicolored asshole ever attempted to enthrall Terra again, she was going to try her hand at making Albrook's famous fried chicken.

Locke, Edgar, and Sabin appeared over her, all three showing signs of concern. "You okay, Celes?" Locke said.

"My life's complete, mate. I now know how a pincushion and an over-filled water balloon feel," she said.

Sabin adopted a bewildered look. "How does that make you complete?"

"I believe she is being facetious, Sabin," Edgar said with a sigh.

"Oh, right."

Now if only she knew who Maduin was and why Valigarmanda seemed to think there was a connection between her and them. Fat chance of that happening anytime soon. She had a better chance of getting Terra drunk now this was over. However, the chance of getting herself drunk was even better. She muttered, "I need a god damn drink."

Narshe at night was not much different from Narshe during the day. Nobody was out and about. It was quiet aside from the snow gently wisping over itself and the occasional whistle of the wind, perfect for someone seeking silence, star gazing, and time to be lost within oneself. Occasionally, Terra's mental journeying was interrupted by the drunks down below getting excited over something, but it was never anything that brought her to a full stop. Not even the crescent moon setting behind the high rises of the gorge could bring her to a standstill. It did, however, attempt to dredge some long-lost memory up from the murk in her mind but the line had snapped, allowing it to slip free.

She hugged her knees closer to her chin and hid her face behind them. They made a horrible shield to hide from the world, but it did make her feel slightly better especially considering that the events at the summit replayed torturously in her head. She had allowed the esper to control her and he had nearly killed Celes which meant that she had nearly killed Celes. She had tried healing injuries, but the extent of and the sight of those injuries, injuries that she had inflicted, had nearly crushed her. She had nearly taken a life most precious and destroyed the world's most beautiful smile. That scared her just as much as the thought of being enslaved to another or having to traverse this world alone.

She didn't want to be alone. And if that esper had gotten its way…

"Penny for your thoughts, my dear?"

The forceful disengagement with the starlit sky caused Terra to let loose a yelp of surprise. She turned to the source of the voice and discovered Edgar sitting next to her and grinning like he had won the lottery. Somehow, he had found her in her hiding spot above the tavern and, somehow, had joined her undetected. She wanted to berate him for the intrusion on her solitude, but instead chose to keep silent and buried herself further into her arms and legs with a sigh.

"That depends," she muttered. "What's a penny?"

Edgar chuckled as he pulled an intricate, polished pipe as well as a satchel of tobacco from under his royal cloak. "A penny was once used as a form of currency in Figaro," he said, his tone implying that it was information that she absolutely needed to know. He proceeded to pack said pipe before lighting it. "It is unfortunately no longer used thanks in part to the…" He laughed with a puff of smoke. "My apologies! I tend to ramble on about useless information! Pennies are not important to this discussion. I was merely wondering if you wanted to talk about what is bothering you."

Terra shrugged and rolled her head to one side to get a better look at the man beside her. "There's nothing bothering me," she said. "Although, I do like the smell of that pipe, hey." One-part lie, one-part truth. She liked Edgar, but not enough to share her issues. Only she could solve these problems herself. Well, maybe Celes, too, but she didn't want to break down in tears at the sight of her mangled and bruised body.

"Why thank you!" he said with glee. "It contains a mixture of cherry blossom and…" His pipe moved from one side of his mouth to the other which, along with his scrutinizing stare, gave the impression that he wasn't going to let her off the hook easily. "I'm afraid that I shall have to call shenanigans on that one, my dear, and smack you with a broom! There is something bothering you! It is written on your face, clear as the stars in the sky!"

"Those are freckles."

Edgar took several puffs on his pipe before showering her with a grin. "Now, now. There is no need for sarcasm, my dear. I am only offering you a shoulder and a sympathetic ear. It is bad health to hold such things in."

"I… I don't understand," Terra said. "Why? Are you trying to use me like the Empire? Like… Like that damn esper? Is it because of my fire? My healing magic?" She hadn't meant for her frustrations to vent, but they had, in one sticky clump. The two of them had just met several days ago. Why would someone offer emotional support to someone they barely knew? Money? Something else?

A look of betrayal had flashed across Edgar's face before it disappeared behind a stoic frown. He puffed on his pipe for a long moment of silence, almost as if he were choosing his words carefully. "No. No. No. And no. If you like, I shall give you three reasons why as well. First of all, a friend of General Chere is a friend of mine. Secondly, it goes against my nature to leave a beautiful woman to suffer on her own. And lastly, you can say that I am curious to know if I am your type." He smirked his pipe to the corner of his mouth. "I guess the fact that you could kill a man with a mere thought and a flick of the wrist could be a reason as well, but do not get overly excited about that. It is practically dead last on the list of reasons."

"Your type? I don't understand." Edgar was a strange one. Just when Terra felt she was at a point that he made sense, he proclaimed something outlandish and confusing, such as this. She knew she wasn't the only one. Celes and Locke had rolled their eyes and buried their faces in their palms numerous times.

"Yes. As in, the type of man you have interest in."

"There are multiple types of men? Why would I be interested in a specific one or even one at all?"

His smirk became bolder. "So, you opt for the fairer sex, then? That certainly explains things."

Terra had no response for him other than a frown that she made certain he had seen before she buried it between her arms and legs once again. This conversation had gotten off track worse than a train wreck. She could only shake her head at just how confusing he was. What the bloody hell was 'the fairer sex?' Had she missed something somewhere? "I'm done talking to you," she said.

"My apologies, Terra," Edgar said with a laugh. "I have derailed the conversation with perversions far more than I should have."

"No kidding."

"Look, I want you to know that it was not an easy task for Banon to ask of you as he did, especially when your history with the Empire and…more recent events are taken into consideration. If we force our beliefs and ideologies onto you, then we are no different to the Empire and their silly slave crown technology."

Terra rolled her head to the side and shot Edgar a glare. "Why are you telling me this? This isn't why I was up here."

He smiled in return. "I know. I mentioned it because I want you to be aware that we Returners are not out to use or abuse you. I want you to know that there is a difference between deranged jesters, thousand-year-old espers with thousand-year-old grudges, and us. Despite Banon's finality, you can choose to join us or not. It is your freedom to make that choice."

Had she a choice? FireBeard had worded things in such a way that made it seem that her cooperation had been mandatory. And now here come along Edgar telling her that it wasn't. Typical Edgar; confusing her to no end.

He continued, "Regardless of what you choose, Figaro will always welcome you. All you need do is give the word."

Terra gave a half-hearted nod. "Why…" She paused to sit up straight. "Why didn't you tell me about Doma?"

"My apologies. I did not believe either you or Celes had been ready to hear such troubling information. Banon obviously thought otherwise."

"I wish he had never told me. It's hard enough coming to terms that I nearly killed everyone, but knowing that I slaughtered an entire castle full of innocents…" The recollection of those memory fragments that had surfaced in the mayor's house made her shudder. And if she had slaughtered a castle of innocents, what worse atrocities had she done?

"I shall not pretend to understand what it is you suffer through, Terra, but I can assure you of this: despite how it may look or how you may feel, you do not have to be alone. Sometimes, all you need do is walk to the bar and order a drink."

Terra nodded, all too aware of the scratchy feeling at the back of her throat. "I am kind of thirsty."

Edgar stood and patted her on the shoulder. "When you are ready, come join us down below. If I am not mistaken, I believe there is a sister golden hair waiting for a friend to join her."

Terra sighed with relief after Edgar had gone on his merry way. But now that she was alone once again, she very much felt it, almost as if she had been stripped naked and left with not a scrap of clothing – a feeling she was well acquainted with. She wasn't ready to face Celes yet, but she had to. The solace she sought could only be found in one place, and that was in the company of her friend. The sparkling sky did bring her comfort, but it just wasn't the same. Perhaps the only way was just to get it over and done with, like ripping off a bandage.

Facing Celes was the only way to feel safe again.

It wasn't long before she was on the ground below and walking through the screeching, swinging doors of the tavern. Surprisingly, the place was devoid of the millions upon millions of people that she had been expecting. Not surprisingly, it was filled to the brim with a smokey haze despite no one smoking. After finding no source, Terra briefly wondered if perhaps there was some sort of unwritten law that stated all taverns needed to be filled with smoke. It was annoying, but she had to admit, it did give the atmosphere a particular sort of ambiance.

Dead ahead, it was difficult to miss Celes slumped over at the bar and drowning in several bottles' worth of sorrows. The bandages covering her shoulders and legs broke Terra's heart and her courage. Her first instinct was to fly as far away as she could, but her desire to press forward kept her rooted in place.

Laughter from the corner of the room captured her attention. There, Locke and Arvis were playing a game of Triple Triad while Edgar and Sabin looked on with excitement. Several mugs of varying states between empty and full littered their table along with unused cards. Edgar took notice of her in the doorway, grinned, and jerked a thumb towards Celes. She almost heard him say, "Walk up to the bar and order a drink." Except it had been in her voice and that made it a touch weird.

With a shake of her head, Terra took the plunge. As she crossed the room, she unsuccessfully tried to quiet her beating heart; it was so loud she could hear its rhythms in her ears. When she arrived at the empty seat beside Celes, she couldn't help wrinkling her nose at the pungent smell of alcohol. It certainly wasn't cider they were serving here. Although, she wished they did; cider smelled nicer.

"Oi! Look who finally decided come down off her high chocobo, hey," Celes said with a wobbly slur.

Terra had to pull her frown up from the floor. This woman looked like Celes. She sounded like Celes. She even had the same bright magical field as Celes, but she certainly didn't give off the same impression as Celes. Celes was usually very guarded and rigid, only relaxing when she felt no one was watching. In the now, she uncharacteristically slouched in her seat. Her form hiding jacket was missing, allowing her torn and bloodied tank-top and barely contained cleavage to go on full display. She looked ready to spill all over the place – whether that was with words, alcohol, vomit, or boob was anyone's best guess.

"You've been drinking," Terra finally said.

"I'm not drunk, mate," Celes said, defensively. She hiccupped so violently that she nearly fell out of her barstool. "Okay, maybe I am. Honestly, I can't tell, hey. Oi! Barkeep, a drink for the lovely lady."

"I didn't say you were drunk." To sit down, Terra had to stretch herself to the point of snapping her ankles. These barstools were so high! A person had to be a giant to get up on them comfortably. By the time she had finally settled, a bottle of brown liquid had appeared in front of her. Garland's Sorrows, the label read. Its odor, aided with a hint of cinnamon, was strong enough it could open interdimensional portals. Interesting. Celes had been drowning in Sorrows. "So, uh, what's this?"

Celes grinned in a lopsided all-over-the-place sort of way as she leaned closer. "A bottle of rum?"

"I drink rum?"

"I dunno," Celes said with a lazy shrug. "After today, it'd be a damn bloody good time to start, hey!" She somehow, to Terra's amazement, hiccupped and giggled at the same time, which gave birth to some sort of hiccup and giggle hybrid. It was both disgusting and adorable at the same time; stomach-churning cuteness at its finest.

Terra couldn't help but tilt her head in puzzlement. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because I always wanted to get drunk with you."

Getting drunk with others was a thing? Was this what normal people did? "Why?"

Again, there was a lazy shrug and an even lazier wave of the hand that nearly had an accident with a bottle. Celes said with garbled drunkenness, "I dunno. Just because? Why do people do half the things they do? Why do they want half the things they want?"

Taken aback by the ferocity of the question, Terra looked around with hopes that someone would answer for her. Clear on the other side of the room, Locke, Sabin, and Arvis were still engrossed in their game of cards. Edgar was at the other end of the bar ordering drinks. Even the bartender couldn't help her since he was pouring said drinks. She wasn't even going to bother with any of the other patrons; they were probably still mad at her for burning up the town. She turned her attention back to Celes, who was staring at her expectantly when not jumping with a hiccup.

Terra tried to hide in her seat and turned her gaze to the bottle of motor fuel in front of her. "I… I don't know," she said.

Celes downed a significant amount of liquid from her bottle before lazily adopting an adorably confused expression. "You what?"

"I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

Terra turned back to Celes, who was in the middle of finishing the last of her drink. "What?"

"That's what I want to know."

"I'm confused."

"No, you're beautiful."

Terra's heart stopped, the force setting her cheeks ablaze. Had Celes just muttered what she thought she had? Had it been a truth that had slipped out? Or had it been the result of alcohol's nonsense? She had to find out for sure! "I'm sorry?"

Celes' face spread wide with a lazy, relaxed smile as she leaned closer. "I…" The smile quickly crumpled up into something almost unrecognizable. "I think I'm gonna fall."

With a gasp, Terra was quick to the floor and caught Celes before she tumbled off her stool and injured herself any further. Naturally, the pose they ended up in had attracted the attention of most the men in the room. Celes had face-planted into the exposed part of Terra's chest and had nearly pulled her dress down with her. Terra, meanwhile, had stabilized her by way of hands on hips.

The room broke out into clapping and shrill whistling, the latter courtesy of Edgar. Mortified, Terra tried to get Celes to stand on her own, but the stubborn woman continued giggling stupidly while repeatedly kissing any exposed skin. "Celes! Stop it! You're drunk!"

"There's nothing wrong with cutting loose after absorbing so much magical energy that you become yourself in an alternate reality!" Celes said into Terra's chest.

"That doesn't make any sense."

Celes lifted her head and, finally, decided it was time for a face to face discussion. "The only thing not making sense is you not drinking with me!" Their strange embrace quickly turned into a hug that showcased something just never seen with Celes – vulnerability. "And I have to dull the pain somehow. You left me up on that mountain after I stuck with you and protected you." Even the tone of her voice had changed, falling from loud and arrogant to shy and minuscule.

Terra sighed and rested her forehead on Celes'. That panic after being freed from Valigarmanda's control was something she regretted now, but she could still make it right. "I'm sorry," she said. "I did come in here to talk to you about that. But…"

Celes broke the hug and cupped Terra's cheek with a calloused hand. Her smile shined brightly, filling the room with warmth. "Well, why don't we go someplace private, hey?"

Terra took Celes by the hand and led her towards the door. "I'd like that, actually," she said. "I'd feel more comfortable away from…people."

"I'm glad you agree, hey. 'Cause I think I'm about to chunder."

"What?"

As soon as they passed through the door, Celes leaned up against the side of the building and lost a battle with her stomach. As Terra soothingly rubbed her back, she couldn't help but think that this was not what she had in mind for the evening.

"I'm Lone Wolf, the pickpocket."

"Shut up!"

Wedge leaned back against the wall of their quote/unquote cell and crossed his arms. The mayor of Narshe seemed to have a thing against jailhouses, so the Returners had used the first thing they could get access to, the mayor's storage shed. It was filled to the brim with odd trinkets, old clocks, buckets of various sizes, golden hairpins, and some strange fellow in a wolf's mask, some really annoying fellow in a wolf's mask.

"I'm Lone Wolf, the pickpocket," he said once again. Wedge was beginning to get the impression that was all he knew how to say.

"Oi! We heard you the first twenty times!" Vicks shouted. "Now, for god's sake, shut the hell up!"

Wedge sighed. He still had trouble believing that this predicament was real. There had been no trouble believing that Lord Kefka had abandoned them and left them to fend for themselves. However, it was hard to swallow that they were the only three left out of a group of nearly a hundred.

Probably better to be a Returner prisoner than killed hypocritically by Kefka for failure.

The wooden door opened, revealing a young, pretty Returner woman and a tray loaded with donuts and steaming cups of coffee. Wedge shared a look of concern with Biggs. Was it laced with poison? Truth serum for a later interrogation? Well, those Returners would be sorely disappointed! They were Imperial soldiers! They knew nothing because it was the Imperial Way!

The Returner guard gave them a big smile as she curtsied, all the while with her tray completely level. "So, who'd like a coffee?!"

Biggs stood from his bucket, the speed of his rising so great that it flipped over. "What's the catch, sir?" he demanded.

The Returner shrugged. "Name's Rinoa, not Sir," she said apologetically. "And it's instant coffee, not the proper brewed stuff. I'm really sorry about that."

"Surely, you're trying to poison us!" said the other soldier whose name Wedge could not remember.

"No," said the Returner with a shake of her head. "Consider this an attempt to make up for the lack of a proper prison cell. I mean, there isn't even a lock on the door."

Wedge scrambled to pick his jaw up off the floor. There was no doubt that Vicks and the other guy were busy doing the same thing. Here was one more thing to add to the list of unbelievable things that had happened. "We could have left at any time?!" He had to ask to be certain. She had to have been mistaken.

She nodded. "Yeah. We figured that you'd rather want to stay here with coffee than go back to the Empire's abuse. I heard General Chere's story of living and working conditions under Kefka. It was heart-wrenching! You don't even have unions!"

"I think I've died and gone to heaven, sir!" Biggs whispered. He was swooning with hearts in his eyes, though Wedge suspected that it had nothing to do with the beauty of the coffee girl and more everything to do with the prospect of switching sides.

The Returner set her tray on a nearby table. "Help yourselves whenever you want," she said with a bright smile and a small wave of the hand. "Oh, and thanks for looking out for the mayor's son. Thinks he's a wolf or something." She looked around before mockingly whispering, "He's a bit special."

"I'm Lone Wolf, the pickpocket!" the masked man shouted, even though the proclamation fell on deaf ears.

"If you boys need anything, just let me know. I'm stationed just outside." The Returner gave them a wink before disappearing out the door. And with that, they were once again alone.

"I dunno about you sirs," Biggs said, "but I'm thinking that if an organization offers donuts and coffee to their prisoners, then they might not be all that bad to work for."

"They even have a union!" said the other guy. "No wonder General Chere defected."

Wedge nodded in agreement. He said, "Surely, working for the Rebel Alliance--"

"Returner Alliance," Biggs said flatly.

"--Returner Alliance would be much better than anything Lord Kefka had to offer. Kicks to the balls? Set on fire? Turned to ash? Impaled on a clock tower?"

"No thank you, sir!"

"Here we get coffee, donuts, and--"

"That Returner sheila wasn't too bad on the eyes either, mate," interjected the man whose name Wedge really needed to learn.

Wedge looked over what remained of his squad. Should they remain loyal to an Emperor and a system that had failed them time and time again? Or should they defect? "Let's have a coffee," he said, "and see if we can get an audience with--"

The man in the wolf mask abruptly stood and bellowed, "I'm Lone Wolf! The pickpocket!"

Wedge shot a glare in the masked man's direction. Biggs took it a step further; he raised a fist, seconds away in decking this masked lunatic in his fake furry nose. The other guy looked like he was about to toss a scalding hot coffee.

"Right," Wedge said. "Who's in favor of ditching this nutcase and officially defecting?"

The answer was unanimous as they stormed out of the shed, coffees and donuts in hand. And with that, they left Lone Wolf the Pickpocket to his own devices, never to be seen again.

^[1] In an alternate reality not too far away, CELES wakes up in a bed in ARVIS' house. LOCKE is sitting at her side.

CELES:
*groans* Aw, man…

LOCKE:
CELES! You awake?

CELES:
I think so… I feel like I'd been run over by a runaway chocobo cart.

LOCKE:
I'm not surprised. You fell into the Narshe River. SABIN had to jump in after you.

CELES:
Oh, no…

LOCKE:
We had to revive you with a Phoenix Down.

CELES:
That might explain the really strange dream, then.

LOCKE:
Strange dream? What was it about?

CELES:
I'm still trying to work that out, at least what I remember. I was dressed like a man, seriously injured, and had a crying malnourished TERRA caressing me as if we were lovers…

LOCKE:
*winks* I can think of worse things.

CELES:
Plus, everyone's names were a combination of capital and lowercase lettering!

LOCKE:
*gasp*

CELES:
*gasp*

LOCKE:
So... You been hitting the cider hard lately?

CELES:
LOCKE!

LOCKE:
*waggles a finger* What? It's a valid question. ^[return]

Chapter Text

Celes immediately regretted opening her eyes. Why was it so freaking bright?! Through a tiny slit between her eyelids, she concluded that Mister Blue Sky had come before she had been ready. That bastard and his sunny disposition could fuck right off.

She yawned before pulling the covers of her comfy bed up over her head. Granted, it had nothing on the beds Edgar kept at Figaro Castle, but for a cheap inn out in the frozen asscrack of the world, this was high class. The downside? The silence of being out in the middle of nowhere made her head ache, or maybe it was the hangover. Either way, a full day of lazy sleeping was the only cure.

"Good morning!" Terra's voice from the foot of the bed was sweet and cheery, almost sickeningly so. All that was missing was the ice cream and chocolate syrup.

Celes grumbled a reply in kind. The last three days the two of them had done nothing but have fun drinking themselves to oblivion and back again. Damn that girl for not suffering hangovers. Considering how skinny she was, she should have succumbed to alcohol poisoning by now. It was as if she wasn't human.

Celes made another attempt at braving the sunlight and fought through the pain. At least this time didn't feel like someone was gouging her eyes out with wooden spoons. It took a long moment, but the glare focused into an interesting scene at the end of the bed, a beautiful scene that prompted her to sit up post-haste. Terra was completely nude save for a bright golden towel wrapped around her head and a pillow clutched in hand.

"Terra, why are you--" The words hadn't even fully left her mouth when the world went completely black, a feather stuffed pillow snuffing out the stinging light and sending her back to the soft bed.

Musical giggling followed a cry of "I win!" from across the room.

Like a swamp zombie rising from the primordial soup, in this case comprised mostly of rum, hazy memories of the game they had been playing last night crawled from the depths – 'Drunken Pillow Shieldmaidens,' or in simpler terms, a pillow fight. Both Celes and Terra had been evenly matched throughout the entire night, even with the continued degradation of alcohol. She must have passed out at some point, leaving herself open for a morning sneak attack. She removed the suffocating bag of softness and sat up with a groan.

Terra sat down on the edge of the bed nearby and grinned the biggest grin that could fit on her slender face. "Good morning again!" she said brightly.

It was difficult maintaining eye contact when the girl of her desires was naked in front of her. Instead, Celes focused on the jarring color dissonance between Terra's green hair and the bright yellow towel on her head. "What are you doing up so frickin' early?" she grumbled.

"I'm not hungover like some of us." The cheeky grin radiating off Terra's face was bright enough to light the darkest corners of the darkest hearts. And that cheeky tone… Well, someone was starting to remember themselves. This was progress and progress was good. "You might want to get out of bed sometime today, sleepyhead. Edgar said that Banon wants to speak with me."

"…which means that he'll want to speak with the rest of us." Celes rubbed her throbbing temples with a groan. "Bloody hell."

Musical giggling again filled the room. "Still drunk, are we?"

"Hush you." She probably was. The room wasn't spinning haphazardly yet, but the idea of standing on her legs made her stomach run and hide behind her spine. "I'm curious, though. You going to turn down his offer to join the Returners again?"

Terra's sunny disposition turned stormy. Her shoulders deflated as she stared at her wringing hands and the imaginary laundry she had hurriedly started folding. "I don't know," she said softly. "I don't want to fight. I just want to hide away from things that want to use me as a dangerous weapon."

Celes sighed. The entire town of Narshe had no idea how close they had come to becoming a crispy tortilla. Even she had no real idea how close she had come to death in her fight to free Terra from the esper. Becoming oneself in an alternate universe was close enough, and close enough had been too close if anyone asked her.

"And if you get sent off somewhere," Terra continued, "I'll be alone." She hugged herself and shivered. "I don't want to be alone."

Celes begrudgingly swung her legs over the edge of the bed before hugging Terra from the side. "I'm not going anywhere without you. Not now. Not after losing you. I'll punch anyone who tries to tell me otherwise."

Terra tried hiding between her shoulders as her face went red, most likely from embarrassment. "But I nearly killed you…"

Celes shook her head and fought off room-spinning nausea. "Stop thinking like that. A bastard egotistical esper nearly killed me. You just happened to be there." She hugged Terra tighter, not only to keep from falling face-first off the bed but to raise Terra's spirits as well.

Terra nodded slowly and flashed a weak grin before going back to her hand-wringing and imaginary knitting. "I'm sorry for making things awkward between us."

"Sweetheart, there's nothing awkward between us." A total lie, of course. That awkward thing between them was Celes herself, but she sure as hell wasn't going to admit that. Doing so would sink the H.M.S. Friendship and then she'd be a general with no one to sail through life with. She scoffed softly, mostly because laughing would have split her head wide open. "You want awkward? Share a room with Edgar and count the number of times he calls you beautiful before he tries to cop a feel."

Terra doubled over with giggles and lost the towel on her head in the process. Her damp hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back like a verdant waterfall. It also perfectly framed her face, giving the impression that she was a forest nymph hiding behind a veil of grass. All she needed now were pointed ears. "You're sweet," she said, "in a brash sort of way."

To Celes, Terra was beautiful in a…

The train of thought died when Terra leaned forward and softly brushed a kiss on Celes' cheek that cut through the hangover like a hot knife through cold butter. She then, like a sulking lap cat, tried to bury herself in a shoulder. "But… If things aren't awkward then why do you sometimes stare at me and quickly look away?"

Because there were so many things to say and Celes didn't know how to do so. She held her breath for a moment before letting it out slowly. Was she that obvious in her feelings? Or was Terra more observant than she thought? Yes, she wanted to sing her heart out, but the fear of rejection was a very real roadblock that she just couldn't find her way around. In the roadmap in her mind, there were no detours nor were there signs pointing any pathways out. She was on her own, lost with no hope of being found or taken to her destination.

She had no problems getting other girls out of their knickers, but for whatever reason Terra was different. Her social confidence fell to the darkest pits of the earth and, funny enough, buried itself. She could fantasize all she wanted, but the chances of Terra being attracted to women were about as great as… as… as something just as equally outlandish. Terra saw her as a close friend and nothing more. Yes, this she knew.

Celes began to feel the uncomfortableness of Terra quietly passing the time by staring at her as she patiently waited for a response to her query. It was nerve-wracking. It also forced her to blurt out the first thing that came to mind. "If you want me to stop staring then stop being so bloody beautiful." As soon as the words had left her lips, she mentally cradled her face in her palm. What the hell?! Of all the stupidest, corniest, and cheesiest things she could have said… She either couldn't control herself around Terra these days or she'd been hanging around Edgar too much.

Terra sat in a stunned silence, her mouth silently trying to find words before she turned pink in a full body flush. "You… You think I'm beautiful?" she finally said to the cold wooden floor.

The awkwardness in the room was so thick that it could have been sliced up and served for breakfast with toast and coffee. So much for there being nothing awkward between the two of them. Celes cursed her malfunctioning mouth, the stupidity bouncing around inside her head, and the hangover she was suffering from. She too looked at the floor in silence. If she said anything further, she was bound to make things worse.

"So, you going to cop a feel anytime soon?" The inquisitive Terra had crossed her arms behind her head which would have allowed easy access to the ample goods on her chest if Celes had chosen to take her up on her offer. And there they were, incredibly difficult to miss, taunting her with their taut perkiness and pointing at her with accusation.

A cold shiver went down Celes' spine. The awkwardness in the room became worse, suffocating even. The silence between them was deafening, so much so that the alarm clock at the bedside became rhythmic lightning strikes. A part of her wanted to take Terra up on that offer, grab two handfuls, and give a good old-fashioned squeeze. The other part of her panicked.

Should she do it? Should she not? No, the key here was not to be Edgar. But a challenge had been issued! She had to do it now! What should she say? Anything? Nothing at all? Was Terra serious? Was she joking?

The stand-off diffused when Terra giggled uncontrollably. Celes stared uncomprehendingly until the breaking of the tension smacked her down into her own snorting snickers. She fell back to the bed and cackled, tears flowing from her eyes like mighty rivers. She felt Terra's weight adjust on the bed as she fought to rub her eyes dry.

Soon, Terra was hovering overhead on her hands and knees, her hair creating a gorgeous verdant curtain that separated them from the rest of the mundane world. With a smug grin, she said, "You're easy to tease."

"You've been hanging around Edgar too much."

Terra stuck her tongue out in defiance. "Or maybe I just know how to push your buttons."

Celes couldn't keep the smile down as she sighed. "I know I've said this before, but, Baldur's Gate, I've missed you."

Terra found Banon on the outskirts of town, sitting on a rocky ledge and staring the mountain down, daring it to move from under his stony scrutiny. He stroked his bushy beard as he gazed outward, leading her to wonder why men with facial hair did such things. Was it a pleasurable thing? Did they do their actual thinking with their beards? Did stroking them help with the process? It was the strangest thing.

She was tempted to tease him with, "You'll go bald if you keep tugging at that!" However, her bravery faltered leaving her comfortable saying such cheeky things only to Celes and maybe Locke on a good day. If so inclined, FireBeard could single-handedly heft her up by her ponytail and chuck her off the edge of that drop-off in swift retribution. It was a long way down to the ground below the morning mists, and flying wasn't exactly something she excelled at.

Instead, Terra took comfort in rubbing her upper arm and hiding between her shoulders. Despite having spoken to him multiple times over the past few days, his overbearing presence still unnerved her. She wouldn't have been so worked up if Celes were present, but a certain someone needed the entire morning to flush half a week's worth of alcohol out of her system.

It was odd that Terra didn't suffer hangovers like Celes. Granted, she hadn't consumed as much alcohol, but she did feel a tad sluggish, tired, and ill-at-ease. At least she wasn't stumbling and needing to pray to the gods of porcelain. She chuckled at the thought, an action which caught Banon's attention.

"Ah, Terra," he said with a soft smile. "A pleasure to see you."

"Good morning," she said, returning the smile with a pinch of unease. She closed the gap between them and took him on his offer to sit beside him, perched precariously hundreds of feet, possibly even miles, to their deaths.

"I see the last few days of rest seem to have done you some good."

Terra's cheeks burned in embarrassment. She looked away to find something out in the mountains to focus on, but ultimately found nothing but mists, snow, and rock, none of which that were particularly interesting. "I, um, do feel a bit more relaxed, hey," she said between bites on her bottom lip. "Regular meals have helped, too, I think."

Banon nodded, his smile still warm underneath the beard. "Just looking at you, I can tell you suffered under Kefka's control," he said. "I won't ask what; the fact that he did so is deplorable enough. I'm just glad that I was able to help ease your suffering enough that you can walk around without General Chere as your shadow."

A ray of sunshine threatened to escape from behind Terra's impassive frown. "She's hungover."

FireBeard laughed hard enough that he could have caused an avalanche. This, thank the gods, never happened. "Of this, I am not surprised," he said. "Edgar has regaled me with stories of the General's affinity for rum. I never thought I would see it firsthand."

Terra nodded and nervously wrung her hands. She had initially been concerned about how much liquor Celes had been packing away until she had entered the drunken haze herself. She had become one with the peace and laughter in the world. Her worries had melted away. The danger chasing her had gone away. Fighting for survival had become a thing of the past. It had filled her to the point of bursting with happiness and some other descriptionless emotion.

Just thinking about this unknown emotion and its ties to Celes made her feel drunk, doubly so when actually drunk. She had gotten the same feeling when Celes had drunkenly sung to her, at least she assumed it had been to her. A near flawless rendition of "Aria Di Mezzo Carattere" Edgar had described it as he wiped away man-tears. Terra had never heard the song prior, probably since she had never seen the opera, The Dream Oath, but still found it a lovely tune that revealed a warm and tender side to a normally cold and stony general. She wanted to hear that wonderful voice one more time and wear it like a cozy cloak.

The warm fuzzies in her head must have shown on her face as Banon said with a rumbling laugh, "I won't ask." His demeanor then turned serious. "But I will have to push us forward. I'm sure you realize why I've asked to speak with you today."

Terra nodded, but silently wished she could go back to daydreaming. It was more fun than the conversation she knew was coming.

"Good. I can jump straight to the point," he said with a clearing of his throat. "I'll ask one final time; will you join us? Will you help us in putting a stop to the Empire and in preventing another War of the Magi?"

Terra sighed. She had put off answering for several days now because she hadn't wanted to think about it. She doubted she could get away with another. She had to decide now.

She could tell him no and lead a peaceful life in Figaro Castle at Edgar's invitation. But Celes had gone and joined the Returners without a second thought, which meant that she'd always be away fighting. That would then lead to Terra's involvement with Edgar and becoming his queen to live out her life dressed in fancy clothes, frequenting fancy parties, and birthing fancy children. Intriguing, but not her heart's desire.

She could instead get work as a serving wench at one of the Figaro taverns. There she would meet all sorts of interesting people and live out her life through their tales. She would wear a sexy cocktail dress and suffer being stared at, groped, and having sticky drinks tossed on her. Actually, no. Loneliness in a crowd was even worse than loneliness itself. And she wanted to smell like booze only if she'd been drinking it.

Terra desired traveling the world, discovering its history, and digging up its secrets. She wanted to share that adventure with Celes, and there was only one way that could happen. She didn't like it, but it was basically her only option. "I will," she said behind a wall of unease, "but I'm scared."

At first, Banon had seemed surprised as if he had been expecting a different response. That look disappeared as he patted her on the shoulder with a monstrous hand. How someone as big and scary as him could softly give comfort without breaking bones was a mystery. "This uncertainty you're feeling is only natural, my dear," he said soothingly. "You've been thrust into a world you have no memories of and along come we, asking if you would spearhead the operation to save it."

He had reached into his coat and produced a pair of gloves that were soon resting in Terra's hands. They were fingerless with crimson elbow length cuffs and sun yellow trim, the same colors as her dress. The material, unlike her dress, looked and felt like fabric but was as tough and rigid as steel. She studied them a moment longer before regarding FireBeard. "What're these?" she said. "Gloves?"

"Correct," he said. "Genji Gloves to be exact. Good luck relics that have been handed down in my family for generations. Supposedly they had been enchanted by mage knights during the War of the Magi to protect their wearer."

Terra returned her gaze to the gloves in her hands. Everyone had given her something, but she had nothing to give in return. It didn't feel right. "But why give them to me?"

"I have sired no children and am too old to do so now," he said with a sigh. "I'd pass them to my younger brother, but he has sired none to herald his legacy as well." His warm smile returned. "Consider them a gift, my dear. A gift of good luck and fortune; a beacon of light in a series of dark moments."

Surprisingly, the gloves were a perfect fit as if they had been designed specifically for her. A clichéd thought, of course, but that sounded much more epic than what it really was, a coincidence. The magic within pulsed haphazardly until settling to match her own rhythm. If her senses were right, and she suspected they were, then these gloves were powerful enough to stop blades like any heavy shield. A perfect accessory for a dual blade wielder!

Oh! And they were so cute!

"Thank you," Terra said with the softness of embarrassment. "But I…do have one condition. Wherever you send me, whatever you have me do, I… I want Celes to come with me." She met his warm gaze for a moment before quickly looking away and finding interest in rubbing her upper arm. "If something like Valigarmanda were to take control of me again…"

"Do not worry yourself, my child," Banon said. "I would not dream of separating one from her shadow. Besides, I am fully aware that the only way to combat magic is with magic."

Terra breathed a sigh of relief. He understood. She didn't have to plead her case.

"Now, with all that nonsense out of the way, I'd like you to gather everyone for a meeting at the Drunken Moogle."

"The Drunken Moogle?"

"The tavern, my dear. The one from where General Chere has been procuring her alcohol."

"Oh. Right."

And with that, Terra was dismissed, leaving her just as scared and confused as she had been in dawn's early light. On her travels back into Narshe, she accidentally bumped into Locke just outside the town gates, frightening the poor bastard nearly half to death. He had been so engrossed in staring at the mountainous scenery that he hadn't heard her approach.

"So, I take this to mean that you've joined the Returners?" he queried once hearing Banon's request.

Terra nodded. "They say that time makes things easier, but I'm still unsure if I made the right decision."

Locke's disposition soured immediately. Eye contact ceased when he chose to stare at the ground. "Time doesn't always make things easier," he said with a slight edge of… Anger? Sadness? Both? "The Empire took someone important away from me. It's been years, but it still feels like yesterday. Every day's been a struggle just to cope with the basics of living. I had no one to guide me or point me in the right direction."

Terra hadn't known that Locke had suffered. It was even possible that other Returners had similar stories to his…and hers. They wouldn't oppose the Empire so feverishly if they hadn't. "Is that why you…?"

"Joined the Returners? I wanted to make a difference, you know? I wanted the deaths of my loved ones to have meaning outside of more senseless bloodshed."

The apology she offered was a lame one and not hers to give, but she felt the need to offer it anyway.

"Don't apologize, Terra," he said. "Just promise me that you won't make the same mistake I did. Tell the ones important to you how you feel before it's too late. Don't leave it unspoken."

"I don't have anyone except Celes," she said to the ground beneath her feet. "If I have any family or other friends, I don't remember. She's the only person in this world familiar—no, important to me. I'd be lost without her."

Locke grinned broadly and locked his hands behind his head. "And I'm sure despite that ice-cold act she puts on, she depends on you just as much you depend on her."

Terra lamely nodded in agreeance. "I just wish I knew why I remember only her and not anything or anyone else."

"Don't look a gift chocobo in the mouth, Terra."

Don't look a gift…what? A stunned moment of silence passed before she could say, "I don't know what that is let alone know if I want to look it in the mouth."

Locke laughed. "Sorry. Old Kohlingen expression. It means you shouldn't question events that turned out in your favor. Just think, you could have woken up with no memories at all."

A thought she didn't want to think about yet found herself obsessing over. What if she hadn't remembered anything? She would have been alone and trusting of the first person she'd come across. If that person had been an Imperial instead of Celes… A shudder surfaced with the thought of what could have been.

When they came upon the tavern, they each went their separate ways with a wave, Locke to wait for the meeting and Terra into town to find either Celes or the two Figaro brothers. As she wandered, it amazed her how the people could live in such a harsh environment. The midmorning sun offered very little warmth in the bitter cold, forcing her to pull her cloak tighter. Everywhere she went slippery footpaths nearly sent her tumbling into piles of dirty soot covered snow. The smell of burning pine tickled her already cold-raw nose with sneezes and choked her breaths with coughs.

Most of the passersby this morning completely ignored her, the fact that she had nearly destroyed the town on more than one occasion forgotten. Of course, they only knew the potential destructor as a cat-like woman with lavender hair and emblazoned with a suit of fire, not a shivering green-haired girl hiding within a purple cloak. The incident on the mountain had been many things, but thank the gods it had changed her back to human.

She stopped at the bakery, the yeasty smell of deliciousness forcing her tummy to complain about a lack of breakfast and her mouth to water in desire. She watched with hungry eyes as the pretty shop clerk inside filled the glass case with donuts of various types and fillings, sausage rolls, pies of different meats and flavors, fruit loaves. Oh, how she wanted it all! But she had no gil in her purse. So far, everything had either been paid for by Edgar or Banon and, on this morning, neither were with her.

"Take care, Terra, or you will flood the bakery out of business!"

Startled out of her starvation trance, Terra whirled around and tried wiping away the drool that had collected on her chin and chest. Behind her, she found Edgar grinning with a knowing look in his eye. Of all the people to run into here! "Edgar!" she said with surprise.

He bowed at the waist and, after taking her hand in his, kissed the back of her fingers. "The one and only, King of Figaro, at your service."

She pulled her hand free and continued wiping the cold slime away from her chin. "What are you doing here?"

"Hunger is a dastardly thing, is it not?" he said proudly. "However, 'tis nothing a cruller and a coffee can fix."

Terra frowned with confusion. "What's a cruller?"

He took a moment to scrutinize her. "Surely, you have tasted a cruller before. They are quite the delicacy here in the Northern continents."

She shook her head and stared at the snowy ground with embarrassment. "I don't think I've had coffee before either."

This prompted laughter from Edgar. "Well," he said, "I shall have to rectify that! Come inside with me, my dear! The bakers here shall share their delights and send you to heaven!"

Terra followed him inside the little shop and sighed in content. The deliciousness of baked goods sweetened her battered nose, and the warmth of the ovens embraced her with their yeasty arms. It was such a cozy feeling that she had to fight off the urge to curl up and sleep in the corner. She did so by eying the different loaves of bread on racks behind the counter. There were at least thirty different kinds, and each one looked as tasty and fresh as the last. But the most important and tastiest bit had been the chest-high case before her—the same one she had seen the shop clerk fill with pies and sausage rolls. The closer she got, the more powerful and delicious the yeasty meaty smell became.

Dear gods… She wanted to devour everything in sight.

Her thoughts dissolved when the shop clerk presented her a bright smile and a sturdy paper cup filled to the brim with a hot frothy liquid; its smell an overpowering one of bitterness and dairy with a hint of nutmeg. "What's this?" she said with a sniff and a frown of confusion. It was an okay smell, not too unpleasant but not mind blowing either. The warmth provided to her hands was appreciated much more.

"Latte," Edgar said before taking a sip of his own. "A type of coffee. 'Tis one of my favorites."

Terra sniffed at it once more and this time detected vanilla buried deep underneath. People drank this? It smelled burnt with other pleasant aromas forcibly attached, like a science experiment gone wrong. She couldn't imagine drinking something that smelled like this every day, but then again, she hadn't tried it yet.

Edgar dangled a white paper bag in front of her and waggled his eyebrows at her. "Come, my dear. Let us walk and talk as we break our fasting."

She nodded and followed him out of the shop, sorrowfully leaving the wonderful aromas and warmth behind. Once outside, she finally worked up the courage to give her drink a taste test. For a start, it was hot, like Baldur's Gate, she-may-have-burned-her-bloody-tongue-type-of-hot. But it had flavor. Dear gods, did it have flavor. Yes, it was a tad bitter, but that was overshadowed by the sweetness of vanilla and the nuttiness of the nutmeg. And it filled her with warmth that she felt all the way down to her booted toes. Oh, yes, Terra liked!

Next came the cruller that Edgar handed her with a grin. This one, she wasted no time diving into. It was cakey and sweet and, Baldur's Gate, it complimented the latte so well that an orgy of flavors orgasmed on her tongue with every bite. Her knees went weak in pleasure and threatened to drop her to the cobbles. By the time they had made it to the end of the block, like the featherless and white chocobos of old, her pastry had gone extinct and her coffee endangered.

"I see someone had been hungry," Edgar said.

Terra gave him an embarrassed smile before hiding within her cloak. "I was," she said. "Thank you."

Edgar laughed. "Anytime," he said. "So, I assume since you are out and about that you have had your meeting with Banon."

She nodded. "He, um… He wants everyone to meet at the tavern."

"Ah! Splendid! Marching orders!" He extended his bent elbow in her direction. "May I walk you to our destination, my dear?"

"I still have to find Sabin and Celes," she said with a shake of her head. "Celes I have idea of where she might be, but Sabin…"

"Last I saw my brother, he was training in the town square. Do not worry about our dear Celes. I shall see to it that she attends." He winked. "I have the perfect hangover remedy to cure what ails her."

Terra frowned. "Do I want to know?"

Edgar walked off with a laugh and wave of the back of his hand. "Probably for the best you remain ignorant," he said. "We shall see you soon!" With that, he rounded the corner and was gone with a wisp of a wind-blown mist of snow.

Terra, perplexed, remained rooted in place. He was such an odd one, that King of Figaro. She took another sip of her drink to warm up and, with a confused frown, turned towards the town square.

It didn't take long to find Sabin. A turn here, a cross the street there, and there he was, as Edgar said. In fact, even a blinded person would have had no issues finding him what with his flipping all over the place, punching and kicking the air, and deafening battle cries. The large crowd of children watching him had stars in their eyes so bright that Terra wished she knew a blind spell to curb the glare. Or maybe that had been from the cloud of snow he was kicking up. Maybe it was both.

He flipped across the thoroughfare, backward and at such high speed that Terra thought he was going to bowl into her. She cringed with a squeal and felt the tiny stings of snowflakes striking her cheeks.

"Oh, hey, Terra," he said nonchalantly and right in front of her.

Terra looked out around the coffee cup she had used as a shield to find him grinning wildly half an arm's length away from her. It was the same grin that Edgar usually wore whenever he said something to tease Celes. "I thought you were going to hit me!" she said with exasperation.

He waved off her concerns. "If you had moved, probably. But I took a gamble that you'd freeze."

That bastard! He was teasing her! He was no better than his brother!

"Sorry, kids. Duty calls," he said to the group of children that had surrounded them. A chorus of groans prompted him to shrug his shoulders. "Don't worry. I'll be back with more before we leave for good!"

Terra smiled when the group of children cheered. She took Sabin's arm when he offered it, and let him lead them back towards the inn. And he could be a gentleman as well, much like his brother.

"Think I found the next generation of students," he said as they made their way across the cobblestones. "With Duncan gone, it's now up to me to pass the knowledge along."

"I think you'll be a fine teacher, hey," she said. "The children looked like they adore you." She paused. "Just don't scare the wits out of them like you did me."

"Monk's honor," he said with a grin and a mock salute. "So, I'm guessing that you've been sent to collect me so Banon can give us our marching orders."

Terra opened her mouth, but the words had escaped her. How…? Did he possess magic? She didn't feel anything radiating off him of that nature, but she hadn't felt any from Celes earlier either. Side effect of alcohol, perhaps? "How did you know that?"

Sabin laughed, either because she had made an unwitting joke or she bore an expression he found silly. "You told me," he said.

Once again, she tried hiding within her cloak. "But I haven't said anything yet."

"You didn't have to. This is the first time in three days I've seen you sober and the first ever without your usual shadow." He nodded to her arms. "And now that you've got some fancy bracers, I'll even go so far to guess that you've joined the Returners."

Shadow… Strange Banon had said the same thing. If anything, she would have categorized herself as the shadow since she was the one always hiding. She craned her neck to look Sabin in the eye. "Are you a mind reader?"

He said with a shrug, "Nah. I just know how to read people and situations, I think. Edgar says that I'm too perceptive for my own good." He laughed again, the upbeat demeanor infectious enough to cause Terra to do the same. "Speaking of, I can't say much on the Returners themselves, but you can trust my brother. I know he can be lecherous at times and a pervert behind his fancy talk, but his heart's always in the right place. Well…" He paused and looked deep in thought. "…most of the time. It does get buried behind his love of the female form."

Terra wondered if Edgar's heart was the reason Celes considered him a friend despite all the insults and teasing the two of them traded. That would also explain why he was so highly regarded here in a frozen land that he didn't even rule over.

Sabin continued, "Just, um, don't tell him I said any of that. He'll turn redder than a cactuar flower!"

Terra giggled at the thought of a crimson-faced sheepish-looking Edgar. How adorable! As tempting as it was saying something upon their arrival at the tavern, Sabin had asked nicely to keep his words a secret. She couldn't go against that. "Don't worry, Sabin! Mum's the word!"

Other than a beaming grin from Sabin, nothing else was said during their walk to the tavern. It had been surprising to learn, once they had pushed through those loud creaking doors, that Celes, Old Gravel, and FireBeard had at some point joined Locke and Edgar. The five of them were seated at a table in the corner along with other Returners Terra had never met before. Also present were the three Imperials they had taken prisoner, but they were in Returner uniforms? This was odd.

Even odder was the continued presence of a hazy smoke when no one was smoking. It was as if the very building permeated a smoky mist of bitter tobacco. Were other taverns in the world like this or was it just this one?

Sabin took a seat near Edgar while Terra made a beeline for the empty chair beside Celes. As she passed behind, she couldn't help but trail her fingertips across those slouching shoulders. She didn't really know why she had done it, but the flaring of red cheeks and the cracking of a stony glare made it all the worthwhile. "Still hungover?" she whispered as she slipped into her seat.

Celes said hoarsely, "Feels like I've got two feral monkeys bangin' arse inside my head."

"That's a pretty specific thing you've got going on in there," Locke said with a smirk and a lean forward. He briefly made eye contact with Terra and transformed the smirk into a full-fledged grin. "Care to elaborate on that?"

Based on the look of irritation that fell into place, Celes did not.

Banon coughed to gain the table's attention. Once all eyes were on him, he steepled his hands as he leaned forward. The look on his face was one of seriousness, but Terra couldn't focus on that. His long beard had bent at the table and found a resting spot under his hands like it was sleeping in a house. Poor little guy must have been wiped out after a tough day of being tugged and pulled!

"Ah, good," he said with a clearing of his throat. "We're all here. Edgar, I understand that you're requesting to return to Figaro Castle?"

Edgar flipped his braided hair tail over his shoulder with a nod. "Indeed," he said. "I can only trust the Chancellor in running the nation in my absence only for so long. I shan't want him to succumb to a nervous breakdown! Heavens forbid!" Both he and Sabin chuckled as if the funniest joke in the world had just gone off on a killing spree.

Terra didn't understand what was so funny. Locke was grinning as was Celes, which was a shock all on its own, but no one else. They must have been in on the joke. Or maybe they knew what a chancellor was.

"Very well," Banon said. "That actually works in our favor."

"How so?" Locke said from underneath an arching eyebrow.

Banon paused dramatically, taking the time to look every single person in the eye before settling on Terra and rumbling, "I have heard whispers of another esper."

Under the gasping table, Terra nervously wrung her hands. There was another esper? If that was true, she couldn't feel it. It was either far away, very good at hiding itself from detection, or overpowered by local sources Celes and Valigarmanda. Hopefully, it was the first one. She didn't want to be enthralled again. Once—no—twice was enough.

Locke muttered, "That doesn't really answer my question." He was soon shushed by Edgar.

"Where is it?" Celes demanded. "The Upeast Continent? The Backwest? Please don't say Downunder."^[1]

Terra stiffened in her chair. Downunder? That name sounded so familiar but brought nothing to the table. She had no idea where it or any of the other places were. Maybe it rang some bells because of the familiarity of the words 'down' and 'under.' Besides, they were all ridiculous names for places. What unimaginative person in their right mind would arrive at a location and say, "Right, lads! This place has a down and under sort of feel to it. Let's call it Downunder!"

Banon chuckled heartily at the increasingly panicked questioning. "Certainly not there, General," he said. "I'm not silly enough to take on the heart of the Empire. Not yet. This was an esper sighted in Zozo of all places."

Another silly name. Terra started to wonder if perhaps the entire world had been named by unimaginative children. What was next? A town called Castle in a land named Hyrule?

Edgar hummed and rubbed his chin as if lost in thought. "Very strange," he eventually said. "A Whozyer^[2] cannot be trusted any further than they can be thrown. I am genuinely surprised that you are following this up, Banon."

FireBeard tapped his fingertips against each other as he stared Edgar down through them. "After the discovery here in Narshe, I'm willing to look into anything no matter how unlikely it is," he said harshly. "Something dire will be happening soon. I can feel it. It is the only reason I can think of as to why espers are suddenly appearing again as well as Terra being the only one who can understand them."

Celes snorted as she brushed stray hair from her eyes. "I'm going out on a limb here to guess that you want someone to investigate."

Terra felt a hard frown spreading. She had a bad feeling that she already knew who that someone was going to be.

"Correct," Banon said with a nod.

Edgar leaned back in his chair with a flippant wave of his hand. "And now I see why my returning to Figaro is beneficial. Figaro Castle is at your service."

Terra looked around the table with the wide eyes of confusion. How was returning to Figaro beneficial? The castle town had been built in the middle of a desert. It had no port or water nearby. Had Edgar manufactured some sort of flying machine?

FireBeard continued, "Terra, I want you to go to Zozo, confirm the presence of an esper there, and if possible persuade them to join our cause in preserving peace."

Bollocks. She had been correct with her initial assumption; she did know who was being sent on the mission: her! She just hoped that Zozo wasn't quite as bad as Edgar had made it out to be.

"I'm not going by myself, am I?" she said to her lap. "I…don't know where Zozo is."

"I would not dare send you there by yourself. Zozo is…rather a silly place. Celes, Sabin, and Locke will accompany you."

Sabin cracked his knuckles with a snort and chuckle. "Hey, Locke, you're a thief, right? You should know the way there quite well."

Locke folded his arms across his chest and sank back in his chair with a scowl. "I'm a treasure hunter, muscles-for-brains," he snapped. "There's a major difference."

Arvis raised a hand and rattled the rocks in his throat to gain the table's attention. "And what of the esper here, Banon?" he said. "Who will be keeping watch over it?"

FireBeard leaned back in his chair and beamed a grin that was both reassuring and scary simultaneously. "I'll be leaving that in the hands of our newly formed Rebel Squadron," he said. "A group comprised of former Imperial MagiTek pilots Wedge Antilles, Biggs Darklighter, and Ziggy Stardust." Each soldier made a gesture as their name was spoken, ranging from a slight wave to a nod of the head.

Wedge crossed his arms behind the small of his back and said, "We'll be ready for action as soon as we can get our MagiTek armors up and running."

Terra looked back and forth between Wedge and Biggs, her suspicions running wild with the theory that she had seen the both of them somewhere before. Had they been soldiers that she had known before her amnesia had struck? She turned to Celes, who looked just as confused.

"Hey, I know you blokes," Celes said with a snap of her fingers. "You were the slum drunks we mugged in South Figaro!" She paused to stare at Ziggy. "Except you. Do I know you, mate?" He deflated as she spoke.

Biggs angrily smothered his face with his hand. "Great. First, it's 'Vicks,' and now it's 'slum drunk.' What's next?"

With eyes glued to Celes' chest, Ziggy said, "At least she's not kicking us in the boobs—Er, I mean, balls."

"Keep staring and I just might." Celes pointed to her face and growled, "Eyes up here, dickhead."

Wedge sighed. "Some things just never change."

Not much had changed in the caves since that game-changing night when welks had been fought, and green-haired girls had changed into fiery cats. Despite the Returners tinkering around with the abandoned and short-circuited MagiTek Armors, they were still standing guard over the positions they had been left. Like statues, but more deadly because lasers and part robot.

Wedge dug through the sparse tool box until he found what he had been searching for, an adjustable spanner. It was small compared to the size of the MagiTek Armors, but still large enough to do some serious damage if used as a two-handed melee weapon. He hefted the heavy thing onto his shoulder before addressing Vicks in the cockpit of his old mount. "Are you sure this is what you need?" he said.

"I dunno, sir," Vicks said. "Pass it up, and we'll find out."

Wedge did as requested and afterward leaned up against a cold metallic leg to await further instructions. So far, the repairs on the MagiTek Armors had been going by at a snail's pace. For a start, he and Biggs' weren't engineers nor did they know much about the MagiTek aspects of the machines.

Surprisingly, Ziggy had been studying to be an engineer before 'enlisting' into the Imperial army, which had come as a huge help in things. And Biggs had done some tinkering on MagiBikes in his spare time. All they could do was take a whack at fixing the issues before giving up and seeking help. He and Biggs started work on his armor while Ziggy tackled the experimental one that the Fire Witch had used.

"And if it's not?" Wedge said, questioning the other man's mechanical abilities. MagiBikes were one thing, but MagiTek Armor technology was a different beast altogether. "Do you even have any idea of what you're doing?"

"A vague idea, sir, but if I have to, I'll go the old tried and true method."

"Which is?"

"Bash on it 'til something happens."

Wedge snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. "Clever fellow," he muttered. This manner of flying by the seats of their pants would get them nowhere. If only some engineers had defected with them or had come up from Figaro. He looked up when a shadow fell over him.

Vicks was leaning over the cockpit seat with an irritated look. For a moment, he even looked as if he were going to start lobbing spanners. "Excuse me, sir," he snarked, "but I don't see you doing anything other than standing around like a pretty sheila giving it out on the street corner."

"I'm not an engineer," Wedge said pointedly, "nor am I a machinist. I'm a soldier, mate." He paused. "I'm not a moll, either."

Vicks snorted before disappearing and banging on something, probably harder than necessary. "Excuses, excuses, sir!" he said. "That's the kind of thing that General Chere would kick you in the balls and laugh in your face over."

How true was that? Wedge would be a rich man living it up in Jidoor if he'd been paid a gil for every time the general had cracked someone's balls for saying 'Not my job, mate.' However, what had applied in the past no longer applied in the present. "She's no longer our superior, Vicks. She doesn't command any power in the Returners."

Biggs once again popped his head over the edge of the cockpit. His smile was lit up like the MagiTek Research Facility at night, which was pretty god damned bright. "I know!" he exclaimed softly before squealing. "Isn't it great?! You know how liberating it was to stare down her huge rack and not worry about repercussions?"

"Wait… You did what?!" Wedge couldn't believe his ears. Vicks must have loved living life in the danger zone. Or perhaps he was some kind of masochist who enjoyed a good punishing. Maybe he had a death wish. "Please tell me that you realize she can still wipe the floor with your arse!"

"A rack like that only comes once every thirty years or so, sir, and is totally worth the punishment!"

"You're crazy."

"No, I'm Biggs, sir."

From across the cavern, Ziggy said, "So, when did the general start playing for the other team?"

"Other team?" Wedge said. "You mean when did she become a Returner?"

"I think Stardust wants to know when she became a lesbian, sir," Biggs said with a twinkle in his eye and the slightest of smirks.

"She practically shouted it down our throats every time some overzealous dickhead decided that he would be the one to 'tame' her," Wedge said.

"Every day during early morning calisthenics, sir!" Biggs said with a tad too much excitement.

"You would have been there with us, mate. How could you not know that?"

The wide-eyed Ziggy nodded with a frown and hesitated a moment before going back to his tangle of wires. "I initially served under General Leo, so I didn't know," he said lamely. "But seeing her practically glued at the hip to Kefka's Fire Witch has been quite an eye opener. What's her name anyway?"

"I dunno," Wedge said. "Is it Tina? Tanya?"

"I only know her as Fire Witch," Vicks said. "Feed her a couple of sandwiches, and I wouldn't mind watching her heat up the Ice Queen!"

His overly animated hand accidentally hit a lever on the control panel, knocking it out place. The MagiTek Armor geared to life with a thick mechanical whirring and a deep reverberating kuh-CHUNK. Before any reaction could commence, a MagiTek fire beam burst from its cannon, exploding the experimental Armor and vaporizing Ziggy in one fell swoop. The machine shuddered to a stop, filling the cavern with deafening silence and crackling fire.

"Ah, nuts!" Biggs said from above.

Wedge could only stare in shock at the burning remains of Ziggy Stardust and destroyed pieces of the Fire Witch's MagiTek Armor. "God dammit, Vicks!" he said with restraint. "We're supposed to be fixing these bloody things, not blowing them to kingdom come! And now we're short an engineer!"

"Our only engineer, sir."

"That's my point!"

"Sorry, sir," Vicks said. "My hand slipped, sir."

"And this is why focusing on tits always made General Chere so angry!"

"You're gay, aren't you?"

Wedge growled in frustration and, ignoring the questions called out to him, started the trek through the caverns back into town. Perhaps King Edgar would be willing to give them a hand before he left for Figaro. Hopefully, Vicks wouldn't accidentally kill him off like a single-serving character as well.

And so, the next morning, the group traveling to Figaro had found themselves, well, traveling to Figaro as travelers traveling to Figaro tend to do. But not by train. At one point in the history of trade between Figaro and Narshe, there had been a railway that ran between the two nations and back again, but it had been primarily a cargo train with not much room or many safe places for passengers. Why no passenger train? Simple. No Figarian would be caught dead in a backwater town like Narshe, and no Narshean dared to ever leave the familiarity of the humdrum of their little backwater town. And, even then, said cargo locomotive was now out of commission for repairs due to damage from fire, meteorites, and an exploding mountain.

Instead, at Edgar's insistence, they chose to go with chocobo steeds, the best mounts in the region that the Figaro taxpayers could afford. Hopes were high that this time around the Narshean killer rabbits wouldn't adorably attack and cutely eat their birds with a snowing of feathers, hailing of flesh, and raining of blood. Nobody wanted fear soiled underwear either.

It would be several days before they reached their destination. This time, Terra made it a point to take in her surroundings as much as she could. The majestic mountains caught her eye as did the brooks and their nonsensical babbling. The fantastic forests stood tall for fantastic things while the green and gilded grasses waved greetings and goodbyes. The beautifully blue sky shoved its clouds aside to let the sun shine on a celestial Celes as she sang her heart out.

At Terra's request to pass the time, the abnormally timid Celes belted out a tune she had referred to as 'Landslide.'^[3] It was a hauntingly beautiful Tzen folk song about a woman lamenting the choices she had made in life, musing about her failing relationship (or lack thereof), and questioning her ability to handle the changes associated with such things. All that was missing was someone with a guitar.

Inside her mind, away from the prying eyes of the rest of the group, Terra giggled in excitement and clapped her astral hands. Celes had the singing voice of the angel, but something was off compared to the drunken warbling from the other day. With this song, she sounded almost like a humanoid goat – pitch slightly flat, vibrato galore, unnecessarily breathy. But it fit like the shortcomings had all banded together to create beauty. And Terra couldn't help but feel that the subject material was relevant to her, much like the last song Celes had sung, but she couldn't put her finger on how.

Edgar became misty-eyed with tears and gave his approval with a silent nod. Both Locke and Sabin voiced their approvals as well. Terra's face had turned hot, and that sabotaged her ability to look at anything other than the back of her chocobo's head when the song ended. She wanted to look Celes in her pretty blue eyes and thank her for this precious gift, but…couldn't. Edgar would mercilessly and unendingly tease them. She knew he would! Probably something about the fairer sex needing to get a room or whatever.

Celes later admitted that she only sang when drunk or alone, when her inhibitions were low. Singing sober in front of people made her nervous and prone to mistakes. Discovering this made Terra tense in her saddle. She had asked for a song, and despite being out of her comfort zone, Celes had delivered. This made it an even greater gift than Terra could have imagined. If she hadn't been on a chocobo, she would have collapsed to the ground from weakening knees.

When the group had stopped for a brief lunch and a rest, Terra pulled Celes into a tree-shaded area away from prying eyes and teasing kings. There she hugged her as tightly as she could. She didn't want to let go. She wanted to hold on for all eternity if she could, all because she felt like she was on the verge of drowning in her emotions.

As she clung to Celes, the woods turned hazy, her heart raced against no one, and her breath refused capture. She had felt this before on that night into Narshe. Even alcohol had produced similar effects. But there was something deeper, something farther back in the past that she couldn't grab ahold of, something that continuously slipped through her fingers.

Was this the same feeling Celes had sung about? Was this the same emotion that had prevented her from talking about the 'one that disappeared?' Was this what Locke had lost and warned Terra to protect? Was this love she was feeling? Was this what she had been searching for? Or was this a dream? She wanted to ask the sky, but that was a silly notion. The sky couldn't talk nor would it ever give her the answers she sought.

Terra gently pinned Celes to a tree and planted a kiss on her cheek that soon grew into many, one after another until her lips had gone numb and her breath had depleted to nothing. At the time, she hadn't known what had possessed her to do such a thing, but doing so had opened a set of emotional floodgates, allowing Locke's earlier advice to resurface. Something had to be said.

Celes, who had been standing stiff as a red-faced statue, muttered an excuse to return to camp. This, in turn, prompted Terra to hold her tighter in place. If they were heading into dangerous territory, she didn't have the strength to suffer the same fate that Locke had. She wouldn't be able to continue on with life as Celes had done.

This close to Celes, about to admit the things that she was, made Terra feel like she was swimming in a pool of warm molasses. Her head felt numb, mouth dry, limbs heavy. She collapsed into her and lost herself in those lovely stoic blue eyes. "I want you to know just how much you mean to me," she said, her voice hushed and cracked. She hesitated before cementing the sentiment with a stolen kiss on tightly pressed lips. The thrill of it was addicting, intoxicating, leaving her wanting more. "Though my memories have lost their meaning, there is no one compared to you. Without you, I'd be lost until I died of a broken heart."

The broadsided Celes responded not with words, but a meek grin, the touching of foreheads, and a hug in return. It hadn't been what Terra had wanted, but she accepted it regardless.

When they rejoined the rest of the group, they carried on towards Figaro like nothing had happened. However, there had been one tell, one clue to clue them all if they had bothered to look. Terra had seen it, and it had burst her heart open with joy.

For the rest of the day, Celes' cheeks never lost their blazoning glow nor her lips the small cracks of a smile.

Terra sighed a frustrated sigh and launched the blanket off with an equally frustrated kick. She couldn't sleep because of a build-up of pressure in her head, heart, and belly. It was annoying and wouldn't let her think of anything but the day's events she had shared with Celes. They replayed in her head endlessly on a loop, making her uncomfortable in this hot and stuffy tent.

There didn't seem to be any relief in sight, despite biting her lip and her attempts to rub the frustrations away. On the bright side, all of this thinking and rethinking eventually produced a memory, one from who she used to be and not who she was. It had been a pleasant memory (at least what she could remember), and one that had been similar to the events of today.

Today hadn't been the first time she and Celes had shared a kiss and neither had it been that night going into Narshe. It had been that distant night in the past that felt as if she were watching Celes kiss someone who looked like her. The emotions had been powerful, cutting through the fog like the afternoon sun.

While Terra still didn't understand when or where these feelings had initially come from in the past, she finally understood why Celes had been the only person she remembered. She finally understood why she'd been having conflicting thoughts about her from the very beginning and why they made her hands do things on their own accord when she was alone.

As she gasped for air, she wondered if perhaps she had been that girl in the past that Celes refused to talk about. If only she could be certain about it. If only she had no doubts. If only she knew the answers. If only Celes were here to reassure her. If only Celes were nearby. If only Celes were--

Like a silent, tearful landslide, it all came crashing down. Terra tensed in her bedroll and shivered as it melted away. The rapidly dropping temperature prompted her to cover back up. Despite the ache, she pretended that her hands belonged to another, a special someone who enjoyed touching her in places they shouldn't. She understood her feelings now and happily sighed as she caressed herself into a drowsy relaxation.

Would she have the courage to admit how she felt? Would she be able to say that she was in love? There was only one way to find out.

^[1] Upeast, Backwest, and Downunder are the three names given to the two major continents of the world.

Upeast, the easternmost half of the northern continent, houses the Doman ruins, the desolate Veldt plains lands, and the small country town of Mobliz.

Backwest encompasses the civilized western half of the northern continent. The nation of Figaro and its satellites Kohlingen, South Figaro, and Narshe can be found there as well as city-states Jidoor—the theatrical town of uptight assholes, Nikeah—the port town this story forgot, and Zozo—the "city of sunshine."

Downunder contains such shining jewels as Maranda—Crumbling City Under Martial Law, Albrook—Another Crumbling City Also Under Martial Law, Tzen—Former City of Kings (Crumbling Under New Management), and Vector—dank home of the Empire.

There's also a small forgotten town called Thamasa mixed in there somewhere, but rarely does anybody care. If the towns and cities of the world were school children, Thamasa is that brooding kid that always sits in the back of the bus, is largely ignored by the other towns and the bus driver, and is generally chosen last for group games in physical education class. Of course, when one just stands in one spot and lets the dodgeballs hit them, this is not surprising.

Also, people in Thamasa get off on burning buildings to the ground in the middle of the night. Be wary if passing through. ^[return]

^[2] Nobody knows why people from Zozo have the nickname of Whozyers. The joke in Jidoor is that the term is a bastardization of "Who's yer daddy?" – a common greeting in Whozyerian courtship. Why "whozyer daddy?" No one wants to start a new relationship without first ruling out a surprise sibling, even in Zozo where other worse taboos are generally accepted. ^[return]

^[3] A song made famous by a band of minstrels who call themselves the Fleetwood Macs. Terra would find out later that this was the only record that Celes owned besides the entirety of The Dream Oath. ^[return]

Chapter Text

For the sixth time in the last two days, Edgar urged his chocobo to the top of a giant sand dune. For the sixth time, he turned around with a grin, pointed a finger off in the direction of the wide-open desert, and called back, "Figaro!"

For the third time, Sabin joined his brother at the top of said dune. For the first, he gleefully shouted back, "Figaro!"

For the first time, Locke scrambled up the dune and cackled excitedly before exclaiming, "Figaro!"

Celes sighed in frustration before grumbling, "It's not a mirage this time, is it?"

A sandstorm had snuck up on them halfway through the desert, which had thrown off Edgar's sense of direction. Pretty bad for someone who had claimed that he was one with the desert. And because they hadn't planned for the extra time wandering under the sweltering sun, their food and water rations had run dangerously low. Also, sand had gotten into their clothing, stuck uncomfortably to their sweat wet skin, and in general just moved in anywhere it could like an annoying cousin of a friend's friend's roommate. It was irritating, painful, and invasively unpleasant.

Upon seeing the uninterested, borderline angry expression on Celes' face, Terra drooped into her chocobo. This was the sixth time someone had spotted a Figaro Castle. Hopefully, it would be the last. "A mirage? I bloody well hope not," she mumbled before wiping her eyes clear of sweat. "I'm thirsty."

There was no doubt that they all were; she could see it in their faces. Celes especially had a frizzled, dried-out, exhausted appearance. The moment they had run out of water, she had taken to drawing ice from the arid atmosphere which eventually had taxed her magic dry. The only reason she hadn't collapsed from over-exertion yet was that of sheer willpower, at least that's what Terra suspected.

Edgar let out a shrill whistle as he waved from the top of the dune with the over-exaggeration of a loon. A moment later, a piercing echo echoed back to them. This had been the routine every time a 'Figaro Castle' had appeared, although Terra had to admit that this was the first time they had heard a response from a mirage.

So, that probably meant that it was…real?!

"Bravo Figaro!" Edgar cried with laughter and a fist pump in the air. He spurred his tired chocobo into a sprint down the dune and out of sight. "Come along, everyone!"

"I'm going to dunk my head into the first pool of water I find!" Locke exclaimed. He and Sabin followed Edgar's suit with equal excitement.

"So, the chocobo troughs, then?" Sabin said with a teasing laugh.

"If that's what it takes, then, damn it, that's what it takes!"

Terra looked to Celes to see if they should follow the boys with the same reckless abandon. Instead, the response she got was a tired, indifferent shrug and a chocobo galloping forward at a leisurely pace. Well, if Celes wasn't going to be excited, she was!

Terra cracked the reigns and flew across the sand at breakneck speed. The closer she got to the castle, the more she had to slow her pace and crane her neck to gawk at it. The walls and the spires were so tall! Steam spilled out of the tops like rolling thunderheads or thick vertical fogbanks. Everything was a fusion of stoneworks and machines blended so well together that she couldn't tell where one technology ended and the other began.

"Wow!" she muttered under her breath. It was all so amazing! She had missed out on Figaro because of stupid Kefka clown face. This time she was going to make sure that she saw everything the castle town had to offer and explore it to the max! No one-night stands this time around!

"If you think my castle appears astonishing on the outside," Edgar said with a raised finger and a wide smile, "then just wait 'til you experience the inside."

Terra bounced excitedly in her saddle. "There's more besides delicious food and soft beds?!"

Edgar laughed. "I would certainly hope so!" he said.

She ignored his continued monologue about Figaro's greatness and imagined herself already there in the center of town. Pubs with delectable food and drink would litter the streets along with various markets selling wares so exquisite that to buy anything at a decent price one would have to know the Royal Family personally. Hawkers, barkers, guys wearing advertising sandwich boards, and curvaceous golden-skinned girls in the tiniest of bikinis would entice a weary traveler, i.e. her, to become a weary customer. And she'd enjoy every second of it.

She could smell the mouthwatering bacon cooking in the pubs and taste the crisp, refreshing sweet bitterness of the local sarsaparilla. She'd eat and drink her fill, and then some, before waddling into the markets. There, she'd find torches powered by neither flame or magic, record players that played music without the need of records, sparkling jewelry of gold, silver, and various gemstones, as well as a version of the Empire's Magibike that used something called gasoline as a fuel. But what really had her excited was the most extensive library in the known northern hemisphere. To think of all the books she could read!

From behind, Celes said flatly, "You forgot to mention the mysterious basement."

Edgar laughed. "A place you shall see in due time, my dear. Until we are ready, you should sample everything the Grand Figarian baths have to offer!"

"Baths?!" Terra said with a perky swoon. "I so could go for one right about now, hey!"

"Then do so, my dear," Edgar said with a wink and a grin. "I shall even have my handmaidens escort you to the prestigious Royal Baths."

Celes snorted. "Yeah, totally not falling for that one again," she said with a hint of ice. "Bloody pervert tried spying on me last time I was here."

"I see you haven't changed, brother," Sabin said with a sigh and a shake of his head.

Edgar's expression fell, and his coloring turned bright red, bright enough to make Terra giggle. "My dear Sabin," he said, "I shall assure you, as I had Celes on that day, that my peeking had been purely for the purpose of science." He took a deep breath and puffed out his chest as if he were proud of either the moment, the excuse, or both. Sabin rolled his eyes with a smirk while both Celes and Locke groaned.

Terra looked between the three of them, puzzled, before leaning closer to Celes. "What's science have to do with you in a bath?" she said.

"Don't ask," was the terse reply.

Don't ask? But she already had? Terra cocked her head to the side and tried to out-smart this odd brain teaser. It didn't make any sense. Celes wasn't exactly the scientific type. She was more the type to punch first and ask questions later; neither of those had anything to do with bathing. Although, if Celes were wearing nothing but soap suds while in a steamy pool and beckoning her to join with a sultry 'come hither' gesture, she'd want to study everything with a keen eye as well!

Terra fanned her burning cheeks and tried to stifle her nervous giggling. "Oh, my," she said, "I didn't realize medical science was so interesting."

Edgar sent a wink in her direction. "I see I am not alone in my belief!"

Celes turned bright red, though that could have been sunburn, and tried hiding between her shoulders. "Baldur's Gate, Terra," she muttered, "Don't encourage him."

Terra could only respond with an embarrassed grin and a meek apology.

The sky mourned the loss of the sun as it did every night. Terra, on the other hand, was quite happy to watch it slide behind the faraway sand dunes. Bastard sun was hotter than bollocks in a frying pan here in the desert, but with sunset on the horizon, the air was becoming cool enough to entice nipples to come out to play. She rubbed the chocoboflesh forming on her exposed upper arms and marveled at seeing her breath when she sighed.

It was like Narshe, but not bitterly cold and snowy or dull as rocks. Figaro Castle Town was undoubtedly where the cool cats partied. Terra leaned over the wall and gazed down at the markets below, way far below. The tiny brightly dressed people scurried about like worker ants, buying this, trading that, gossiping like nosy mother hens despite nighttime rushing in to fill daylight's void. A fall from this height would be fatal enough to liquefy someone and to land on one of those sharp-tipped market tents wouldn't be too pleasant either.

Music from the nearby pub thrashed the already noisy atmosphere until it was just an absolute unrecognizable mess. Luckily, they were up high enough to render that eardrum torture to just a slight annoyance. Like the tavern in Narshe, smoke spilled out from under its doors and the cracks in its window panes, further cementing her belief that a smoky ambiance was an unwritten law of the land.

Throughout the castle town, lights flickered into being much like the stars in the sky. If Terra squinted hard enough, they had the appearance of fireflies dancing around a sandstone urban jungle. It was a beautiful sight from atop the castle's spires and one she couldn't stop looking at.

"Figaro is amazing," she said after another sigh of content. From beside her, she caught a snort of amusement so slight that the noisy tavern had almost buried it. A lifted eyebrow marked her curiosity as she turned her head. "You don't think so?"

Celes was leaning nonchalantly against the stone railing, facing behind them. Her crossed arms and bored expression told everything there was to know. "I used to," she said. "It's just that I've been stationed here so much that the novelty wore off right quick."

Terra showed her understanding with a half-hearted nod and lapsed into silence. Fascinated by the sunset, she continued watching until the earth hungrily ate the big red ball, leaving only a few scraps of pink and orange on its dark plate. And now that it was gone, its absence left her feeling unfulfilled.

Celes interrupted the silence. She said, "Edgar once told me that the sky going dark at sunset is our world casting a shadow onto itself. I wonder if that's true?"

Terra turned on the railing to take in what Celes was seeing and mirrored the closed-off posture. From this position, nothing looked too different other than a much darker sky. She said, "It's beautiful regardless of how it happens." She then poked Celes in the arm. "I think you think too much."

Celes laughed before quickly returning to her maudlin state. "I do not think too much."

Grinning broadly, Terra leaned against Celes' shoulder and looked up at her from the tops of her eyes. "I think you do."

"I think you're wrong, hey."

"I'm not wrong. I'm Terra." A moment of silence passed as she waited for a reaction. When it came, she felt somewhat cheated as Celes hadn't responded in either the shocked or angry ways she had expected. However, being pulled into a loose hug was just as good. If only it could be tighter…

"Silly bugger," Celes said with a hint of a chuckle. "You need to do something about that smart arse of yours."

The two of them again fell into silence. Terra used the advantage to bury herself further into Celes' shoulder. It was a place in the world she could feel safe. "I like it here," she said shattering the quiet.

"Well, then, once you've finished your tour with the Returners you should retire here. I'm sure Edgar'll be more than happy to grant you citizenship, hey."

Sure, Figaro was an exciting place. Sure, Edgar treated his subjects with dignity and compassion, at least that she had seen. Sure, Figaro had a new amazing technology called 'air-conditioning,' but leave it to Celes to fail entirely in understanding the true meaning of her words. Terra shook her head. "That wasn't quite what I meant, but I like that too."

"Then what did you mean?"

Terra poked Celes' nose and watched with amusement as her eyes crossed. "Do I really need to spell it out for you?" she said in a teasing whisper before shyly tracing heart shapes in the center of the exposed part of Celes' chest. She had never seen those cheeks turn a darker shade of red. So adorable! "I mean, I guess I can if I have to. But you'll have to sing for me again."

The next thing Terra knew, she had reeled several paces backward and nearly fell to the cobbles. Celes, looking like she was caught somewhere between angry and panicking, shrilly growled, "Up here?! You know how far my voice will carry up here? People will hear!"

"So?" Terra countered as she brushed herself off and straightened her dress. "You had no issues singing for us on the way here."

"Right! We had been fifty miles south of bum-fuck nowhere! I'm…" Celes paused to catch her breath with the look of someone who had watched it slip through her fingers. "I'm not singing where an entire bloody city can hear me!"

Terra closed the gap between them and offered reassuring hands on tense shoulders. "If anyone complains, we can just blame it on the tavern." On her tiptoes, she leaned closer with a giggle and whispered, "Or maybe you have stage fright."

Celes' eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, and her face turned a sickly shade of pale. Aww, she was so adorable when teased. "I don't have stage fright," she said with defiance of a scared cat.

"I call shenanigans."

Celes huffed. "You can call it whatever you want, mate."

"You're a killjoy, you know."

"Still not happening. Get me drunk and I might reconsider."

Grinning broadly, Terra tapped Celes on her thin, taut lips. "Well," she said, "I guess I'll have to do that. Might I buy a lady a drink?"

The fear in Celes' eyes subsided and melted into a look of amusement. "You might," she said. "But you still won't get your way."

Terra took Celes by the hand to lead her back toward the stairs. "Well, we'll just have to see about that."

Morning arrived like a marching band in a library, unnecessarily and obnoxiously loud. The first sense to return had been the general awareness of being alive, followed shortly after that by a pain in the head and a cold discomfort on the face. The lack of feeling and mobility in the arms came next. Last to filter in was the awareness of who and where she was.

Terra groggily tried her hand at sitting up to separate herself from her drool-soaked pillow. The effort, proving futile with malfunctioning arms, only led to a painful faceplant on the floor. She groaned and lamented the pins and needles, the headache right behind her eyes, and the thick coat of cold drool/slime on her face. And now her jaw hurt. Fantastic!

An unladylike belch made itself known to remind her of last night's alcoholic binge. Needless to say, it was not as good coming up as it had been going down. And, Baldur's Gate, did that horrible yeasty taste linger.

"How much did I drink last night?" she muttered, not only to alert anyone present that she was awake (in case the fall hadn't done so already) but because she was hoping for an answer. She barely remembered many of the details from the night before. If this was a hangover, then it could rightly piss off.

Once feeling returned to her arms, Terra used the bed to bring her wobbly self up onto her wobbly feet. She tugged off her nightshirt and used it to wipe her drool-slimed face clear. The chilly air caressing her now half-naked body sent a shiver up her spine and cleared some of the alcoholic fog in her head. A quick look revealed that she was alone in the room, different from the one she and Celes had stayed in previously but just as stately. Differences included an ensuite bathroom and thick metallic roller shutters over the windows.

Oooh… A shower. That was just what she needed! Time was not wasted in shedding the rest of her clothing and washing away the remaining sluggishness of drowsiness.

Despite allowing her mind free range to wander, it didn't stray far. She had become aware of a buzzing, very similar to what she had felt in Narshe. Like with Valigarmanda, she was unable to pinpoint where it was in relation to her, only that it was there. Fear of being controlled again gripped her tightly and nearly squeezed out tears. She didn't want to go on a killing spree.

Stupid magic powers made her life more of a hindrance than anything else. She wanted a life of perpetual boredom like what everyone else had. Why did she have to be different? Why did she have a power that people wanted to control? Yes, instant fire and advanced healing certainly made life easier in some respects, but if losing those abilities meant the jerks of the world left her the hell alone then she'd gladly part ways with them. But unfortunately, that magic was a part of her just as much as any part of her body. This, of course, meant that she'd be a target as long as she lived. And if the inevitable happened, Celes would save her as long as she had life in her bones.

And if Celes weren't around? If Celes died in the line of duty, leaving her alone, who would save her then? It was easy to act nonchalant about such things, but the fear of the high probability was very real and always underlying.

Speaking of, where had Celes gone this morning? She wasn't exactly known for rising and shining so early, especially after a night of drinking. Had Edgar needed her for something? Had she gone to get breakfast? A grumble in Terra's stomach told her that she needed to follow suit and soon. Bacon, eggs, and pancakes… Yes, please! She wanted it all!

Once the water had been shut off and silenced, Terra became aware of a faint whirring in the air along with what sounded like popcorn, if said snack was actually bedrock crushed by sharp, fast moving blades. She grabbed a nearby towel and scrubbed her face and hair as dry as she could. When Edgar had said that Figaro Castle was going to ferry them to Kohlingen, she had figured that he'd hire a boat to take them across the Nibelheim Sea not burrow the entire castle and its town underground. The things they had here were mind-boggling and just amazing!

She stepped out of the shower, nearly slipping in the process, and made her way back into the bedroom. Once she reached the mirror, she let the towel fall to the floor and studied the reflection she found there. It had been nearly two weeks since her first gaze at this reflection, and she still couldn't believe that what she saw was her. At least it was no longer a scary monster. It now belonged to an extremely petite, sad-looking girl who looked as if life had been rough for her.

She had scars everywhere, from her shoulders to her legs, from the front to the back. As she fingered the rough texture of one on her left breast, she wondered: What were the meanings behind them? Why were they there? Had she always had them? Were they the result of being controlled by the Empire? Something else? Had she previously picked fights at the drop of a hat and not healed afterward? Did she like it rough in bed and not healed afterward? For the life of her, she couldn't remember. But despite the curiosity, the mystery was probably a blessing in disguise.

Unfortunately, a closer inspection in the mirror revealed that she was changing once again. She wondered if her general proximity to espers affected her in some strange way, like a kid with a peanut allergy. Her teeth were once again abnormally pointed with one choosing to expose itself from over top her bottom lip. Streaks of lavender ran through her wild, damp hair. She knew what this meant; it was only a matter of time before she was a walking, talking cat once more. So much for the theory that it had been Valigarmanda behind the transformation.

Before Terra could shake herself of negative thoughts, she discovered a note on the nearby vanity table. Good morning, sweetheart, it read in Celes' curly-Q handwriting, possibly the only thing about her besides her choice of undergarments that screamed feminine. Join me in the training room down the hall once you're dressed. – Celes

Training? This time of the morning? It was time for food, not mock fighting! She was half-tempted to give it a miss, but the idea of disappointing Celes once again gnawed at her worse than her growling tummy. With a sigh, she dressed and accepted that her fate was more than likely a breakfastless one.

After initially getting lost, wasting an hour, and resorting to directions from a guard, Terra finally found the training room – the sad part being that she had passed this room at least three or four times. She recognized the watercolors of a lush flower garden surrounding a serene pond painted on the sliding paper doors, an out-of-place rarity in this palace of cold stone and sterile metal.

Upon entering the room, she found Celes, with her eyes closed, in the center of the padded floor cross-legged and motionless. At the back of the room stood a wall filled with more wooden replicas of weapons than Terra had ever seen. Katana, wakizashi short swords, two-handed broadswords, all manner of staves, and even maces, they were all there, woodgrain and everything. The collection was impressive and ridiculous at the same time.

Terra considered announcing her arrival but thought better of it. The atmosphere in the room was peaceful and relaxed, not exactly something she wanted to disturb. She quietly closed the door behind her and plopped down next to Celes, mirroring her meditative posture.

Minutes of silence followed, or maybe it had been hours—time skewed horribly around boredom's event horizon, and Terra's mind once again wandered. She kept having visions of Celes on a table in front of her, naked and covered with strategically placed dollops of cream and questionable fruits. Sometimes it was honey. Other times it was syrup and spoonfuls of butter. Occasionally, she was an actual stack of pancakes begging to be eaten. If Terra hadn't known any better, she'd have said that she had several psychological issues. But her tummy rumbling reminded her that she was just hungry and, as she was learning, in more ways than just one.

"I was wondering when you'd show up."

Terra opened her eyes, surprised at the sudden breaking of silence, and sheepishly grinned. "I got lost," she said.

Celes laughed and gave her a look that would be best described as 'not surprised.' "Our room is five doors down," she said with an amused smirk. "How could you get lost?"

"I'm hungry," Terra said with an exaggerated whine. "And tired. And hungover." She also craved Celes' touch, anywhere and everywhere. Although, advertising that probably wouldn't be a very good idea. "What are we doing here?"

Celes stood and offered a hand to help Terra to her feet. "We've got another day or two before we reach Kohlingen," she said. "As much as I'd like to spend it drunk off me arse, we're on a mission and gods only know what could happen." That couldn't be argued with. "Besides, it's difficult to drink guilt-free when taxpayers are footing the bill. Y'know?" That, also, couldn't be argued with.

"So… Practice to pass the time?"

Celes nodded before procuring two wooden katana from the wall behind her and tossing them. "Bet you can't knock me down," she said with a lecherous grin.

Terra caught the airborne weapons, one in each hand, and stared at them in disappointment. They were definitely katana, her preferred weapon of choice, only without the damage capacity. The grip was smooth and the blade as dull as an accountant under a wet blanket. Only bruises coming from these things.

She doubled over when her stomach demanded her attention with a painful annoyed grumble. "I don't want to practice," she said sourly. "I'm hungry." She had smelled the wonderful smells coming from the banquet room as she had wandered the hallways. The temptation to just throw down and leave was very real, guilt be damned.

"You don't always get to fight in ideal conditions, Terra." Celes pulled down a large two-handed sword and gave it a few practice swings. "There may come a time where we're tired, hungry, injured, or thousands of miles away from safety. Maybe all at the same time."

"But that'll be then. This is now. I'm hungry now."

The irritated glare Terra received was enough to make her feel two inches tall. But the feeling of disappointment shifted to surprise when Celes came at her, without warning and at full force, with a blow aimed at her head. Reflexively, the twin bokken sprung into defensive positions and prevented an addition to her already distracting headache.

Celes grunted. "Enemies aren't going to wait for you to eat breakfast, sweetheart!" she said as she doubled down on the brute force. "They're going to use every dirty trick in the book to win!"

With panic setting in, Terra forced her trembling arms to remain rigid and hold back the oncoming attack. Either she hadn't recovered from sleeping on said arms for a majority of the night or Celes was stronger than she appeared. Both were probable; maybe it was both. Before her strength gave out, she released her hold on the attack and stepped to the side.

Celes stumbled forward with a squeal and a solid thud but was quick with a twirling handspring back to her feet. To Terra's disappointment, she readjusted her tank top before a wardrobe malfunction happened and reset her stance. The unamused expression had returned, but only just; her eyes betrayed her amusement. "Let's make this interesting," she said. "Winner can make the loser do whatever they want for the day."

They were betting servitude? "What are we? Five?" Terra said with sarcasm as she single-handedly twirled her left-handed weapon like a hand on a clock face. The move proved beneficial. She halted its movement upside down in her hand to brace it against her arm. This was crucial in adding strength to the blocking of another overhead attack.

Celes snorted. "I'd put money on the table, but…"

Terra shoved Celes away with her left and went for a piercing stab with her right. It was her turn to be unamused. Her target merely stepped to the side and mockingly brushed the hair from her eyes.

"It's more fun to wager ourselves, don't you think?"

"Fine," Terra muttered shortly, "though I'd rather bacon." It was coming. Another attack and more than likely from above. She brought her sword protected arm up over her head once again, the move proving her instincts right. Damn this bacon blocking bitch! "Rules?" She didn't bother waiting for a response before shoving Celes away once more. She rushed in and delivered a pommel strike to a well-toned stomach.

The attack had been sudden and hard enough that Celes took several steps back as a coughing fit ensued. "I'm not kissing Edgar," she hoarsely said with a wheeze.

Terra snickered before throwing all her weight into a spin attack. However, Celes decided that she had other ideas and had gone on the defensive. Terra's weapons cracked to a halt on the larger one. She smirked and said, "Aw, that's no fun."

Celes removed the hair from her eyes, this time with a puff of breath and a quick flick of her head. "You're free to kiss him all you want, mate. Knock yourself out, hey."

A flameless light switched on in Terra's head. An idea! And one that could net her a victory! She moved in with another attack, this one purposefully intended to be a decoy. She had to get as close to Celes as possible for this to work effectively. Barely above a whisper, she said with lascivious intent, "I'd rather kiss you."

Celes' eyes widened in shock and her defense visibly weakened. "What did you just say?"

Terra leaned closer and mouthed, "Kiss you. All. Over." She then winked and blew a kiss. She hadn't lied, but it was proving to a be a useful tactic. She'd never be able to overpower the now beet-red Celes with brute force alone, but with this little bit interference, she could accomplish much. The distraction was all she needed to throw out a kick into a soft abdominal side.

Celes tumbled to the ground with a cry and quickly rolled away. "Oi! What the hell, lady?!" She flipped to her feet and returned to her full height. "That's cheating, hey!" Unfortunately, the movement caused one side of her to pop out of her tank top. And she hadn't noticed. She was too busy filling her eyes with metaphorical fire. Clearly, she didn't like losing. And clearly, she wasn't wearing any kind of upper body support.

Terra couldn't help herself. Like a giddy schoolboy, she zeroed in on the wardrobe malfunction and stared stupidly as if she had never seen such things before.

Celes charged headlong with a leap, all the while growling like a woman possessed. She struck quickly and in multitudes with such ferocity that Terra couldn't keep up. No one with a weapon that size should be able to attack that fast. It also didn't help that she was horribly distracted by bouncy perversions of the flesh.

First, it was a whack on the arm. Then, it was a slap on the leg. Finally, tripping over her own feet proved to be Terra's undoing. She fell hard to her bottom and lost her weapons in the process. Within a split second of landing, the tip of Celes' wooden staff stopped at the tip of her nose. Terra focused on it before being drawn to what was behind it. And what she found brought a grin to life. Both sides of Celes were now free, and it was a beautiful sight. She wanted to bury her face there and curl into a sleepy ball.

"Stop grinning," Celes said sternly. "I win."

Terra risked a glance up a Celes' face. She disregarded the smug expression and returned her gaze to the greatest pair of any things she had ever seen. Matter-of-factly she said, "Your boobs are showing." Another look up, found Celes' expression falling into shock. This was what Terra needed. She swiftly kicked the weapon away before tackling her adversary to the floor.

They rolled across the room, with cries of foul language (mostly from Celes), and fought for dominance over the other. Punches were thrown. Groins were kneed. Wardrobes malfunctioned further; Terra's dress bunched up and twisted around her stomach.

Eventually, they came to a stop with Terra on top pinning Celes by the arms and the waist. The two of them stared each other down as their chests heaved from breaths that had been knocked free. Celes looked around her exposed breasts before returning her gaze back to Terra. "Nice knickers. Green suits you," she said.

Terra scoffed with amusement and stared Celes right in the nipples. "Nice boobies," she said with a giggle. "Braless suits you."

Celes scoffed and doubled down on her glare. "No, it doesn't. And you cheated."

"You chose this on your own, hey."

"No, you threw up on me and my only bra last night."

"Did I?" Terra's grin fell to a frown. She didn't remember doing that. Had she drunk that much rum and sarsaparilla? "Sorry, but how's that cheating?"

"Premeditative drinking."

"Uh huh. Tell that to the Empire. I'm sure they'll give you a do-over in South Figaro."

"Oh, sure. Just kick me while I'm down and exposed. Real classy, Terra. And let me up, please, before I suffocate under these damn milk balloons."

Terra chuckled as she returned to her feet and fixed her dress. "You said it yourself, hey," she said, arm extended to help Celes up. "People're gonna use dirty tricks to win. And I wanted to win."

Celes stood and readjusted herself, all the while maintaining that unamused stony expression. It wasn't long before it cracked with laughter. "You're a bloody bitch," she said between chuckles.

"Don't come between me and breakfast." Terra stood on her tiptoes to touch nose to nose. "But I think you're just jealous that you have to do anything I want for the rest of the day." The possibilities were endless, and she could use this opportunity to get some answers to some burning questions.

"I knew talking out me arse would come back to bite me." Celes sighed, obviously defeated and accepting of her fate. "What do you want me to do?"

Terra's bravado suddenly left her. She took a step back and tried hiding between her shoulders. Comfort was found in rubbing her upper arm. She wanted to be held. She wanted to be caressed. She wanted honesty and the avoidance of specific topics, namely the nature of their relationship, to stop. But if she asked, would Celes honor the agreement or would she renege on the whole thing?

There was only one way to find out. She made eye contact until she could no longer hold it. "I want an answer." Even her voice failed her, coming out in a tiny whisper. "Am… Am I that girl in the past that you fell in love with?"

Celes' stony look had become even more rigid. Terra could almost see a tiny Celes hurriedly building a brick wall behind those now dull expressionless eyes. It was that same look every time the subject of the past came up. She was closing herself off.

It was upsetting to the point that it brought tears to the surface. Oh, who was she kidding? She'd never get a straight answer! The only way she'd learn the truth would be a total regaining of her memories and who knew when or if that would even happen. "You know what?" Terra said with a hitch and a hint of frustration. "Just forget it. You won't talk about it anyway."

She waited for Celes to say something, anything, to keep her within an arm's length because she wanted Celes to say something, to do anything, to pull her closer. But the silence was maddening and loud enough to be painful. Every second felt like minutes and every perceived minute felt like hours—time skewed horribly around the shared event horizon of anger and impatience. She scoffed with a shake of her head and turned to storm out.

She had made it to the door when an arm wrapped around her chest and a warm body pressed against her back. A whisper snuck into her ear. "It wasn't your fault."

Not her fault? This took her by surprise. It wasn't the usual denial and blind rage nor was it the open verification she was looking for. Did this mean that she was? Terra brought her hands up to caress the one holding her heart. "I am, aren't I?"

The arm around her turned into two, transforming the loose embrace into a protective one. Maybe it was of desperation. "It wasn't your fault," Celes said again with shaky cadence. "I had buried the past, but then you came along and exhumed it all. I wanted to blame you for everything, but…I can't blame the victim." She growled with an icy rage. "I'm going to make that son of a dickhead eat his own balls."

Terra sighed. It was obvious that her situation with Kefka affected Celes in a traumatic way. If it wasn't silent denial when questioned, it was rage. And this time was no different. Her quest for knowledge once again deflected by the invisible clown in the room, but there had been some progress. Some progress was better than none, that was for sure. Perhaps next time she'd get the full answer she wanted.

Terra had no idea how far under the surface they were, but she did know one thing: it was dark as all hell, assuming hell was dark that is. She presumed that was why they had put her in the lead of the group. It was eerily quiet as well, save for the sound of a distant underground stream. But there wasn't anything she could do about that. It was easier to make fire to light the way than it was to make small talk to drone out the white noise. Besides, the intense magical buzzing smothered her desire to talk.

Rather than talk out loud, she held a conversation with herself. She wondered what it was that Figaro Castle's burrowing drills had hit. The contact had been so hard that the dead stop had thrown everyone and everything not bolted to the floor smashing into walls, ceilings, other people, and other things. Edgar, sitting upside down on his throne, had calmly asked them to investigate what they had hit. Despite agreeing to do so, Terra had been distraught. It seemed that fate wanted to see her go hungry today. And her rumbling tummy reminded her once again that she was neglecting it.

As she led Celes, Locke, and Sabin through the endless dank corridors, she couldn't help scratching her chest at the hem of her dress where an uncontrollable itch demanded attention. The further they walked, the more her body physically changed. Several minutes ago, she had lost her hearing until her ears had repositioned themselves on top of her head. And now, she wanted to cry. She was covered in itchy white fur once more. She wanted to rip her clothes off and scratch until it was satiated or she drew blood with her new claws, whichever came first.

Behind her, Celes, for the tenth time in half as many minutes, complained about the oppressive, claustrophobic nature of these cavernous tunnels. "Can we go back to the castle?" she said with an unusual, fearful waver. "I think I left my sword in my room."

"For the tenth time: it's on your back." Sabin's voice echoed from somewhere in the darkness behind them.

Clearly, Terra wasn't the only one keeping score of the complaints. However, she wasn't entirely unsympathetic. Her fire and the flameless Figarian lamp Locke carried barely made a dent in the thick darkness. It was like trying to peer through burnt pea soup. There was also the worry that the ceiling could follow through with its threats of collapse at any moment. At best, someone, probably Celes as she was the tallest, whanged their head on a low hanging stalactite. At worst, they died the horrible painful death of being buried alive.

The sooner they took care of this the sooner Terra could get something eat. Though, at this rate, she'd be eating dinner rather than breakfast. She wondered: Would the head chef make her a bacon omelet with a side of bacon pancakes for a late brunch? How exciting if yes!

"We should have come to the front of the castle by now," Locke said. "Are you leading us in circles, Terra?"

A sudden sharp pain at the base of her spine tugged her attention down and behind. She nearly cried out, but managed to keep silent on the matter; it felt like someone had set her lower back on fire. Celes panicking with claustrophobia was enough; she didn't need any of them to assume she had run into monsters. There wasn't room for battle anyway. She reached back to touch the tender area and found something odd beneath her dress—hard and rope-like.

Sabin called, "Hey, Terra! You asleep up there?"

Terra forced a laugh and looked back to regard her traveling companions. Their frowns of surprise had fallen so hard that she thought she heard the thuds on the ground. They apparently hadn't expected to see her cat form despite commenting on the change of hair color before leaving the castle. "Sorry, Sabin," she said with what she hoped was a brave face. "I wasn't ignoring anyone." She reached back and touched the tender area once again. "But I think I just grew a tail."

"A tail?" Celes said with surprise. "That's new."

Now aware of her new prehensile appendage, Terra brought it forward and wrapped it protectively around her waist. She flashed them a quick toothy grin before turning to continue ahead. A hand on her shoulder stopped her momentum.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Let's just get this over with." Terra nodded and gave Celes another smile. Based on the look she got back, it hadn't been a convincing one.

They continued along in the darkness for what had seemed like a chocobo's age, until light flickered from up around the bend. This wasn't Terra's light; her light was in her hand, not another room. This was flickering light that belonged to someone who either didn't want to be found and wasn't expecting to be or someone who was desperate for another human soul.

Nervousness among them was so high that Terra could taste its bitterness. Gods only knew what they'd encounter in the next room. She snuffed her fire with a wave of her hand and drew her katana before hugging the wall. The other three wordlessly followed suit.

She cautiously sidled her way toward the corner. Inch by inch, step by step, she closed the gap between herself and the bend. The shadows dancing on the walls and floors served as human and nightmare shaped distractions. The silence was so deafening that she wanted to scream just to break it. Except, it wasn't entirely silent; the echoes of several crackling fires filled their ears with a dull static roar.

"Think someone's here?" Celes whispered.

They were miles underneath the Nibelheim Sea. The only path down here had been Figaro Castle's burrowing. She nodded to say that she did, but who the hell could be down here? And who besides she and Celes would have a magical field? It could only be one of two things, and there was no way it was another MagiTek Knight. "An esper."

"How can you tell?" Locke said quietly. "Aside from the lit fires, that is."

Terra steeled herself and slid another step. "I can feel the magical field," she said.

"Are you sure?" Celes said. "I can't feel anything other than yours."

"Positive. I've been feeling it since I woke up." Terra shimmied up to the corner and signaled the others to stop. "I think it's…calling to me."

She took a deep breath and willed her racing heart to slow its beating before it leaped straight out of her chest. Her fur stood on end and was exceedingly uncomfortable around the edges of her clothing. She was even vaguely aware of her new appendage twitching erratically behind her. A steady hand on her arm did bring some calm, but not enough to quell the fears that had been in the back of her mind all morning.

"Don't be scared," Celes mouthed silently.

Terra responded with a weak smile and a nod, though she couldn't stop her tail from the weird icky twitching. Ignoring it, she slowly poked her head around the corner. The corridor opened into the most massive and only cavern they had come across since setting foot outside the castle. It was monstrous! Multiple ground-based pyres lit the cavern in an almost inviting way. It was as if someone lived here and was welcoming them into their home or, on a darker note, warning them to stay away. Giant stalactites and stalagmites of many colors and sparkly capabilities littered the roof and floor respectively. In the very back, behind a stalagmite and a stalactite that had joined forces, stood a run-down, dilapidated castle that easily rivaled Figaro in size. Chunks of its towers and spires either littered the ground in pieces or disappeared into, and became a part of, the ceiling.

Terra gasped in awe and wonder at the beauty of it all before running out into the center of the cavern to get a better look. From behind, she heard a whistle and Celes breathlessly say, "Would you look at that!" She wasn't the only one finding loveliness in the centuries-old destruction.

Movement between the rocky, naturally-made spires caught her attention. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw what had appeared to be a black-clad knight on some sort of beastly white mount that wasn't a chocobo. When she turned to look, the vision was gone, and the atmosphere in the cavern had changed, like a chill wind blowing through a closed off and secured room. Several of the burning pyres went dark, sending the area into a realm of creepy the likes she'd never experienced. It felt like she was being watched and scrutinized. There was no doubt now; something was calling her. But for what purpose?

Terra turned her attention to the run-down castle before them. Flags of faded and tattered cloth hung from dark windows and other places banners were typically placed. Chunks of walls had relocated to the ground. Wooden doors, especially the front gate, had rotted away to practically nothing but dust and fungus spores. Inside, she could see it with her mind's eye; a dull reflective light was moving further in.

"The esper's in the castle," she said.

Locke came up beside her. "What makes you so sure?"

"I can feel it, like the esper at Narshe." A hesitant hand on her shoulder pulled her attention to the opposite side of her.

Celes hovered just behind with a look of extreme concern. Her other hand readied for battle by resting at the blade on her back. An icy mist floated about, another sure sign that she was ready to kick someone's ass. "Is it trying to control you?" she said.

Terra shook her head and frowned inwardly at the sight of her lavender curls. Emerald suited her better. "No, it's…" She tried ignoring the fang that decided that it wanted to stick out over her bottom lip. "It's too weak."

"We should see if we can talk to it face to face," Locke said while waggling a finger. "Maybe we can convince it to join us in the fight against the Empire."

Sabin buried a fist into an open palm. He said, "Can you imagine us fighting alongside an esper? That's like something out of a fairytale."

Terra nodded and couldn't help feeling that she was living out a fairytale – the magic, the amnesia, joining a resistance group, her appearance, espers, a castle that could burrow underground. Why couldn't she be normal and live a normal life? But then again, what exactly was normal?

As they approached the entrance, the feeling of unease became greater, almost overwhelming. Although, that could have been the vast wall made of spider webs. Terra sheathed one of her katana and willed a fireball back to reality in the palm of her hand, not only to cut through the darkness of the inside but just in case. Monsters could jump out from around a corner, hungry for brain bacon. Zombies could suddenly rise from the shadows with desires to snack on their brain bacon. The esper could even be mad with loneliness and endeavor to smother them with kindness, teas, and biscuits. Rather unlikely, that one, but anything could happen!

In the main hall, Terra's fire lit the way and, as a bonus, illuminated the rot and decay surrounding them. What had once been a lush, red velvet carpet turned to dust under their footsteps. What had once been illustrious marble flooring and walls had been bullied into stress cracks and broken bits. What had once been paintings of beautiful desert landscapes and portraits of people and creatures the likes none of them had ever seen lay scattered in pieces and abandoned. If anything, it looked as if a frustrated swordsman had rampaged through there.

In the dim light, Terra caught a glimpse of a painting of someone who looked remarkably like Celes dressed in women's clothing. She would have said something regarding it, but all was forgotten the moment Celes did an un-Celes-like thing and screamed like a frightened little girl. With shrieks like that, Terra panicked and immediately assumed that monsters were attacking. Her fire only burned away a mass of spider webs to reveal a look of adorable embarrassment.

Tense laughter and themselves aside, there was nothing human or monster-based in these castle ruins. No skeletons, mummies, zombies, or bone fragments; there were no organic human remains of any kind, anywhere. They had only found the remnants of spiders' silk.

Eventually, they came upon what they assumed to be the throne room. Two dusty and tarnished royal-like chairs adorned the partially decayed back wall on a raised and tilted portion of the floor. Aside from a stairwell leading down, the room appeared empty and lonely. Aside from the stairwell, the rest of castle seemed to be inaccessible due to collapse.

"Damn," Locke said as he looked up from inspecting a broken and malformed archway. "I was hoping to do some treasure hunting."

"Sorry, man," Sabin said. "Looks like it's been picked clean already."

Celes tapped a finger on her frowning lips. "If that's the case, then how? I mean, we're under a bloody ocean with no way down here other how we got here!"

Sabin shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe this used to be the surface a long time ago."

Terra, paying no heed to the conversation of what had been and the reasons behind it, turned her attention to the stairwell leading deeper into the darkness. There was a feeling she got as she looked to the floor beneath her feet, almost as if a spirit was crying out in loneliness. Her thoughts turned to what could be down there. Perhaps she'd find those who had lived in this castle and protected its lands? This idea calmed her nerves, but what else was hiding down there?

Like a rat to a pied piper, she took her first step down. It wasn't a particularly bright idea going by herself, but… She took a second step. Surely, the old saying 'curiosity killed the girl who looked like a cat' was just an old wives' tale, right? A third step. She couldn't be afraid now! 'A new day will dawn for those who stand long,' as they say. Whoever 'they' were.

Before she knew it, she was, to her amazement, alone in a small library. All four walls of the room held shelf after shelf of books, most of which were still intact! She had read an entire row of spines before it dawned on her that she could read them. Shouldn't a castle this old have used a language other than common Vectorian?

After willing her fire to hover in the air, Terra gingerly plucked a random book from a random shelf. At first glance, it looked like any old book. However, after skimming through the first few pages, it became clear that it was anything but. Somehow, she had chosen the diary of the castle's Queen, Frigg Asgard the Beautiful. From the mundane humdrum activities of her daily life to magic spells to her last angst-filled moments, it detailed everything.

Several passages at the end caught Terra's eye. The date, unfortunately, was partially obscured by blots of ink. "March 14, _44. Asgard is the only nation of the world that refused adoption of Nidavell's SOLDIER technology. Magic belongs to the Espers and those to whom the Espers willingly gift it as Magicite. To remove that magic by force, to draw from them their Mako, is cruel and a fate worse than death. As the daughter of an Esper, I was horrified. As the daughter of a human, I could not let this continue.

"I offered the Espers a safe haven—a place to call home. I provided safety not only to my loyal subjects but to the human sympathizers of the other nations. I challenged the city-states of Nidavell—Junon, Karm, and Midgard—when I felt we were strong enough to do so.

"I failed.

"Perhaps our undoing had been my naiveté. Perhaps I had been too trusting of the people of the other nations. Perhaps I had been too trusting in my own kind. To think that an Esper would betray their own in favor of the SOLDIERS of Nidavell. To think they would betray me after giving them my heart and my home. To think that they and their power-hungry humans would storm the castle, as of this writing, to end my life and draw from me my Mako. It is unfathomable, yet very real.

"I shan't let that happen. My darling Odin gave his life to protect me against Nidavell's SOLDIERS; I shan't let his sacrifice be for naught. I shall hide myself in the lower chambers of the castle and cast my final spell. Should those SOLDIER bastards find me, they'll discover that the stone may contain my essence, but will hold no magic from which they can forcibly draw.

"I hope that whatever the future may bring for my people is, at least, peaceful."

Terra closed the diary and stared at its plain leather cover. This had to be a relic from the War of the Magi and one that contained insight from a direct player, no less! There was no doubt in her mind that she had come across a treasure trove that any modern scholar would love to get their hands on!

She gingerly ran her hand across its surface. Something about this diary spoke to her. She felt it in her heart, but she didn't know why. Perhaps it was the fact that the Queen was the product of the union of a human and an esper. Knowing this gave hope that the two races really weren't all that different. It was endearing.

When something touched her new tail, Terra jumped out of her fur and slammed into the bookcase with a cry. Her heart stopped. Her hair stood on end. Her breath got stuck in her throat. She whirled around, fire at the ready, to face whatever her foe might be. The foe in question turned out to be Celes, icy surprise frozen on her face. With another cry, Terra embraced her friend with a bear hug. "Goodness!" she said. "You nearly scared me half to death!"

"You suddenly disappeared," Celes said softly.

Terra broke off the embrace and presented her find. "Something called me down here, and I think it might have been this! It's a diary of the Queen!"

Celes took it from her hands and opened it to a random page. After a moment, she turned the page and just as quickly turned back. "You can read this?" She turned to another page as her brow furrowed and her lips scrunched down into a corner. "It's just gibberish and strange symbols."

Terra took the book back. Surely, Celes was looking at it wrong. She turned to a random page and skimmed through the journal entry there. She didn't see gibberish or weird symbols. It was plain as day Vectorian. She flipped the book around and held it for Celes to see. "You don't see a journal entry about the Queen hearing rumors of a long-lost identical younger sister?"

Celes shook her head. "Sorry, sweetheart. It's still gibberish."

Well, this was disappointing.

On the floor above, Locke faintly cried out in excitement. "Hey! I found a switch!" Not a moment later, a loud stony THUNK reverberated from one side of the room to the other, shaking the floor and driving her to grab onto Celes in fear. Her focus darted to the source in time to watch an entire bookcase mechanically retreat into the wall behind it, revealing another staircase leading downward.

Terra shared a distressed look with Celes before detaching from her. She could feel the presence stronger now. The esper was down below. The pied piper returned to draw her further into the darkness.

"Um, we should probably wait for Sabin and Locke," Celes said with a slow, uncertain rhythm.

It had been a warning. But Terra didn't heed it; she couldn't. The piper's music was too ensnaring, too beautiful. Ignoring her companions, she proceeded into the veil of darkness and enveloped herself with it. The further she went down, the faster her heart raced. The faster her heart raced, the stronger the magical buzzing in the air became. The magic was so thick, she could practically taste it on her tongue—raspberry with a hint of molten iron.

At the bottom of the stairwell, she came to a smaller secondary library. Unlike the one above, this one had a realistic statue of a young woman kneeling mid-prayer dead-center of the room. Upon closer inspection with the light of her fire, she made a shocking discovery. The statue looked exactly like Celes, right down to the shape of her eyes, the size of her nose, and everything! It was bizarre!

"Bloody hell!" Terra turned to find that Celes had joined her, with Locke and Sabin not too far behind. "That looks just like me!"

Locke snickered and said, "If you live to be as old as that statue, you're going to need a wheelbarrow for that extra baggage you carry up front." He dodged out of the way of an icy fist, much to Sabin's amusement.

Celes scoffed but continued as if nothing had happened. "Whoever made this must have had some skill in the arts. She looks like just as alive as us."

Sabin scratched his head. "Only she's made of stone."

"That was kind of my point."

Terra gently brushed the cheek of the stone woman, and as she did, the buzzing in the room distorted into faint words. She looked to the others, but if they had heard it, they didn't take notice. She closed her eyes and focused.

YOUR FRIEND'S RESEMBLANCE TO FRIGG IS UNCANNY.

Terra looked up to the dark armored knight now in front of her and gave a weak smile. The beast he was riding neighed and stamped its hooved foot; it was an animal she had never seen before. She wanted to reach out and touch its soft looking coat of fur, but it, along with its rider, wasn't really there. Espers seemed to have a thing for speaking to her from inside her head.

It is, she said internally. She turned herself to stone, didn't she?

IT WAS A SACRIFICE TO PREVENT NIDAVELL FROM OBTAINING HER MAGICITE, AS WELL AS MY OWN.

Nidavell, that was that opposing nation that was very much like the Empire of today. But magicite… She'd never heard that word before. What was that?

The esper sat up stiffly in his saddle as if her thoughts had surprised him. SURELY YOU KNOW OF MAGICITE, he said. IT'S THE CRYSTAL WE ESPERS BECOME ONCE WE LOSE OUR MORTAL BODY.

Terra shook her head and cast a glance at Celes as she approached to inspect the Queen. So, even though she was part human, she'd become this magicite?

INDEED. YOU HALF-CASTES ARE ONLY DIFFERENT FROM US IN YOUR APPEARANCE.

Wait. Did he think that she was…? I'm a human, she argued. My magic came at the expense of some poor esper who is being tortured in Vector.

I…SEE.

The esper very much gave off the impression he didn't believe her. But considering she looked like a giant cat, she wasn't too surprised.

SO, YOU ARE SEEKING MY ASSISTANCE IN HELPING YOU SAVE THIS POOR SOUL?

There are many espers caught in the clutches of the Empire. We belong to a group that wants to free them and create a world where everyone can live in peace. So…yes?

VERY WELL. I WILL HELP YOU.

Terra froze in surprise. Seriously? Just like that?

INDEED. DESPITE WHAT YOU MAY THINK, WE ARE KINDRED SPIRITS, YOU AND I. IT'S WHY I CALLED YOU DOWN HERE. IT'S WHY I STOPPED YOUR BURROWING CASTLE. YOUR GOALS ARE VERY MUCH OUR GOALS. SO… YES, JUST LIKE THAT.

The esper laughed, a deep infectious laugh. It was one that brought a smile back to Terra's lips. She nodded and lowered her head. Thank you.

The statue before her, much to her surprise, suddenly opened its clasped hands to reveal a shimmering gemstone of green and red. It also had started leaking water from the eyes. Was Frigg still aware of everything that transpired around her? How horrible if she was.

TAKE MY MAGICITE, AND I WILL AID YOU WHEN YOU CALL. ALL I ASK IN RETURN IS THAT WHEN YOU SUCCEED, YOU RETURN ME TO MY RIGHTFUL PLACE BESIDE FRIGG THE BEAUTIFUL.

Terra gently took the gemstone and pressed it to her heart. "I will. Thank you," she whispered. It was warm, and the power within it caused her veins to throb along with its rhythm. Was this the power of an esper, only condensed?

A hand on her shoulder brought her out of her trance. Celes, Sabin, and Locke were staring at her in concern, though Sabin had been the only one to vocalize anything. "You okay? You've been staring at that statue since we found you down here."

Locke raised a puzzled eyebrow. "And how did you get it to open its hands like that?"

Terra nodded, and after not finding her new friend anywhere, hoarsely said, "The esper has agreed to help us."

One of Celes' eyebrows went up with confusion. "Just like that?" she said.

"Yes, just like that."

"That's crazy! When did you even speak to it?" Locke tapped his chin with a finger before darting his eyes around the room. "In fact, where is it?"

"Him," Terra said. "And we've been talking since I came down the stairs. He's been turned to magicite." As she held up the gemstone, she flashed her friends a weak but toothy grin. "He said all I have to do is call him."

INDEED, came the esper's voice in her head. CONSIDER YOURSELF FORTUNATE, YOUNG ONE. IT IS NOT OFTEN THAT MANY CAN SAY THEY HAVE RECRUITED THE ASSISTANCE OF ODIN, LORD OF THE KINGDOM OF ASGARD.

Terra returned her attention to the crying statue of the ancient Queen and straightened herself with a new determination. This was no longer just about the Returners and their struggles against the Empire. This was no longer just about protecting the innocents of the present. This was also about retribution for those lost in the past, for those who had perished in the past. This was about ending a story left unfinished and abandoned in a time that most had forgotten.

She couldn't let the Queen's story end here. She'd finish it, piece it back together. She was going to make it her mission to continue where Frigg Asgard, the half-esper Queen, had been forced to stop. She'd bring peace to this world, between espers and humans, or die trying.

Vector. Silius Sector. The Emperor's main chambers. This sacred place within the Empire was one of the few places where nothing extreme happened on a regular occurrence and could be as dull as indifferently watching mud dry on a dead hooker. Most times, Emperor Gestahl just sat there on his throne, day in and day out, rarely moving to do basic things like taking a crap in his other personal throne or even feeding himself. Those who had access to this holiest and sacred of rooms in the Imperial Palace usually questioned whether the man was alive or dead.

Kefka, on the other hand, always giggled to himself like a lunatic who had just read the funny papers. Why would the Emperor do the most basic of tasks himself when he could order someone to do it for him? Ah! The life of luxury! To be the one in power! How jealous he was! How he wanted to be the one in control! But, alas, he was not. He'd have to vent his frustration with another limp, mud-caked lady of the night.

"Come, young Kefka," the Emperor said softly from his throne above the world. "We have not spoken since your return from Narshe. Tell me of the Returners."

Kefka cackled. The Emperor? Wanting information about the Returners! What irony! "Why, my liege, surely, you are already aware of their exploits."

"I'm well aware of what I know, Court Mage. I want to know what you know."

Well! Someone was testy today! Did he make a mess in his robes before finding out that the housekeeper was now a crispy deep-fried Returner sympathizer fed to the military's dons and ralphs? Kefka laughed once again. Damn whores! The lot of them! "By your order, my liege!" he said with a bow of submission. "The Returners are spread thin, like vegemite on toast! As you very well already know, the unimportant nobodies—the traitors—have been left behind in Narshe to guard our esper!"

The Emperor steepled his finger and grinned behind his bushy beard. "I see," he said. "And what of our little project? One-oh-five-three-eight?"

"You mean Big Boobs Bimbo? The Whore? Blonde Bitch? Frumpy-Goody-Two-Shoed-Wench?" Kefka couldn't help but find his insults hilarious. They were the perfect description of that stupid Celes and how obnoxiously annoying she was. "The other traitor—on her way to the City of Sunshine to follow up on some 'whispers of information.'" He laughed once again, so loudly that he caught a nearby guard jumping at the sound. "But you should already know this!"

"I do." The Emperor remained silent for a moment as he stroked his beard. "Send Leo with a battalion out to Narshe to put down the Returner resistance and secure our esper. Make sure he understands that he is to destroy that miserable waste of a hovel once it has served its purpose."

"With pleasure, my liege." Kefka bowed low with a giggle. These orders would make Leo squirm! How titillating! How exciting! If only he were alone to rub his nipples!

"And what will you do about our lost biological weapons?"

The glare coming off the throne was one that could turn even the Lamia Medusa to stone. It was a good thing Kefka carried trinkets that protected against such things. He rubbed his hands together and chuckled softly. "Oh, I've already put a plan into motion, my lord! And what a plan it is! A glorious plan! A marvelous plan! The Returners' trip to Kohlingen will be their last! Alas, poor, sweet Celes will regret turning against us!"

With a sigh, Celes closed her eyes and relaxed. The searing warmth of the hot bubbly bath worked its way into her muscles and joints, soothing aches and pains. She had taken baths before, but never anything like this. It had always been a cramped metallic or wooden washbasin with someone else's used dirty-ass lukewarm water. Hot water? Bubbles? Room to stretch and fully submerge? This was a luxury, and one she was going to enjoy.

With the body inert, the mind was unshackled and allowed to roam wherever it damn well pleased. At first, she had tried focusing on plotting their route through Kohlingen, but that died within moments of wondering how Terra was handling looking like a cat once again. Then, through the magic of mental gymnastics, the two of them were in a freezing tent outside Narshe doing things that lovers typically did behind closed doors.

With a growl, Celes splashed water on her face and rubbed her eyes. She had buried those feelings long ago. Why did they keep dominating her thought processes? Damn zombie feelings and their hunger for brains. Mental torture, that's what this was, and she was unwittingly doing it to herself. It had to stop. It had stopped at one point, but, clearly, what she wanted and what she really wanted were two entirely different things.

She let her head fall back to the top of the tub and sighed once again. The anxieties had come back: tongue-twisted fretting, frustrating depression, irritation, paranoia, sexually driven thoughts and dreams. She was cursed; there were more important things to focus on, like staying alive on a day to day basis and striking revenge on the Empire. She was especially going to make that rat-faced clown pay for Terra's sake.

That's all well and good, surfaced a stray thought, but love is a normal thing. Let it grow. Let it show. Try to love again.

She scoffed. Normal was for normal people. Love was for the weak minded. She was a MagiTek Knight. All she knew or cared about was battle. Granted, she had loved Terra before she had unwillingly disappeared, but that deep cut taught her how to harden her heart.

That's the biggest crock of shit, and you know it. You may be a soldier, but you're still human. The only thing hard about your heart is how hard you try to hide the bloody thing.

Celes sat up and shook her head to clear it of voices. She was looking at this so ridiculously that she was mocking herself over it. And she hadn't been the only one. Terra was suspicious of her feelings to the point that she was no longer dropping playful, joking hints and was now asking questions outright.

What was a girl to do? Tell the truth only to be shot down? Oh, hell no. No way. No way could her heart take that kind of rejection. Surely, Terra wouldn't be interested, and because of that, it was better to give half-truths and keep the rest to herself.

She closed her eyes and tried to relax once more. Still, when Terra had said, "I'd rather kiss you," there had been an unusual look of lust on her face. But, that had been a sarcastic comment to gain the upper hand, right? Terra was no stranger to making odd, off-the-wall comments. It was one of those, right? It had to be. Had to be! Terra was too friendly with the men – always bubbly with Edgar and Locke, hanging off Sabin's arm like…

"If you're not careful your face will freeze like that."

Celes nearly jumped out of the tub in surprise and quickly tried covering her lady bits with her hands. "Where the hell did you come from?!"

Terra had slinked her way into the water without any sort of noise and had gotten so close that she was practically pinning Celes in place. The grin she wore was full of cheek and whiskers, while her new tail broadcast her playfulness like a lighthouse. "I came in through the bathroom window," she said with a pinch of sarcasm. "Just to be different, y'know. Doorways are boring."

"Okay. But that doesn't explain why you're here."

"Medical science." Terra promptly positioned herself in Celes' lap and wrapped her arms around her neck, all the while beaming with that cheeky grin. Good gods, she was so soft! And to have nothing but that white fur separating skin to skin contact was distracting! "But you remember how you said the winner could make the loser do anything?"

The practice fight from the morning. Of course, how could Celes forget a stupid thing like that? She was the queen of putting her damn foot in her mouth.

"This is what I want," Terra said with a nuzzle. Much of her dominating sarcasm and playfulness had disappeared to make way for softer emotions.

Celes, overwhelmed with surprise, stared at the green eyes gazing back at her. "You want to bathe with me?" she choked out while trying to keep her giddiness at bay. "Why?" Granted, the tub was large enough to fit five morbidly obese people, but bathing was an intimate thing reserved for lovers and parents with their young children. They were just friends, right? Friends didn't bathe together, right?

Terra giggled and poked Celes on the nose with a furry finger. "Why not?" she said. "Does it really matter? Besides, I'm already here."

She supposed Terra did have a point. At the end of the day, it didn't matter at all. She had seen Terra's birthday suit more times than she could count on one hand, almost as if that girl enjoyed flaunting it in her direction. Perhaps she knew she was beautiful in a fire-wielding magical-girl-next-door sort of way.

But where had Meteor come from? Or the ability to stop an onslaught of arrows and redirect them? How was it that she kept transforming into this cat form? How could she speak directly to espers without anyone even knowing? How did she see coherent writing where everyone else saw gibberish? If Celes didn't know any better, she'd almost think that Terra was a…

No, she couldn't be. But all the signs were there, couldn't be ignored, and made so much sense the idea was pratically crazy. Never had she heard mention of an infusion. She had assumed it had taken place. Maybe there had been no need for one. Maybe Terra had these abilities her whole life and had never known. Or maybe she had known and purposely hadn't advertised that fact.

Was it possible that Terra was actually an esper? If so, that explained Kefka's motives for his actions so much better than her initial reasoning that he was just a dick. It also explained why Valigarchickennugget had been so quick to enthrall her.

"You okay, Celes?" Terra was looking at her with big eyes and a snaggle-toothed frown.

Celes nodded and gave Terra a squeeze. "Just thinking, sweetheart," she said. Esper or not, it didn't matter. Terra was Terra and wholly desirable regardless of what she was or how she appeared. Everything else was just a bonus part of the package.

"What about?" Terra cutely poked her on the nose again. "Because you've got this silly grin thing going and it's adorable."

Celes felt her face drop. She was broadcasting her internal dialogue again. She really needed to work on her poker face because this really was not a conversation she wanted to have at this point. How would she broach the subject anyway? 'I think you're an esper, Terra. By the way, are you attracted to women?' Ha! That'd go over well. "I'd…rather not talk about it," she said.

Terra nodded, her taut lips and the quiet noise she made stating that she wasn't going to argue. She probably wasn't surprised either. Celes had used the same excuse so much in the last few days that even she wasn't surprised.

An awkward silence fell over them like a heavy woolen blanket, itchy and suffocating. Celes sat rigidly with Terra in her arms and lap and failed to come up with anything that made particularly good bathing conversation. But, then again, nothing really made good bathing conversation.

After an eternity, Terra mumbled, "I wish I looked like you, hey."

Well, that was sudden and shocking coming from someone who seemed comfortable in flaunting her naked body. "There's nothing wrong with how you look, sweetheart," Celes said in reassurance. She hoped her sincerity showed through mainly since she was better at nurturing things to death.

"Yes, there is," Terra said with a pout. "I look like a cross between a bloody cat and an ironing board."

"Well, maybe I happen to find cat and ironing board hybrids beautiful." Baldur's Gate, that was awful. Celes mentally buried her face in her palm. For the hundredth time, she needed to start thinking things through before she spoke.

Still, for all its cheesiness, Terra's eyes turned into metaphorical hearts. "You think I'm beautiful?" she said softly, her tail happily and lazily swishing above the water. She leaned close enough to touch noses and issued a whispered challenge. "Prove it."

Celes swallowed the overabundance of saliva that had suddenly started collecting in her mouth. The heat from the water had become unbearable and uncomfortable, making her breaths come in shallow and quick. It didn't help that she had been forced out of the comfort zone of her reiterative denial. She was frozen, unable to act. Words failed her; they bashed together to form nothing but a lumpy mass of gibberish.

Terra pulled away with a look of concern, except she was no longer Terra. She now had blonde hair, black-tipped cat ears, and facial features that made Celes feel she had looked into a mirror. Even the voice was that of her own. "You really need to stop torturing yourself like this, hey."

"What?" A quick blink brought the world back to how it was supposed to be. Terra was a worried Terra and not a crazy mirror image. What the hell had that been?

"Are you okay?" Terra said. "You looked like you had gone somewhere else."

Celes rolled her neck and grunted when it popped. "I think I stroked out there for a second, hey."

Terra settled back down in her lap and buried her face somewhere between the neck and shoulder. A soggy tail curled around an arm. "Anything I can do to make you feel better?"

Celes sighed in frustration. "I'll be alright." There were a lot of things that would make her feel better, but none that she could ask for. Well, she could, but it was more along the lines that she was too afraid to do so. She was on her own. Still, it was endearing to have Terra as a friend if nothing else. In the end, friendship was the most important, even if it was frustrating as all balls.

Chapter Text

The small country town of Kohlingen had a slogan dreamed up by some intelligent politician hoping to score votes before reelection. This successful attempt at appealing to voters and failed attempt with the tourists came complete with a drawing of a cartoony crow smoking a corncob pipe. Why a crow was a mystery. Why a pipe was an even bigger mystery. Why the slogan "There's more than corn in Kohlingen!" was the biggest mystery of them all; the town's main export was wheat and wheat by-products. Why such a silly thing became popular with Kohlingen citizens, outsiders could only guess.

Bringing up corn to a Kohlinger usually brought forth their odd, irrelevant catchphrase followed by a casual mention of the multitude of applications one could do with said vegetable. Sometimes, an off-handed remark about the train station connecting the farming community to her larger and quirky art student sister city of Jidoor came into play. Other times, one simply received a blank, slack-jawed stare.

If Narshe was considered 'in the sticks' and rock obsessed, corn-for-brains Kohlingen was two-steps away from 'banjo country.' Somebody wasn't anybody in town unless they owned the largest farm or dated their cousin and used grandma's health for pillow talk. Train or no train, these things tended to happen with geographical isolation. Nobody was going anywhere quickly thanks in part to the surrounding majestic mountains, sparkling seas, dazzling deserts, and flat fields.

Despite the balls-deep incestuous relationships, the town-wide banjo phenomenon, and the type of Billy Bogans^[1] who would watch outsiders from the safety of their living room windows, the town itself was reasonably beautiful and exuded a particular kind of wafting charm. Celes, being a city girl, later learned with a choking gag that this particular charm was actually from the manure of the corn-fed cows. That, in and of itself, was fine; it was the fact that these dirty bastards used that shit to fertilize their lawns to bring out that greener on the other side of the fence flavor.

Celes held back her breakfast as much as she could to the point that her eyes shed tears. Terra hid inside her hooded cloak, not only to protect herself from the stench, but to keep at bay the staring at her magical cat-girl form. Aside from a slight wrinkle in his nose, Sabin didn't seem to be phased by Kohlingen at all. If he was, he hid it pretty damn well and needed to share his secrets with the rest of them.

To think that Locke grew up in this literal shithole; it was so horrifying a thought that Celes had felt the need to apologize. Granted, all of Vector smelled bad, but that was the stench of human ingenuity and industrialization with a pinch of unnecessary bloodshed and the occasional bout of infidelity. Maybe even a few dead bodies hidden in shallow graves on the grounds of the Imperial Palace. Maybe it was all of the above. But, damn it, it had a purpose other than lawn fertilizer.

After arriving in town, Locke quickly took off on his own, claiming that there were people he needed to see and smells he wanted to avoid. Not wanting to keep a man from seeing his (she assumed) family, Celes gave him her blessings before leading the others to the train station to wait out time until the next departure to Jidoor.

What had started as a simple "Can we have tickets, please?" turned into a verbal brawl over who'd pay the bill. Apparently, the ticket master didn't accept IOUs directed to the Figarian Internal Revenue Department. Begrudgingly, Celes dug deep into their food budget and made it a point to remind Edgar that not everyone dropped to their knees at the mention of his name.

They also had a few tedious hours to kill. There was nothing of interest in this small farming community other than the bench on which Sabin and Terra had seated themselves. Even the crazy-eyed old coot who had approached them to jaw them to death unprovoked lacked any sort of interesting features or qualities. His strange one-sided conversation on the other hand, now that was interesting.

"I saws ya come on into town with Lockey-boy, eh?" he said with that overbearing, hard to understand, heeyucking country drawl that made all Kohlingers sound like dumb-as-rocks heathens regardless of their actual intelligence levels. "I's sure glad to see that he's been makin' friends since he lass pass through town. I's sure as a bear craps in the woods that he's mentioned, but Lockey's from these here parts, yeah? Boy to ol' Farmer Cole, Kohlingen's finest corn specialist."

Celes bit back a laugh at the long, drawn out, and over-emphasized pronunciation of 'specialist.' Plus 'corn' had been mispronounced as 'kern.' Only in these northern backwater towns did one find such hilarious butchering of the Emperor's Vectorian.

"Always the adventurin' type, that boy!" the old man continued. "Tooks after his momma like that. That boy filled the entire town with pride when he's started courtin' that Lockhart girl. Rachel Lockhart was her name. Cutest li'l thing y'all ever done laid your eyes on. Big ol' doey eyes, big ol' curls of chocolate, sweater cows y'all could just get lost in." He accented his point by squeezing mid-air imaginary stress-relief balls.

Celes wanted to punch the perverted old fogey back to next week but thought better of getting arrested by the local watchman. Simple country folk tended to be suspicious of assemblages containing muscle-bound men, frail-looking magical cat-girls, and openly gay Amazonian women. The fact that they were armed to the nines wouldn't help their case, either.

"Well, needless to say, we all knows why Locke done flocked to li'l Rachel like bees to nectar. No doubt, eh? Kohlingen was proud to get herself ready for weddin' bells. Every darn person was doin' their part to put together the best darn hitchin' y'all done seen this side of the entire Backwest. However…"

The old man paused and for a moment appeared a bit misty eyed, but considering that he lacked substantial eyebrows and his eyes looked like oversized pickled hardboiled eggs it was really hard to tell. Celes impatiently tapped her fingers on her upper arm. Another thirty seconds and she was going to demand he continue or go stare at a wall. Elsewhere. Preferably a long ways away.

Terra meekly beat her to the punch. "What happened?"

The old man smiled sadly before continuing. "'Twas a sad thing that happened to him, eh? Durin' a romantic ruse to pop the question, Rachel fell off the bridge they was standin' on an' nearly killed herself dead. Ol' Doc Mordin said she had the amnesia."

The effort of keeping a straight face at the mispronunciation of 'amnesia' was a difficult one. Only Terra made a noise, a little squeak, and covered her mouth with her hands. She didn't say anything, and she didn't have to; Celes already knew what she was thinking. It had nothing to do with the old man's lack of linguistics and incorrect usage of articles ('The amnesia.' Ha!). It had more to do with empathy over sharing an illness with this Rachel girl.

"After that, our li'l Rachel were never the same. Neither were our Lockey-boy. He blamed hisself and took off yonder for the hills. Days after, we fighted off an Empire raid and whupped their sorry hides. Li'l Rachel an' the rest of them Lockharts didn't make it. Set fire to their home, they did. Robbed the girl of her innocence, them yellah bellied bastards did."

Celes looked at Terra the same moment she looked at her. The expression on her face mirrored what she was thinking: This story had gone dark. Hopefully, what the old man had implied hadn't been too dark. Celes wasn't about to ask. Some things were better off left unknown.

"They say she died dead in that field askin' for her beloved," the old man continued. "Tragic, eh? To regain one's mem'ries right 'fore dyin'… Horrible. The followin' corn harvest, Lockey-boy came back a changed man. The town had changed herself as well. I learned him what happened an' offered to bring her back with my death defyin' herbs, I did. But he turned me down, sayin' he didn't want to see her like an empty house with all the candles blazin' like the sun."

After dragging their spirits through the mud, the old man left them mulling over the story and its less than happy ending. Once he was out of earshot, Terra muttered, "Now I understand what he meant." No other comment served as a follow-up, leaving Celes to wonder what she had meant.

Who was this mysterious 'he' and what had he told her?

Celes nearly asked, but Locke rejoined them, prompting the group to board the train and settle into their cabin. Considering Terra had uttered her epiphany after learning Locke's history, it was safe to assume that he was the 'he' in question. But still, what had he said to her and how had it been relevant? Again, Celes nearly asked but decided not to disturb the melancholy atmosphere with more potentially depressing vibes. Even the ordinarily upbeat Locke was bitter with silence and sour with an occasional sigh.

The train jerked to life, and they were on their way. Celes folded her hands in her lap and from behind her window watched the Kohlingen station morph into grasslands with a blur. So, in essence, she wasn't the only one who had loved and lost. While Terra had come back to her in a physical sense, Locke hadn't been so lucky. He truly had lost it all and still managed to keep a positive outlook on things, something she failed miserably at.

She nearly offered him her condolences but decided to empathize silently instead. Sometimes the quiet and stoic presence of an open shoulder was better than the ever-flowing commiserations of an insincere chatterbox. Besides, everyone needed a moment of silence after a visit with the ghosts of the past.

Celes frowned at the crowd surrounding the bar. It was obnoxiously loud, cramped shoulder to shoulder, and overall intimidating. The number of thirsty civilians traveling with them from Kohlingen to Jidoor was astounding. So much for getting a bloody drink; she'd be waiting in line the rest of the day. What woodworks did all these damn people crawl out of?

At least she could see that Terra wasn't here.

Not long after settling in their cabin, the rhythmic rocking of the train had lulled them all asleep. Terra obviously had recovered first, since she was currently missing. Well, maybe missing was too strong a word; she just wasn't anywhere Celes had so far looked, like the restaurant car or the bar. There were few places to go on a moving train, but like a hiding cat, Terra was more than likely somewhere in plain sight's shadows.

A pinch on her buttocks prompted Celes to reach for her blade and turn towards a walking dead man. Except, she had no blade on her, it was stored away in their cabin, and where she expected to find someone, she found only the giggles of invisible children. Little perverts had disappeared in the sea of people. Still, the incident called attention to the fact that she felt naked and less intimidating without her sword. If something serious happened to the train, her magic, while useful, would be as daunting as tits on a bull. There was only so much damage she could do to train robbers with ice-encased fists.

She sighed in frustration and tried rubbing away the headache forming at her temples. She was so uptight that she could turn coal into diamonds. Hell, she was preparing to stop a non-existent train robbery. There were two things that could realign her center and force her to relax: one was denied by an infestation of people and the other by a lack of self-gratifying privacy. She certainly had no exhibition streak while sober (or drunk) and wasn't about to start.

Now angry because of her lack of alcoholic beverage and the existence of an unscratchable itch, Celes headed back towards their cabin. She almost walked passed to exit the car but stopped when she heard voices.

"Where're the girls?" Locke asked rather groggily.

"I dunno," Sabin said. "Probably off awkwardly flirting with each other."

Celes clutched at her heart and nearly choked on nothing in embarrassment. Was she that obvious with her feelings for Terra? Granted, she didn't hide her sexuality in the slightest, she wore it on her sleeve, but even then, she thought that she hid everything else quite well!

Sabin continued, "Makes me glad Edgar's not here. We'd never hear the end of it."

"True," Locke said. "I love your brother to death, platonically I might add, but there's only so much of his perving and obsession with women I can take."

Sabin's laugh followed a thud loud enough to rattle the floorboards under Celes' feet. He must have pounded his fist on an armrest to emphasize his amusement. She was surprised he hadn't accidentally broken anything yet. "Try growing up with him," he said. "When we were little tykes he was ten times worse. The number of times he got scolded for getting into Matron's blouse or hiking a hand up her skirt is downright embarrassing."

"We were all thirteen once. The struggle is real. And I've seen your Matron; she's still quite a looker for someone in her fifties."

"Oh, sure. No doubt about it. But in this case, we were five."

Locke coughed, vocalizing Celes' shock as well as his own. "Dude! Seriously?!" His tone had risen an octave, making him sound like a worried woman which was amusing in its own right.

"Yup."

"He's worse than I thought," Locke said. "You, sir, have the patience of a saint!"

Celes cringed in sympathy when she heard the loud fleshy clap; Sabin must have slapped Locke on the shoulder before exclaiming, "And that's why I became a monk!"

Well, that certainly explained why Edgar's behaviors never changed, even with chilly threats to his family's jewels; it was just too ingrained into his personality. That little conversation also explained why the other two men never joined in when royal perversions ran rampant; they didn't care for it as much as her. Knowing that she wasn't the only one was comforting.

Celes shook her head in amusement and resumed her search for Terra. She passed through the boxcar's heavy door and proceeded to the next one. Aside from being dead-center of the train and having a large outside balcony, this new car was no different from the one she had just left behind. However, being outside gave her a beautiful view of the Backwest's rolling landscape of grassy fields and distant ocean.

Peeking around the corner found Terra leaning on the balcony railing and gazing out over the scenery. Her hips bounced from side to side as her tail swished happily in time with the clacking of the train's wheels. The wind whipped her lavender hair and purple cloak about fiercely, giving the impression of a goddess overseeing her domain from atop a breezy mountain.

Since reuniting at South Figaro, Terra usually wore an empty impassive expression or looked ready to shed tears. She stuck to Celes like a shadow made of glue. Her anxiety rivaled that of an eternally frightened cat, so it was rare to see her relaxed, let alone smiling, while alone. Celes leaned up against the wall, out of sight, and clutched at her heart, right where Terra's bright, beautiful smile had stabbed her. Her knees went weak and shaky. Her head felt numb and foggy. She breathed several deep, calming breaths to get herself back under control, but she needed another peak. Just for a second!

Just as she was about to steal another look, a horrible piercing sound assaulted her. It was so awful she had to cover her ears. What the bloody hell was that? It sounded almost like the train had slammed on its brakes suddenly! Were they all going to die in a horrible ball of fire and massive mass of twisted metal?

No. Wait. That was Terra's singing.

"Silently in the midnight;
They wander the desert;
In search of magic might;
War has begun."

"Shadows flicker so darkly;
Full of regret, life of hell;
A people's dream lost harshly;
The land is torn."

"Won't you help us, valiant Ifrit?
Burn the villains with your Hellfire!
Won't you avenge us, gallant Shiva?
With your ice, Diamond Dust!"

"Please give us strength;
Please give us hope;
Please, won't you give us the means to continue on?" ^[2]

The disastrous noise finally stopped, prompting Celes to dig a finger in her ears to regain some of her hearing. Poor Terra had the vocal range of nails on a chalkboard. Still, regardless of her singing ability, the lyrical content and its composition (that she could tell) was unlike anything found in modern day society, north or south. Could this have been a ballad from the ancient War of the Magi? It had to be. Only a song from those olden times would refer to espers by name, and the two referred were currently powering several Silius sectors in Vector. Celes knew this for a fact; she had overheard Professor Cid mention it in passing.

So, where did a Vectorian girl with amnesia learn such a song? There was only one way to find out. Celes popped out from the shadows and leaned her back against the railing near where Terra stood. She flashed a heartfelt smile before offering a soft greeting. "Hey, you."

Terra's gaze never averted from the rolling horizon, not even her bouncing in place stopped. The only visible telltale sign that she had paid Celes any attention was the tiny grin that formed under her whiskers. "Hi," she said with the scratchiness of a phonograph needle on sandpaper. She had either gone hoarse from the singing or the dry air. Maybe both.

Celes said, "You know, I've been looking for you. You just suddenly disappeared."

"Funny you say that, hey," Terra said with a twinkle of slyness. "I was wondering how long you were going to stand there and undress me with your eyes."

"I wasn't…" Celes felt her expression drop and promptly stopped her protest. There was no point in arguing. Besides, she was more curious how Terra knew. "Wait. How'd you know I was there?"

Terra cutely stuck out her tongue while tapping at one of her cat-like ears. "I have excellent hearing in this form," she said with a wink. She sidled closer to Celes, to the point that their arms were touching. "It has its pros and cons, of course."

Celes scoffed with amusement. "Excellent hearing, my arse."

Terra's grin grew exponentially as she leaned harder into a shoulder. "That'd be rather awkward if you heard things from there."

Celes maintained her tough-girl façade on the outside, but internally, her heart was beating a mile a minute. Touching in some capacity was not an unusual thing for the two of them, but thanks to that unscratchable itch, her sensitive skin was turning an anthill in a god damn mountain. It made her warm, giddy, sick to her stomach. It was the greatest feeling in the world and the most uncomfortable at the same time. It was an absurdly awful situation that demanded attention no matter how much she tried looking away, very much like a train wreck.

Of course, using train analogies in a negative light while on a speeding train was so going to bring bad karma. So help her, if anything bad happened she was going to scream. To derail her thought process from any further horrible thoughts, Celes kept the conversation going. "So, what've you been doing out here?" she said.

"I found a song in Queen Frigg's journal this morning. I came out here to get it out of my head."

Of course, that song would have come from that magic book. Celes nearly smacked herself for forgetting about it. Although, it was a tad scary that Terra had mentioned it as if magic books forcing information into her head were a normal everyday occurrence.

"Out of your head?" Celes said with a questioning eyebrow. "That's an odd thing to say, hey."

"I know," Terra said before humming part of that song. "It's been repeating in my mind since I came across it last night. It's almost like it's alive and wants to be heard, except…" She giggled. "It doesn't help my singing sounds like a brutal stabbing."

Celes tried stifling her cackling laughter but failed miserably. "It's not that bad."

"I'm not delusional, hey."

"Still, that's an odd thing to say."

"Seriously. Didn't you hear me just a few minutes ago? I sounded like someone was trying to kill me."

"No, I meant, it was odd to mention that the song is alive."

Terra stood upright but maintained that delicious fur-to-skin contact. "Not really, if you think about it," she said. "Music is connected to magic. In some ways, it is magic, hey. They both are the lifeblood of everything that draws breath, of everything that appears on the planet. Magic is why the birds sing, why green leaves sing in the breeze, why the rain sings as it falls to the earth."

Celes couldn't help staring at Terra in surprise. She'd never heard that girl discuss anything this deep regarding magic before. "Where'd you come up with something like that? I don't recall being taught anything like that…ever."

"Queen Frigg," Terra said with a bright, beaming grin. "Her thoughts and theories on the fundamentals of magic and esper/human relations are fascinating!" She deflated. "If only you could read the book like I can."

Celes laughed again. "You seem quite taken by her," she said with a teasing leer.

"Something about her resonates with me." Terra fell silent before throwing her arms around Celes' neck, effectively trapping her between skinny furry arms, a lean furry body, and a flimsy metallic railing. "Or maybe she just reminds me of someone I know."

Feeling awkward and out of her element, Celes ignored the sexual needs her body demanded and the heat this generated. Baldur's Gate, she couldn't shake the feeling that Terra was flirting with her. She had to keep telling herself that it was all in her head, just like all the other hundreds of times she had dreamt of similar situations. "A passing likeness, I'm sure, mate," she said with a flippant wave of her hand.

Terra deflated and let her arms fall to her sides, terminating that wonderful feeling of intimacy. Her mouth twitched a moment before she turned excited. "I bet it's more than a coincidence, hey! I bet she's your ancestor, and you're an heir to a kingdom!"

In a show of 'no-nonsense,' Celes scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. She said flatly, "It's a dead kingdom, sweetheart. You've been there. You've seen that castle buried under the bedrock of an ocean. And even if I were an heir, which I'm not, I'd be the queen of a desert of water." As soon as the words had left her mouth, she realized just how much of a condescending dick she sounded. Watching Terra deflate once more helped cement that self-assessment.

Terra took a step back and wrung her tail like a water-logged dishcloth. "Yeah, I guess," she murmured to the floorboards. "At least her heart's not made of stone."

And now her fluttering heart had been pierced by an iron spike of culpability. Celes winced with guilt before removing herself from the railing and standing upright. "Terra…"

"I'm sorry," Terra said with the hitch of oncoming tears. "I… That was uncalled for."

Celes sighed and pulled her into a hug. "Nothing you do is uncalled for, hey. If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me."

Terra shoved her away with a scoff and turned about face. She topped the act with defiantly crossed arms. "Well, you can start by apologizing to your subjects under the sea. Fishies have feelings too." Her teasing tone, however, defied the angry appearance.

Celes tapped a finger on her chin before shrugging. "I'm not sure if I like the idea of being a mermaid queen of the fish."

"You better start liking it, hey. And you better make sure you give a genuine smile when you give your apology speech."

"That's irrelevant. I'm a general. Generals don't smile unless we win an impossible battle."

"I call shenanigans, General," Terra whispered slyly, playfully stretching out Celes' former title as she, again, wrapped her arms around her neck. "I bet I can make you smile, battle or no battle."

Despite laughing the whole thing off, Celes couldn't stop staring into Terra's eyes. They devoured attention. They were awe-inspiring. They were as beautiful as untouched grasslands. They were as green as the greenest green thing that ever radiated green, as much as that analogy was odd. "You're cute," Celes lazily slurred as her hands found new homes under the purple sash loosely wrapped around Terra's flared hips. "And I'd like to see you try."

"I'm not cute. I'm beautiful. You've told me so." The corners of Terra's mouth curved upward in a shy, snaggletoothed smile. She made eye-contact briefly before bowing her head downward and looking off in a different direction. "And I will. Watch me."

Several moments of silence passed before Celes realized that neither of them had said anything. She had been too busy drinking in Terra's beauty and focusing on the pleasing curvature that teased her hands to no end. "I'm watching," she finally said, "but I don't see anything happening." Without even thinking about it, her hands sought out a most excellent adventure and circled around to parts unknown.

That groping action prompted Terra to press herself as close as close could get and make shy eye contact once more. A hand got lost and entangled in Celes' hair. A tail wrapped around her waist. Feline-like purring tickled her ear. Breasts lovingly caressed her own. She struggled to breathe. She was going to pass out if anything else stimulated her like this.

"Keep watching, hey," Terra whispered. "And for the record, I think you'd make a beautiful mermaid queen."

It became warm and humid out despite the cool breeze of the speeding train whipping things about, hair especially. Beads of sweat rolled down Celes' brow. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered about in agitation. She ignored both because Terra was demanding her full undivided attention. This was unlike her. It was as if she were…

"Terra Branford," Celes said barely above a whisper, "are you flirting with me?"

"You goof," Terra said, "I'm trying to kiss you."

Every single nerve ending caught fire, an oddly pleasurable fire. Suspicions were confirmed, and most doubts about the realism of reality retired to whatever tropical resort doubts usually retired. That one-in-a-million-chance Celes had always feared was a real tangible thing that had worked itself into her favor, like a megalodoth bursting through a boorish, high-class Jidoorian tavern. But still, she had to perform one more reality check, lest her psyche shatter to a million pieces.

"Kiss me?" she stammered. "Why?"

Terra inched closer, to the point that their noses were practically touching. "I remember… This one time, I kissed a girl…" Their lips brushed together, nearly knocking Celes to her knees. "…and I liked it."

That light brushing turned into a full-on lip collision, one where Terra tried squeezing the two of them into a singularity - a single fusion of fire and ice. Darkness fell as Celes' eyes visually cut her off from the world around her. The train, the Empire, the Returners, none of those mattered any longer. Her equilibrium danced off-center causing her legs to wobble along with it. Her stomach filled with thousands upon thousands of drunken butterflies that fluttered everywhere they damn well pleased. Incidentally, it felt as though she was soaring through the air on wings made of naked babies and clouds, or red bulls, or whatever. The poor analogies didn't matter in describing the feeling of flight. What mattered was the feeling itself, and it was pretty damn awesome.

The two of them separated for a gulp of fresh air. Daylight returned when Celes forced her eyes to reopen. Incidentally, if it hadn't been for the fact that she was perched a half-inch between perdition and a loving embrace, she probably would have swooned herself right over the railing and into the ground at a face-splattering fifty-five miles-per-hour. Fun? Maybe. Dangerous? Absolutely. Instead, she composed herself with a short disbelieving chuckle. She couldn't believe this had even happened. She couldn't believe that Terra even felt this way, but that kiss and the hand treating one-half of her breasts as a stress-relief device divulged no lies. It was worse than any Imperial-made truth serum.

Terra stood before her, her mouth contorted by a goofy grin and her cheeks ablaze beneath the thin layer of white fur. It was an adorable look and one that melted the ancient ice that had hardened Celes' heart over the years. She leaned her forehead against Terra's and, again, lost herself in those expressive eyes. Those happy, expressive… What word did those romance novels use? Ah, right. Happy, expressive green orbs.

Raw and exposed, Celes slurred, "You make me feel like I'm flying, or drunk. One of the two." She chuckled stupidly and nuzzled her way into Terra's lavender hair. "Or both." Drunk she may as well have been; no person in their right mind would compare eyes to orbs. She might as well have referred to them as billiard balls or marbles.

Giggling and motorbike purring tickled her ear before she felt a pair of lips brush her cheek. "It's funny you mention flying," Terra said, "because something happened to the train while we were kissing."

Celes instantly sobered. "What?" She could expertly turn a question into a statement and, in most situations, it was an ability she prided herself on. However, this circumstance was not one of them.

"I dunno what happened, hey, but you were so preoccupied with calling my eyes orbs that you didn't notice that we had gone flying off the balcony."

"Pull the other…" Celes trailed off as she pulled away. The fact that Terra had somehow read her mind flew beyond her notice. Instead, she couldn't comprehend that it hadn't been Terra that she had been hugging, but rather a doppelganger of herself. It was like looking in a mirror only if Celes dressed more feminine, and had black-tipped cat ears, a black-tipped cat's tail, and white fur all over. Celes instinctively reached for the hilt of her blade and grabbed only air. "Who are you?" she demanded gruffly despite making a right fool of herself.

"You already know who you are, mate," the kitty-clone said. Even her voice and accent were perfectly matched. "You've been lying face-down in the grass now for about ten minutes, hey. You can't hide from reality any longer, so get up."

Celes wanted to question that accusation, but couldn't speak around the grass in her mouth. It was then she realized that she was no longer on the train's balcony, but instead sprawled on the grassy plains. She groggily lifted her head and spat grass and mud. Her whole body ached. Her head was splitting. Her heart and ankle stung with possible fractures. Her jacket and blouse stuck to her side due to blood. Whether it was hers or someone else's, she couldn't quite tell.

The plains land grass was too bloody tall to tell if she was surrounded by a derailed train, but there were some telltale signs. Around her, debris littered the ground as well as her back. Thick smoke rose from somewhere nearby to the sky above and choked out the normal clouds with its darkness and acrid smell. She just had to jinx herself! Stupid bloody train wreck analogies! She growled in frustration and slammed her face back into the ground.

"Fuck me running."

Terra's whole body screamed soreness like someone had wailed on her with a baseball bat. She fought to see through the blurred vision and aching fog in her head, but could only keep one eye open. The foul taste of wet, slimy cotton prevented her from coherently complaining aloud or even wholly closing her mouth. An attempt to massage the pain from her temples yielded no results, forcing her to take notice of the thick rope binding her arms behind her back and her legs together at the ankles. There was also an odd metallic choker around her neck. What it did, she had no clue. Why it was there was just as much a curiosity. However, the fact that she was now fully human was a full-on bonus and relief.

A desire to burn the binds chafing her led to only silence, a total lack of localized heat, and confusion. Her fire refused to respond like a dead chocobo at the bottom of a gorge. No sparks. No flame. No freedom. Well, this was a bloody fantastic situation. She wasn't sure if the lack of magic was related to the choker and/or her human form, but both were undoubtedly looking quite likely.

Why was she bound, gagged, and stripped of her magic? There was nothing anywhere to give her the answer. Was it because she had resembled a monster up until now?

Terra struggled to free herself in some capacity – an arm, a leg; she didn't care what gained freedom as long as it could get her out of there. Sadly, she only managed to chafe her wrists and ankles to a bloody mess. However, the fight brought her to balance precariously on her knees, enough so that she could take in her surrounds.

The thick, acrid smoke that filled the air above her like a heavy blanket signaled a massive fire somewhere in the nearby vicinity. As for her location, she was dead center in an open area strewn with broken, smoldering remains of the train. Behind her, a group of unconscious passengers, men, women, and children alike, were all slumped together in a pile bound and gagged much like she was.

If she had been taken captive because she had resembled a beast, then why were the others captive as well? It made no sense!

The biggest mystery was the woman lying next to her. At first glance, she had thought that Celes had fallen victim as well. At second glance, she remembered that Celes, unlike this lady, would never be caught dead wearing a frilly summer dress, heaps of glittery jewelry, binding rope, or a metal choker. Celes also did not wear her blonde hair in a ponytail. The resemblance, though, was uncanny. This woman had Celes' straight nose, almond-shaped eyes, and similarly over-sized luggage.

After losing her balance and falling forward, Terra grunted harshly as she tried wriggling herself free once more. How had she ended up in such a predicament? One moment, she and Celes had been sharing a breathtaking kiss and then suddenly this disappointment! In fact, where was Celes? She was nowhere to be found in the group of people behind her. Locke and Sabin were missing as well.

Were her friends dead? Terra shivered at the thought. Or hopefully she had been the only one captured, and the other three were skulking about looking for her. She prayed to the various espers that this was the case and that Celes would rescue her in a violent ass-kicking manner. Then she could kiss her heroine, and the two could retire to a private location so she could adequately express her--

Terra shook her head to clear her thoughts. She needed to focus! Now wasn't the time for fantasies! With a frustrated growl, she returned to aggressively wriggling free of the binds turning her into a worm. Sadly, she only managed to flip herself to her back and chafe her wrists and ankles even further. The burning pain was so great she had to bite back bile.

Bloody ropes! Again, she tried persuading fire into existence but came up empty-handed. Bloody magic! If only her hands weren't tied together, then she could have whipped out a katana, used that to free herself, and been on her way by now.

"Oi. You find any other survivors?"

The gruff voice from nearby made Terra's blood freeze. It didn't sound like he was a very nice person; the voice alone could grate piles of cheese. In fact, this guy was probably a distinguished gentleman who meant serious business from behind the business end of a knife. He certainly didn't sound like the Easter Moogle for sure.^[3]

"Nah, mate," came a second seedy voice. "We rounded up any who was still breathin'."

Terra's stomach tightened into knots, telling her that she was in a horrible situation. Of course, being bound and gagged against her will along with other passengers told her this when she first regained consciousness. Scary voices only cemented these suspicions.

"As for General Chere and the Fire Witch…?"

The second voice laughed like a rabid hyena. "Both slapped in anti-magic collars, courtesy of the Empire," he said with a hint of pride.

Anti-magic collar?! Terra gasped into her gag. That definitely explained the lack of magic! But why was the Empire behind this? To enslave her again? To assassinate Celes for treason? To intercept their mission? All of the above? But if any were the case, then why destroy the train and take the civilians hostage? It made no sense.

Said the first voice, "So… How many 'guests' in total will be--" He laughed. "--'visiting' the Empire?"

"About fifty," said the second. "There could have been at least seventy, but Bowser had to blow up a full car."

"Bloody Bowser, that dickhead! As useless as a dead don's donger!"

"Go easy on 'im, mate. He's still learning how to use that MagiTek Armor. Besides, we've got our VIP 'guests'. Those two will net us the most gil."

Bandits! And not your average run of the mill bandits! These were slavers backed with enough Imperial tech to derail a bloody train! Edgar, and even Celes, had mentioned that the Empire had some shady bedfellows, but to bed with slavers… There was more at work than just getting Celes and herself back into their greasy clutches. Were they going to use slave crowns on these people to force their ideologies on them as they had done her? Were they going to turn these people into mindless soldiers? Slaves? Human experiments? This new information opened up way too many doors, and all of them revealed too many horrifying things.

Terra got her first good look at the slavers when they rounded an overturned rail car. One was a lanky, crazy-looking man with crooked, rotting teeth and a pointed nose that made Kefka's look normal. She'd call him 'Wily McSilver' because of his wild grey hair. The other guy was a short, fat, balding fellow, more egg-shaped than man. The only impressive feature about 'Eggman,' beside his weight, was his overly broad and overly stylish ginger mustache.

"Well, well," said Wily, whom Terra recognized as the first voice she had heard. "Look who's awake."

Eggman, now identified as the second voice, giggled and clapped his hands. "I still find it bloody hard to believe that this's that Fire Witch the blokes've been crowin' on about. Surprising that she changed into this little girl once we cut off her magic."

"Green hair, green eyes, pale skin like one of them uptight Doman cunts. Believe it. This's the sheila. This's the one they're after." Terra shivered in fear and tried to make herself smaller when Wily licked his lips. He leered at her, his eyes removing and tossing aside every piece of clothing she wore. "I gotta wonder, Ivo. Do ya think the carpet matches the drapes?"

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Terra didn't own a house they could critique nor did these two sleazeballs look like they knew anything about making better homes and gardens.

Eggman giggled once more. "Nah. No way, mate." He twirled the tip of one half of his mustache between his fingertips. "Gotta be a dye job, yeah?"

Dye job? What were they on about?

After unbuckling his belt, Wily let his pants fall to reveal his grimy urine-stained underwear. "How's about we find out?" he said with a creepy immoral grin.

Terra started to sweat as she looked from one jerk to the other. Now she understood what they were talking about. They wanted to strip her of her knickers! This feeling of dread built up in the pit of her stomach until it was powerful enough to induce full-body shivers. A muffled whimper escaped as she tried to make herself invisible.

Where was Celes?! Sabin? Or even Locke? She could go for a tall frosty glass of rescue right about now, and she didn't care who offered it to her! She'd shower her savior with hugs and kisses!

Eggman followed Wily's example, although the only thing that had separated him from the rest of the world had been the pants he no longer wore. It had been like looking at the face of an extremely wooly-megalodoth minus the tusks, what with the big floppy prehensile trunk and the big floppy ears. And Baldur's Gate, the smell! It was horrid, like fermented fish enhanced with several dashes of death!

The smell alone was enough, though not the only reason, to send Terra inching away as quickly as possible with squeals of disgust. Wily, having other ideas, dropped to his hands and knees to pin her in place. Her view of the world disappeared, replaced instead with scraggly unkempt hair and black, broken teeth. The smell of his breath was putrid enough to turn the grass around her withered and lifeless.

Eggman growled and spat, "Dammit, Albert! Why d'ya always get to go first?!"

"'Cause I'm not a fat knob like you are, Ivo," Wily growled. "Don't fret missy. I'm gonna take real good care of ya."

Terra squealed once more in protest, and again tried squirming away when hands forcefully began an expedition toward parts of her body that, until now, only she had been intimate with. She hid behind her muffled pleas and tears, all in the hope that someone, anyone, would put a stop to this. It was unwanted, degrading, humiliating, and all she wanted was a god damn hug from someone she trusted.

A wet gurgling caught her attention. It had been odd enough and loud enough that even Wily heard it over her cries. "God dammit, Ivo!" he said. "Don't jack it while I'm workin' me mojo!" A curious thud and even more, louder gurgling forced the licentious grin to disappear and foreign hands to stop their infernal wandering. "Ivo? What the hell you doin'?"

Behind Wily's head, Terra caught a glimmer of sunshine, and it was enough to send her hopes skyrocketing. "Sorry, Sunny Jim. Ivo's dead."

Before Wily could rise to his knees to face his adversary, an icicle burst through his mouth, large enough to wedge his jaw open and send a splash of blood and a wave of broken teeth to shore. Terra squealed in surprise and disgust and winced long enough to keep the gore from her eyes. Although, she couldn't look away for long. The ice started growing in diameter, fast enough that she could actually hear it cracking as it expanded – or maybe that had been Wily's jaw snapping. It took a moment, but when realization dawned on him, he gave her a pleading look, as if she could stop what was happening. Not with sealed magic, she couldn't!

The whole silent exchange felt as if it had taken a lifetime to pass, but reality had only been a few seconds. Two hands gripped Wily by his locked jaws and quickly twisted him, producing a wet snap and a newly minted dead body. "And so are you. Bloody rapist."

Wily was tossed to the side and far away, rewarding Terra with the most magnificent sight she could ever behold; it was Celes! Her Celes had come for her in a vicious, bloody rescue! She was so happy she continued shedding tears.

The raging, violent scowl on Celes softened as she bent down to remove the fabric from around Terra's mouth. "Seriously, sweetheart," she said with a light-hearted, relieved laugh. "I can't take my eyes off you for five bloody minutes."

Terra couldn't respond but was so-so thankful that Celes had arrived when she had. As the gag was worked off, she took the time to notice all the injuries that Celes had sustained. A bleeding gash above one eye, matting hair in place. A sizeable wet red stain on her left side signified a severe unseen injury under her jacket. Her right foot and the lower half of that leg was encased in ice as if it were a makeshift cast. A broken ankle, perhaps?

Celes pulled the gag free in time for a dark blur to send her flying. Terra screamed when she hit the side of a nearby rail car with a solid thud and a spurt of blood. The ice boot around Celes' foot disappeared into a mist as soon as she collapsed to the ground.

Terra turned to the man who was now standing over her and demanding her full undivided attention with the flexing of his tree trunk-like arms. He was large and muscular, like an amalgamation of Banon, Sabin, and a chocolate-glazed roast ham. "Oh, my…" he cooed in a high-pitched feminine voice that contrast horribly with his size. "I sincerely hope she's okay. I didn't mean to hit her as hard as I did! I really just don't know my own strength sometimes!"

Terra wasn't sure if she should be afraid or laugh at the absurdity. He looked like someone who could rip her from limb to limb, but rivaled her regarding squeakiness and surpassed her femininity by leaps and bounds. She imagined him enjoying a smashing good tea party with flowers, frilly dresses, and cheesecake, which sounded like fun, but she had a feeling he wasn't here for any of that. The fact that Celes was unconscious and bleeding several yards away fueled that feeling.

"What do you want?" she asked. She tried putting up a tough-girl façade to mask her fear, but it faltered when her voice cracked.

The man giggled. "Why, I'm merely here to make sure that everyone arrives at their destination safely!" he said with a chest stuffed with so much bravado that it looked ready to burst. Or maybe that was just his muscles. Truth be told, Terra couldn't tell the difference. Though, she did note that he had larger breasts than her. This brought about another realization: All men had larger breasts than her, muscles or no muscles.

Shoving all that nonsense aside, she wondered briefly if perhaps this guy was a ranger of some kind, a man sent out into the wild plains to keep the peace. Although, he really didn't look the part. He had no uniform nor, more importantly, a hat; all men with power wore hats. Rangers also wouldn't attack unprovoked young women aiding those in need. She had to know exactly where this guy stood as he was sending out mixed signals (in more ways than one). Her gut said enemy, but his words implied friend.

"So, you're here to take us all safely to Jidoor?"

"Oh, heavens no!" Muscle-Man said with a limped wrist. "You don't want to go to Jidoor, sweetie! That hovel is full of greed and thieves! A nasty, horrible place! A plain looking girl like you will surely be gang-raped by hundreds of men and women five minutes there!" He bent down and grinned. It was the same rotten grass-killing grin of Wily McSilver minus the rotten teeth. She held her breath and tried to bury herself further into the ground to flee from it. He continued, "You'll be much safer in Zozo. I won't let anything happen to you."

Doubt reigned supreme; Celes' crumpled form attested to that reasoning. She still hadn't moved, and Terra started fearing the worst. Usually, Celes shrugged off most attacks like an enraged bull, but if she had been injured beforehand… And the way she had hit that boxcar…

With the creaking of wood and screeching of iron, that very boxcar Celes had splattered against rose into the air revealing Locke and Sabin underneath of it. Terra almost shouted her joy at their sudden appearance, but remained silent as she tried to work out how Sabin could lift something so big, bulky, and heavy like a train car by himself!

"Vargas!" Sabin growled as he effortlessly tossed the boxcar several yards to the side, where it shook the very earth with a quake. "Leave the girl out of this! This is between you and me now!" This prompted Muscle-Man to stand straight and send a glare in his direction.

Vargas? Why did that name sound familiar?

"Oh, my!" Vargas said with a giddy in-place dance. "Sabin, you look absolutely fabulous! It's been too long!"

Faster than Terra's eyes could track, Sabin crossed the gap between them and, with a powerful kick, sent Vargas flying across the field and into an overturned boxcar. He rolled his shoulders before falling into a ready fighting stance. He said with a snort, "It hasn't been long enough if you ask me."

Vargas emerged from the wreckage and wiped blood from his mouth, opting to lick it off his hand rather than wiping it off on what little clothing he wore. How gross! "Oh, Sabin! You wound me with your words!" he said with an overexaggerated swoon. "And you wound me with violence, full well knowing that I'm a lover, not a fighter!" He smirked and smashed a fist into an open palm. "And just for reference, sweetie, I go by Dadaluma now."

Sabin scoffed. "Have you lost your mind, man? We trained together with your dad! That makes you a fighter! And, Baldur's Gate, why the hell are you running a slavery ring?! If he knew, Master'd be rolling in his grave!"

This Vargas was that Vargas? The son of Sabin's mentor?! Terra didn't get a chance to think more on the subject as something suddenly forced her on her side. She caught a glimpse behind to see that Locke, with Celes in tow, had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere and was working on removing her binds.

Vargas giggled. "That sweet old man… If only he had seen the bigger picture! I'd really rather not fight, pumpkin. I've got important Imperial business to attend to."

"Imperial business?!" Sabin said, enraged. "That's what this is about? Blood money?!"

"Oh, heavens no! Just money! The sight of blood just makes me faint!" Said the man who not a minute ago had licked just that off his hand.

"I bet you used Ultros as a cover to leave the dojo."

"Here's a tip, sweetie. Always get some chump to do your dirty work."

Both Sabin and Vargas bum rushed each other to let loose in a highly choreographed fast-paced dance. Terra lost interest in watching punches and kicks the moment the ropes holding her to herself loosened enough she could break free. She turned her attention to Celes and tried bringing forth a healing spell. Nothing happened. No light appeared. No wounds closed up. It was fire magic all over again.

"You okay?" Locke said from beside her.

"I'll be fine once I know that Celes is out of danger!" Terra said. If her panic showed, Locke made no mention of it. She had to heal Celes! She had to! They were too far away from the nearest town for conventional medical science.

With a huff, she closed her eyes and tried again. Her mind's eye saw the bright blue-white light envelop her hands. It saw gashes and cuts mending together, bleeding ceasing, bones resetting and combining to form one. Bright blue eyes then snapped open and expressed gratitude with a smile and a kiss.

"So, uh, is something supposed to happen?" Locke said, breaking the illusion.

Terra's eyes snapped open, allowing tears of frustration to rain down her cheeks. Celes was still unconscious and injured. Again, nothing had happened. She growled and violently tried ripping the metallic collar from her neck. Unsurprisingly, all that action did was give her a neckache. She said, "This bloody stupid-arsed thing is sealing my magic somehow!"

"Let me see it," Locke said as he leaned in close to inspect it. "Looks like the locking mechanism's in the back."

At Locke's insistence, they arranged themselves so that Terra could keep an eye on the nearby fighting and alert him in case of close-quarters danger. She held on to her ponytail to keep it out of his way and resisted the urge to let anxiety yank it out. The last thing she needed was to tug herself bald.

Nearby, Sabin and Vargas were evenly matched. For every one of Sabin's attacks, Vargas retaliated with a mirror image. It was like watching them fight distorted reflections.

It didn't take long before Terra's interest waned once again and anxiety turned her back to Celes. The longer Locke took to remove the collar, the harder it would be to restore Celes, that is if she could restore her at all. She prayed to Ifrit that those shallow breaths weren't quickly becoming the last. If that happened… "Locke," she said in a quiet plea, "please hurry!"

"I'm picking as fast as I can!" he said. "This is the most complex lock I've ever encountered!"

"Heads up, guys!"

No sooner had Sabin given his warning, a dagger impaled itself into the ground between Terra's knees. She squealed and shifted back into Locke, prompting him to whistle in her ear. "That was close," he said, the surprise in his whisper evident like a behemoth in a closet. Another dagger whizzed past and landed somewhere behind, prompting the color to drain from his face. "This jackass throwing daggers at us isn't helping either!"

Sabin took a kick to the jaw and came flying in their direction. Terra cried out and braced herself for an impact that ultimately never happened. Somehow, he had managed to right himself mid-air and came to a skidding halt close enough that Terra could make out individual beads of sweat on his shoulders and the tiny scratches of wear and tear on Celes' blade strapped to his back. He snapped, "You guys can step in to help out at any time."

Before Terra could make an excuse, he was back in the fray not only against Vargas, but Vargas and several of his lackeys as well. Where the hell had these guys come from?

Another dagger came flying and went wide, nearly striking Celes' look-alike. "Is he still throwing crap at us?" Locke said.

Terra ignored answering the obvious and instead yelled out, "You have anything else you want to throw at us, you jerk?!" Something soft struck her in the face, possibly her reward for losing her temper. She squealed and ripped it off, just in case it was a spider or something equally creepy and crawly. Ew! Ew! Ew!

However, Locke's cry of surprise and interest made her consider judging the object with her eyes and not just her sense of touch. Instead, of an overgrown insect, it was a pair of gloves and, based on the runes glowing on the cuffs, they were relics imbued with the power of magic, much like her own bracers.

Locke leaned past and immediately snatched them from their resting spot on the ground. "Charms to aid in deft hands, sneaking undetected, and luck," he muttered. "I think this'll do it!"

Terra had almost chastised him for halting his lock-picking endeavors, but a blinding flash of rainbow and a sudden weight in her lap made her think otherwise. Resting peacefully on her thighs was that damned magic collar. Her hands and arms, now covered in pinkish-whitish fur, had lost their fleshy, Doman-doll glow. A tail swished excitedly behind her, broadcasting her emotions like a brightly lit smile. She no longer felt cut-off from the world; she was coursing with power. It was magic!

"Terra!"

At Locke's demand, Terra looked up in time to see a dagger flying straight for her nose. Her first thought was to scream in surprise. Her second thought was that she needed to stop it somehow. As if it were second nature, she threw up a hand and, with a flash of white light, unthinkingly did just that. The dagger, mocking the laws of physics, gravity, and time, had stopped in midair mere inches from her face.

She gingerly poked at the sharp tip with a finger. "I think I stopped its time," she said in awe.

Locke poked at it as well before turning to her in surprise. "You… You can do more than just fire and healing?"

Healing?! Terra's care factor and curiosity on the matter dropped to zero as Celes' urgent care returned to the forefront. She spun on her knees and crawled over to where she lay, still barely breathing. Nothing was going to stop her now!

Magic fluttered around Terra's fingertips as she concentrated on curing Celes' wounds. This time she could feel it, like a light cool breeze coming in off the ocean on a warm summer's day or the warmth of being smothered by a mountain of phoenix down. No, actually, it was more akin to the feeling of hugging the one she loved and adored the most. Because of that, she poured her entire being into the task, ignoring everything happening around her until Celes suddenly shot up with a cry like a bewildered bat out of hell.

"Duck!" Terra didn't have enough time to react to Locke's warning before he collided with her back and painfully forced her stomach first into Celes' lap. A dagger whizzed over their heads and landed hilt-side upwards. "God damn, that was close! Oh, hey, Celes." The way he had so easily slipped from exasperated to casual was awe-inspiring.

"Uh, hi," Celes said with the hesitation of confusion.

Terra growled. Listen to these two greeting each other as if they had bumped into each other on the street. Before she could even ask if she could get up, Sabin came skidding to a halt nearby. "Vargas can go suck an egg!" he said as the dust settled. "Damn flunkies keep showing up to distract me!" He stood straight and cracked his neck before single-handedly removing Celes' blade from his back, twirling it above his head, and stabbing it into the ground. "Hey, Celes. I think this is yours."

Like an enraged lummox, Sabin was the first to bound back into battle. When the weight on her back melted away, Terra knew that Locke had joined him. With a pop in her spine and a cry of short-lived pain, she returned to her knees.

Celes silently took in her surroundings before jerking a thumb towards the battle. She said, "Who's the dickhead with too much rub-on tan?"

Terra bared her teeth with a growl. Vargas had hurt her friends. He had hurt all the other people on the train, ending the lives of some and inconveniencing others. To get at her, he involved innocent people. To get at her, he injured Celes. Both were enough to make her angry, the latter enough to make her blood boil.

"And who's this sheila that looks like… Sweetheart, you okay?"

Terra was going to make sure that he didn't hurt anyone else. She was going to make him bleed. "Support me the best you can."

"With what? Support magic?" Celes said with the tiniest hint of snark. "Sweetheart, I'm a tank, remember? I play in the front lines."

Terra stood and brandished her twin katana from her waist with one smooth, unbroken movement. The moment she pointed the tip of one at Vargas' head, flames burst out in dance all over her body. She growled, "I'll make you regret hurting Celes!"

Vargas, across the way, batted his eyelashes and blew a kiss. "Oh, please be gentle with me, big girl!" he pleaded with a hint of facetiousness. "I'm a fragile little flower!"

"Fragile, me bloody arse," Terra hissed before tearing across the battlefield. Initially, it had been a straight shot to the disemboweling of her target; however, road hazards suddenly appeared as if summoned by magic. The first came at her from the right, the slaver's sword poised to create two from one. The threat, not lasting very long, met his bloody end from one of her compatriots. The second came at her from the left in the form of a scythe-swinging maniac. She dodged the attack and, lacking the desire to deal adequately with the small fry, blasted him with fire and continued on towards her goal.

Upon reaching Vargas, Terra unleashed a war cry, and an all-out assault, two hits from up high, two from down low, two alternating from the left and right, followed by two roundhouse kicks starting with her left and ending with her right. All attacks missed as he bent at odd angles and blocked blows with his massive forearms. With a hiss of frustration, she tried again; this time triple high, triple left, triple right, a pommel strike to the gut, and a kick from the left. Again, nothing. The bastard dodged every single one of her attacks like a dancer in an obstacle course and giggled about it as if he were having fun.

Bloody shenanigans was what that was, and Terra Branford was in no mood for bloody shenanigans. She magically willed Vargas' gravity orientation to nothing, surprising him enough to get an opening. Quick as scared cat, she struck him in the stomach with a powerful pommel strike. With nothing holding him to the ground and air friction now a thing of the past, Vargas flew up into the air much farther than any attack or physics should have allowed.

Terra set her own gravity to zero as well and took to the air. She shot past her ham-beast of an opponent and, again, struck him with the hilts of her swords, this time coupled with a gravity bomb that increased the earth's pull by three-fold. Like a meteor, he shot back to the battlefield and landed dead-center of his group. The flunkies he hadn't personally hit were taken down by the flailing appendages of others. To add insult to injury, she willed a watermelon-sized fireball into existence and lobbed it towards the crater; a mushroom cloud of destruction soon followed.

Terra landed just outside the blast-zone and adopted a relaxed battle-ready stance. The battlefield had gone quiet during her descent. Most likely these gentlemen had never seen magic before and had stopped to gawk. Locke and Sabin had never seen her go entirely on the offensive. Hell, even Celes, that she knew, had never been privy to witnessing such destructive magic.

When the smoke cleared, she saw Vargas half standing where he had landed, covered in burns and his clothing and hair-tail singed and smoldering. His eyes narrowed in her direction as he took several labored breaths. "What are you?" he breathlessly stammered out.

Terra heard the movement on her right before she heard Celes' shouted warning. A single-handed parry and a swipe with the other felled her sudden opponent by separating his arm from the rest of him. A follow-up kick then sent him flying into Vargas, knocking them both to the ground.

Terra hissed. "I'm angry," she said with a growl. "Any other questions?"

"I'll get you for this insult!" Vargas said from his cowering position at the bottom of the dog pile. "You! You monster!"

Monster? Her? Perhaps she was. Covered in fur. Cat-like ears. A tail. Destructive magic that could level a mountain. There was no 'perhaps.' She was a monster, no bones about it. However, she didn't kill people on a whim or abduct them into slavery.

Terra snorted. "That's not a question. Try again."

Instead of responding like a civilized person, Vargas let loose a shrill, ear-piercing whistle. No sooner had its echoes dissipated, a MagiTek Armor crashed through a boxcar and had the civilians in its crosshairs. The threat, however, was laughable as in the hands of these amateurs the intimidating machine did not invoke the same fear. It was soon neutralized by the joint efforts of Locke's sneaky and distracting thief magic and an ice lance, courtesy of Celes.

Terra knew what this had been, a distraction. She didn't have to turn around to know that Vargas had disappeared. The wisps of smoke and the faint traces of ozone screamed of a used warp stone. Instead, she watched as her three companions continued rounding up the remainder of the slaver group, most of whom had decided that giving up without their boss around to protect them was the best course of action.

Terra wiped the blood from her katana and sheathed them with a sigh. So much destruction. So much fire. So many deaths. And still, she was no closer to understanding an important question. Who was the bigger monster? The monster who sought peace and equality or the human who killed and kidnapped for money?

Court Mage Kefka stormed his way into the Emperor's main chambers and accented his entrance by setting the two guards there aflame. "Outta my way, you worms!" he growled. He flicked his cape behind and watched with glee as a slight breeze blew the ashes of his victims behind him and down the hall.

The Emperor, from atop his throne, leaned back in a relaxed manner and steepled his fingers. He said, "I should guess, from that display, that specimens Thirty-One and One-Oh-Five-Three-Eight still roam free."

Usually, such a thing, setting people on fire, put a smile on Kefka's lips and a bounce in his step, but today… Today it did nothing to lessen the anger, the hate, he felt towards that big-boobed bimbo and her damn ragtag group of Returners. He hated her. Hate hate hated her! He loathed her. Just the thought of her and her stupid blonde hair made him want to bring the entire world to its knees! How dare she steal his assassin assistant from him! And those lowlife slavers, those dregs of society, that filth, how dare they even consider failure as an option!

"They had them!" he screeched as he sent a fireball careening out to the other side of the room to transform a maid into a pile of ash. "Those dumbasses had them, and they lost them!" No loss there. She had been a Returner sympathizer anyway. If the Emperor had been upset with this, he didn't show it. He probably wasn't; there were plenty more girls in the slums to replace her. "Son of a submariner! This is why we can't have nice things! I want nice things, dammit!"

"Think of this as just a small setback," the Emperor said with the slightest hint of a smile behind his bushy beard. "Stay on par with the plan we discussed." He laughed, the sound reminiscent of a monkey throwing barrels down flights of stairs in a half-built skyscraper. "In fact, it might be time we tapped our good friend Professor del Norte Marquez."

"Cid?" Kefka cackled like a rusty farmhouse screen door rattling in the wind. "The worrywart? The meddlesome meddler?" He sniggered once more. "Oh, he won't like that."

"Worry not, dear sweet Kefka," said the Emperor. "Don't forget that we have methods of…persuasion. Now, why don't you head down to the MagiTek Factory and fetch Cid? He and I have much to discuss."

"What? Me? Worry?" Kefka licked his lips as he rubbed his hands together like a merchant with the better end of a crooked deal. "Consider it done, my liege! I'll see that our plans won't fail even if I have to beat that meddler into submission."

Terra had gone missing again.

Celes sighed and tried her best not to get discouraged as she searched ruined boxcar after ruined boxcar. Just when she thought that Terra had finally gotten to a point where she could accept herself for who she was, Vargas and his goons had put ideas into her head. That bastard and his off-handed comments. The next time he showed himself he was as good as dog food. No, he wasn't good enough to feed to any animal, domesticated or not. He was good as dead.

From a distance, laughter filled the crash site as socialite, Dream Oath actress, and Celes' very own look-a-like, Maria Scherwiz, flirted awkwardly with Locke. It was cringeworthy watching someone who looked like herself, yet wasn't, hit on a man. Locke didn't seem to mind; what man wouldn't? For Celes, it had been like looking into the life of one of her alternate universe selves. The similarities ended with looks, thank the gods, and it was infuriating knowing what she sounded like as an uneducated backwater hick.

Celes stopped at a doorway and hesitated before shoving the broken door aside. To think that, having never seen the woman, she had at one-time idolized Maria for her singing ability; The Dream Oath was her favorite record after all. And yet for a complete one-eighty, all it took was one look at a mirror image and the sound of her natural Kohlingen-accented speaking voice. Did that superficial judgment make her a bad person then? Or perhaps it hurt because Celes saw in her doppelgänger what shecould have been.

With another sigh, she entered the smashed boxcar and, once her eyes adjusted to the dim light, found Terra in a heap by the bar and surrounded by a slew of empty booze bottles. Of the ones not broken, it was surprising that any of them had even survived the violence of crash. It was even more surprising that Terra had turned to alcohol and consumed so much of it in such a short period of time.

Celes knelt beside and did her best to smooth out a few of Terra's stray bangs. "What are you doing in here by yourself, sweetheart?" she said.

Terra hiccupped before looking up, the movement slow and stilted. Her eyes, generally filled with the spark of innocence and life, were dead and dark. "I don't want the world to see me," she said, barely above a whisper. "'Cause I don't think they'd understand."

"Understand what?"

"I'm broken. I'm a monster."

Celes smiled and wiped away a tear that had fallen from Terra's eye. "You're not a monster, sweetheart. You're not broken, either."

"I am so," Terra said before hiding her head between her legs. "I am a monster. I saw the fear in his eyes. I've killed people without a second thought."

"Stop it! You're not a bloody monster, hey," Celes said. She sat back on her feet and rubbed her arm in the hopes that it would make her feel better. "If killing people in self-defense makes you a monster, then what the hell am I?" Unsurprisingly, it didn't change her mood at all, not as long as that tiny little stain on her past lurked behind her; it was the heaviest regret of them all. "Maranda's a smoldering ruin because of me. None of those people deserved what I gave them."

"But…" Terra sniffled and wiped her tears away with the side of her hood. "But monsters look like cats and kill people with fire." She took a drink from the bottle in her hand, vodka it seemed, before slurring, "And gravity. You have none of those."

Celes sighed once again, this time allowing her discouragement to smother her face with her palm. This conversation was on a never-ending loop. It started the moment Sabin had taken several Jidoorians with him to the city to fetch a rescue crew, and nothing seemed to break the cycle. Of course, alcohol was now involved, so the chances of a break were slim. "Terra, c'mon. Enough of this."

"I destroyed Doma – a country I don't even remember! And Narshe! I nearly killed you in Narshe!" Terra tearfully said. "How…? How can you look at me and tell me I'm not a monster?" She yanked at the fur on her chest. "I mean, just look at me! Just look at me! I don't deserve your praise! In fact, I..." She sagged even further to the floor before taking another drink from the bottle in her hand. "I wish those slavers had killed me."

Celes growled. How dare he! How dare he make her say such awful things like that! She slapped the bottle from Terra's grip to send it soaring across the room, where it shattered against the wall in an explosion of glass and liquid regret. Terra, shocked by the sudden attack, only stared wide-eyed.

"Don't you ever say anything like that again!" Celes said under her breath. "Real monsters kidnap people and sell them into slavery. Real monsters take advantage of a person's weakness for their own personal gain. Real monsters attack others when they're unable to fight back. You might look like a bloody cat, but you're the farthest bloody thing from a god damn monster!"

"Celes…" Terra's tears increased in intensity as her entire body quivered with sorrow. She, then, dove into Celes' arms and buried her face in her bosom. "I can still feel their hands."

"It's alright, sweetheart," Celes said as she lovingly cradled her charge and rested her chin on her head to absent-mindedly watch the sunset through the windows. Finally, something other than the monster Vargas had put in her head. Granted, it was another monster entirely, but at least it was only a shadow of what could have been. "They can't get you anymore. I saw to that, remember? So, cheer up, okay?"

Terra nodded before separating the two of them enough to give Celes a brief tear-filled kiss on the cheek. Her crying subsided as they settled into this awkward kneeling embrace. "Is the sunset pretty?" she mumbled. How strange that she didn't take the opportunity to look for herself.

Celes whispered, "Not as pretty as you."

The compliment met only silence. However, actions spoke louder than words; Terra's hug grew tighter as she buried her face deeper between Celes' breasts. Celes, of course, found her thoughts traveling back to that moment, before shit had hit the proverbial fan, where Terra had freely admitted her desires. The memory was warm, intoxicating, and slightly bittersweet. Had it actually happened or had it been the fevered delusion of an unconscious mad-woman?

"Terra?"

Terra didn't verbally respond, but the slight movement she made with her head told Celes she was at least listening. It was better than nothing.

"Yesterday, before everything happened. Did we…share a moment? Or was I imagining things?"

The sun dipped below the bottom edge of the boxcar's windows, washing out colors and sending the room towards perpetual darkness. With the silence driving her mad, Celes stared out at the reddening sky as she patiently waited for a response. Eventually, as the sky renewed its red to purple and the stars popped into view, an answer came; she felt Terra's lips press against her own. They were warm, wet, and salty from tears, but it was right.

They were far from the safest place they could call home, stranded halfway between Kohlingen and Jidoor, and sought shelter in a wrecked boxcar that could collapse at any moment. The present situation was less than ideal, but at least it allowed for the warmth in their hearts to grow.

^[1] Billy and Betty Bogan are derogatory slang terms used predominantly in Vector to describe wild country folk; Billy Bogan for men and Betty Bogan for women, similar to Figaro's Randy and Racquel Redneck. The general usage is towards country people who call tank tops 'wife-beaters,' drink beer at six in the morning in place of coffee, leave dead chocobos suspended on concrete blocks on the front lawn, and use over-the-top misplaced faith in their religion and/or country as an excuse for some of their quirkier behaviors.^[return]

^[2] See Terra's Theme.^[return]

^[3] Easter is a holiday celebrated the world over. Families get together, eat chocolate, drink ale, argue politics, and watch the local rival sports teams pat each other affectionately on their butts. This tradition was started by a Moogle named Easter who supposedly had become trapped in a Narshean cave before Narshe had become a thing. After three days, Easter freed himself by berating a sasquatch into servitude. How chocolate, politics, and pats on the butt came about because of this event, one will never know.^[return]

Chapter Text

"What do you mean you don't serve my kind here?" Celes glared down at the stupid fancy suit, top hat, and monocle that just so happened to contain a snobby bartender within them. Her hand rested on the hilt of her blade in case the need to smack smug frowns from lips arose. Since when did bartenders dress like they were peanut peddlers? For that matter, since when were taverns clean, well lit, and shiny with fresh polish? Celes had never seen such a thing. Even the high-class taverns in Vector were dives compared to this. Was this something new or just something that happened in Jidoor?

"Ah, yes. I do apologize profusely, ma'am," the drink wrangler snarked in a rather boorish manner. "However, if ma'am had bothered to read the sign in the window, ma'am would have come to an equivalent conclusion." This prompted stuffy and stilted guffaws of 'Ho ho!' from some of the other men behind their tall top hats and gilded pocket watches.

Damn rich class. A bloody bottle of rum and a quiet corner to spend with her friend was all Celes asked. Not even her identical appearance to prima donna Maria Scherwiz helped either of them to wet their thirsts. It was her Vectorian accent that gave her away. She was sure of it.

"I do say, is that a woman in our tavern requesting rum?" asked one top hat. "And a Vectorian one at that?"

"I declare, sir! Rum is a man's drink!" A short egg-shaped pocket watch cleared his throat with a harrumph loud enough to rattle the glass-paned windows open. He thumbed his lapels with an air of self-important arrogance. "Has she gone mad enough to believe that she is a man? The nerve! A woman's place is in a man's kitchen or on her back in a man's bedchambers! I shall have a letter drafted by my servant informing her of my displeasure."

"The nerve indeed! To claim a resemblance to our jewel of Jidoor! How absurd!"

Sexist, classist, elitist pigs! The lot of them! She wasn't going to be a domestic indentured servant ever, and she certainly wasn't going to take that lying down! Celes had wanted to ice-smash the disgusted looks off their faces and revel in the fact they had been bested by one belonging to the gender they held in disdain. She would have done so, broken their kneecaps, and made off with a bottle of rum but a light touch and disapproving furrowed eyebrows had stopped her.

"Celes, they're not worth it," Terra pleaded softly. "Why don't we go see the rest of the city?"

Celes gave her best angry glare to the room for a single self-satisfying moment. It felt almost as if she were dealing with mentally disabled Imperial soldiers once again. Bloody children! "How about you take your displeasure and shove it where it'll cause you the most displeasure?" she said with firm softness before turning about-face in a show of her militaristic background. She slammed through the heavy wooden door with the scrambling Terra in tow. Even in the street, she could hear the rich men coughing and sputtering in disbelief.

A squeak called out to her, "Did… Did you just tell them…?"

"To go fuck themselves? Yes. In the most eloquent way I could think of."

"Celes!" Terra wasn't too happy. Celes based this on the tone of her groan and the fact that Terra had stopped her from storming any further into the city with a single hand. If she had been anyone else that hand would have been broken. "You can't just go around being mean to people because they won't give you booze!"

"It was either that or I ice-smashed them for being dicks," Celes said rather flatly.

"Okay. Then why are you still gripping your sword…?"

"Because I need a god damn drink and not one arsehole in this shithouse town will give me one!"

This had been Celes' first actual taste of Jidoor, the city of the rich and supposed artistic, a city sprawled with mansions and castle-like structures and home to the opera on the range. It was a city of its own where taverns posted signs on the doors that read, "Patrons must have X amount of gil in overseas trust funds to drink here," where X represented some astronomical figure that Celes didn't think was possible. She had read the sign. She was neither stupid nor was she illiterate. She had chosen to ignore its warnings on the chance it had been a Fool's Day prank. If anything, she had been a silly sod for thinking that to be the case, especially considering the fact that holiday was another six months away. She also would have accepted being labeled as desperate.

She really needed a drink.

The group had arrived in Jidoor two days later than they had planned and had spent a further two days being interrogated by the watch. Maria had been a godsend in that regard by offering them a place to stay, by way of her sizeable stately manor, as a thank you for saving her and everyone else who had survived that attack on the train. By far, she was a huge contrast compared to most of the other citizens they had encountered. Of course, Maria was from Kohlingen and only living in the city due to work. Bless those Kohlinger country bumpkins. They may well sound unintelligent, but at least they were friendly and served up the grog when money found its way on the table.

Also, there was one two-part question for which there was no answer: If Jidoor was known as the Art Capital of the World, where the hell were the artists? Did the city get its nickname from its residents owning all the art in the world?

Celes didn't like the city of the rich, and it wasn't just because the taverns wouldn't serve her her much needed fix of booze nor was it because they treated her like a crab wielding a large kitchen knife. "Oh! A woman with a sword! How adorable! Will you be making dinner for us?" The city as a whole was too rigid and stuff-shirted for her own liking. She imagined there would be much too much deadly sleight-of-hand politics in a place like this. "Scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours. Otherwise, I'll show your wife proof that you've been sleeping with mine." She shuddered at the thought. She had seen too much of that in Vector. To think that another city/state in the world was headed down the same path.

In short, Jidoor was full of assholes with money and Celes couldn't wait to leave it all behind.

Terra dragged Celes about the cleanest city in the world^[1] to take in sights ranging from stately stone-walled manors the size of Figaro Castle, universities with tall spired towers, museums with big round columns, and ivy-covered auction houses that refused them entry purely in part of their tired and travel-worn appearances. The only things in the city they had been able to look at without prejudice had been the perfectly polished cobblestones in the street. They were polished a bit too perfectly if anyone bothered to ask her; it was almost as if chocobo shit refused to fall to the ground here.

Celes scoffed at this turn of events, a former Imperial general staring at the ground for a 'date-like' activity with a former MagiTek Knight. Is this what they had been reduced to? The fact that the two of them had a hand in saving the town's citizens seemed to mean nothing to anyone. If this had been anywhere else, parades would have been held in their honor.

They also would have been a served a damn drink.

It wasn't long before they finally found a shop on the city's outer fringes that agreed to serve them on the condition that they remove their boots. A strange request, but if it meant getting served then whatever. Hopefully, this meant that she wouldn't have to strip to her knickers in the city center to net herself a bottle of rum. She didn't want to do it, but she was certainly prepared. On the plus side, the carpeting in this shop was so shaggy and super-soft that it felt like foot heaven.

It was here that Celes gifted the squealing Terra a pair of miniature moogle earrings made of painted glass. This was all done in hopes of making her less likely to demand further investigation of a city that wanted nothing to do with them. It also just happened that this gentleman had no problems parting with a few bottles of booze. Thank the gods! She didn't even wait before taking her first several breathless gulps. She drank a third of the first bottle right there in the shop, much to the mortification of all parties present.

Armed with a mighty hiccup, Celes was now as centered in the world as she could be.

Once they left the store to make their way back to Maria's, Celes made a mental note to kill a few extra monsters on their return to Figaro and present the pelts to a local watch. She felt funny spending Figaro's taxpayer money on frivolous things not related to their journey, despite Edgar's insistence to the contrary. "Consider it a gift, my dear Celes!" he had said with a wink and waggle of his finger as he had escorted them out of the castle. "Contrary to what you may believe, you are a daughter of Figaro, and we take care of our own!" That magnificent bastard. She hated him and loved him to death at the same time.

Still, she felt funny about it. Money made the world turn. This was equally true if not more so in Jidoor, an idea supported by the fact that the middle and lower classes of society had been forced to move to what was present day Zozo. That was what the gentleman running the fringe shop had told them, at any rate; it also explained the apparent lack of artists. Terra hadn't seemed to care about the dark splotch on Jidoor's history or, more likely, hadn't understood its meaning. Celes, on the other hand, found that the elitist classism reminded her too much of Vector, which explained why she felt uncomfortable the moment she set foot here.

Here in Jidoor, those with all the money literally pushed away those who had helped them accumulate that wealth, a direct parallel to Vector's Midgard and Silius sectors. In Figaro, the brothers Figaro were the richest in all of their desert kingdom and its subordinate commonwealths, yet neither saw it beneath them to mingle with even the poorest. Hell, the king's best friends were a common thief and a disgraced Imperial general.

In Vector, Celes herself had briefly joined the circle of high-class Silius socialites the moment they had made her general. She hadn't fit in for many reasons beyond just being socially awkward. During that time, she had no one to call friend other than Terra (who had disappeared) and Edgar (who was usually too far away). Self-reliance had been her lonely way of life as there were too many rules to remember regarding conversation, clothing, and even the damn dinner table. To save her sanity, she had found it necessary to find solace in the bottom of a bottle and blatantly ignore everyone within the same tax bracket unless she had no choice, i.e. Kefka.

There was no doubting the moment that damn clown had attempted to have her killed the Gestahlian Empire would have absorbed all of her assets. It was something she'd have to look into if she ever made it back to Vector, not that she was eager to do so. The Empire had left a bad taste in her mouth. She'd be happy never returning to that polluted, smog infested rat-hole no matter how much she still considered it home. While she had no actual home at present, she did not doubt that Edgar would pull strings to get her something in Figaro. As long as there were air conditioning and a nearby tavern, that would suit her just fine.

And then there had been Terra further complicating things by crashing back into her life in more ways than one. At the thought, she tightened the grip she had on Terra's slender furry hand. A shy and reserved smile shot back at her and filled the air with that lovely intoxicating purring. A soft, thin tail wrapped itself around her waist when she allowed Terra to squash herself as close as she could.

"You okay?" Terra said. "You've been awfully quiet."

Celes couldn't keep her smile or the fire in her cheeks at bay. She nodded an affirmative and blurted out an apology. "This place reminds me so much of Vector. It just got me to thinking." She offered her open bottle of booze to the woman on her arm. "Care to join me in forgetting the past?"

"I don't need alcohol for that, but I can't say no," Terra said as she snatched the bottle from Celes' hand as she knocked back an impressive amount of the brown liquid. "So, what are you trying to forget? This stuff just seems like a bad way to go about it."

Celes' smile faded to a frown as she retrieved the bottle. "Will you accept 'I don't want to talk about it'?"

A sly grin spread across Terra's face. "No, but I'll give you bonus points for asking."

"Fine," Celes said with a huff. She quickly wet her whistle with alcohol before passing the bottle back. "Being here just reminds me that…" She paused not to think about her next words nor because she had forgotten what she had been about to say. The words had jammed in her throat, causing a vocalized literary blockage that took forever to unclog on its own. "It reminds me that I have no money, no home to my name, nor a country to serve and swear my allegiance to." She halted their walking pace to envelop Terra into a tight hug. "You're all I have."

"It's okay." Celes felt Terra's clawed hands rub her back in a slow, soothing, and wonderful way. She couldn't even remember the last time she had received a back-rub. Actually, probably never. "You're all I have, too," said the whisper in her ear.

"I know, sweetheart, but I did have those things until a few weeks ago. And to have these arseholes remind me of what I don't have…"

"But I thought you were happy to be done with the Empire?"

"To hell with the Empire!" Celes exclaimed as she broke the hug. "To hell with Vector! To hell with all those arseholes, their fancy opium parties, and their damned blood money! To hell with Kefka and Gestahl! Fuck them especially because of what they've done to you! Leaving that place was the best thing I've ever done even if my hand was forced." She tried to look at Terra's eyes but was having difficulty. It was almost as if she were trying to see while underwater. All she could see was a blur of lavender, green, and red. Or maybe that wasn't a look of surprise Terra was wearing, but more her face had become coated with melty wax. "They spent my entire working career lying to me. But you know what? They raised me-- They raised us, so who knows how long they'd lied to us? I never thought we'd be friends again after Kefka took you away. I never thought that I'd smile more after losing it all than when I had it all. And all it took was an attempt on my life after I said that I didn't want to kill innocents anymore." Celes realized that her nose was also suspiciously running. Was she coming down with something?

"Celes?" The amount of concern in Terra's voice was hard to miss. It was like the broadside of a Jidoorian socialite's ass. It was there whether one wanted to see it or not and took up forty percent of the room. "Are you crying?"

Celes Chere? Crying? There wasn't time for crying or silly emotions. The world was too harsh a place for crying, especially for women trying to break the housewife mold. It was something else. Someone was cutting onions, or a piece of dirt had gotten in her eye. An eyelash. Allergies. Whatever it was, she felt Terra wipe it away from her face. That tight-lipped frown of concern forced an uneasy smile of her own. Despite it all, more raindrops continued falling to her cheeks. It was an oddity since there were no clouds in the sky.

"Crying is for the weak-willed and girly-girls," Celes said lamely. "I'm neither of those things."

Terra tilted her head in that adorable way she did, like a cat trying to figure out how to reach locked away food. "There's nothing wrong with crying," she said. "Even the best of us get upset sometimes, right?"

"I'm not crying," Celes barked as she wiped her face with a sleeve. "God dammit, I wish it'd stop raining on just my face."

Terra giggled in her little musical way, possibly the only musical bone in her body. She kissed Celes on the nose before taking her by the hand to lead her down the darkening street. "C'mon," she said, "Let's get out of the open and away from prying eyes."

The sun was just starting to rest on the horizon when they arrived back at Casa de Sherwiz. Celes and Terra were greeted once again by Locke and Maria's attempts at harmless dallying, which included drinking wine and watching the sunset. The flirting in question had been awkward to listen to (let alone watch), although not as completely one-sided as Locke had proclaimed when later asked. For Celes, it had been like watching an alternate universe version of herself drool stupidly over a man, a strange concept in and of itself. Also, she couldn't understand how anyone could drink wine. It tasted like bitter fruit juice without the sweetness.

Unlike wine, she had nothing against Locke. He was a good-looking fellow in a scampy sort of way – quiet, good-natured, and occasionally daring. She could partially see why Maria would be fawning over him. As a Kohlingener, he was the complete opposite of any boorish Jidoorian man she had ever met. Actually, scratch that. He was the opposite of any man she had ever met; he managed to be charming without being overly obnoxious about it.

Seeing those two together made Celes wonder if she and Terra looked like that with their shared lovesickness. Half-closed eyes, trembling lips, flushed skin, awkward jokes, awkward laughter, awkward shyness, just all-around awkwardness in a half-assed camouflaged attempt to swap bodily fluids. When realization thus hit like a ton of bricks, the idea of it was so embarrassing that numbing it to oblivion took the remainder of her opened bottle of rum.

"Oh, Mr. Cole! You do go on!" Maria said with an abrupt laugh. It would seem that they had missed the first half of the conversation.

"No, I'm serious!" Locke argued. "My father was the great treasure hunter Nathanial Drake Cole."

"Mah stars! The Nathan Drake?" Maria said. "Well, that certainly explains that charismatic charm y'all possess."

"Well, these things happen," he said coyly. "And I'm sure growing up in an opera house has done wonders for your beauty, of which you have plenty of. Rest assured."

This brought about laughter from the two and a subtle adjustment by Maria to reveal more of the cleft in the center of her expansive and impressive bosom. Celes wasn't sure if anyone else had seen it, but considering the size of those twin airships, it would have been hard to miss. Seeing this brought about a blow to her already weak self-image. Maria was so identical to her, especially in the size department, that Celes felt as though she were the one showing off her body even though the jacket she wore was locked up tighter than a bank vault on a public holiday.

The whole thing was a crock of nonsense, and while staying silent was, she knew, the correct action to take, it was not an action she could fully observe. She found herself snorting derisively as she and Terra, both with hints of inebriation, staggered past. If Edgar were here, he'd have some sort of thinly veiled teasing compliment aimed in her direction. Well, probably not. He'd be too glued to Maria's overly exposed chest to care.

Once they were out of earshot from the two nearly thirty-something teenagers, the wide-eyed Terra took the opportunity to whisper, "Boobs…"

Celes tapped a finger on her lips as they walked. "Didn't that old guy in Kohlingen say that Locke's dad was a farmer?"

"Booooobs…" Terra's complete disconnect from the conversation didn't register to either of them.

Nathanial Drake Cole had been a real treasure hunter, vilified by the Empire. Celes remembered reading about him in academy. The interesting thing was that most of the treasure he had made off with had been Imperial technology. If Locke were indeed his son, then that would certainly explain his knack for spying and acting as a saboteur for the Returners. However, that could just be a coincidence. Locke could just as well be blowing smoke to make himself look better in Maria's eyes. Hell, Locke Cole could just as well be an alias.

"Celes?" Terra said meekly, forcing Celes to drop out of her head. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Maybe."

"How come you don't flaunt yourself like Maria?"

The question, while a valid one, was something unexpected and enough to stump Celes into a brief silence. Eventually, she said, "Maria and I come from different worlds, sweetheart. More than likely, she grew up armed with a silver spoon and taught to get what she wanted all she needed to do was flaunt some skin and act cute. You and I were raised with silver swords and taught to fight for what we needed. There is no flaunting or acting cute in the military unless you want bloody dicks in your face day in and day out. This applies to life outside the Empire as well." She paused. "And I'll pass on that, thanks."

The frown on Terra's face told of either disappointment or of mulling over the answer she received. Eventually, her head cocked to one side, the tell-tale sign that she was trying to work out something puzzling her. She said, "Is that why you don't wear clothing like Maria?"

Celes tried holding in her laugh but ultimately ended up cackling like a lunatic. Knowing Terra this more than likely had been a serious question, the sheer irony of it humorous. Celes Chere? Dress in fancy low-cut dresses complete with lace that sparkled in the sun? With high heels and sparkly jewelry coming out the wazoo? Celes Chere dress like a woman dripping in feminine sexuality with no upper body support? She had no idea how Maria did it, but she certainly wasn't going to find out, something for which her already aching back was thanking her.

"Never in a million years," she said. "I'd rather burn the world to the ground than ever wear something that just barely covers or holds up these annoying huge-arsed saddlebags."

"I think you should," Terra said with a coy assertiveness. "You'd look so cute."

With a dismissive wave of the back of her hand, Celes said, "There's many a river to cross before that ever happens, sweetheart."

Terra shrunk into herself as they continued through the hallway, her shyness radiating out in thick waves. "Luckily you can freeze the water with magic to walk over it, right?"

"Terra Branford," Celes said, "If anyone's cute around here, it's you." It was at this point that she found herself once again with a Terra-like growth protruding from her arm and grinning up at her like a demented child. Celes sighed with a chuckle. "You silly bugger."

The group stayed long enough in town to finish their business with the Jidoorian authorities before they were on their journey again. They rode to the north by chocobo through the sprawling plains lands until the scenery transformed into the mountainous Asgardian Range on one side and the sparkling Nibelheim Sea on the other. At their rate of travel, Celes calculated they'd arrive at their destination within a day and some chump change. After that, who knew how long it'd take to find the esper? The only clue they had was the calling of its powerful magical field, a feeling echoed by Terra.

It was a sensation unlike anything Celes had ever felt before. The Narshean esper's field had just been background noise until it had corrupted Terra, at which point its anger had suddenly become prevalent and nearly overpowering. Then there had been the esper Odin in the forgotten castle, who had been lost behind Terra's own possibly because he had been pushing up the daisies for nearly a thousand years.

Celes tightly gripped the chocobo reins in her hands and stole a glance at Terra beside her, whose own magical field had changed from how she remembered it. In the past, it had felt static with few signs of oscillation, much like that of any other MagiTek Knight with which she had come into contact. Of course, that number was few and far between, but Terra's presently was the opposite of that, varying wildly and independently of her form. On some days, Celes could swear that Terra's mood projected through it. Although she had to admit, Terra's repertoire of spells and magical ability had grown stronger and larger respectfully over the last few weeks. Whether that was due to the ancient tome her nose was always buried in, or the cat form was unknown. Whether or not any of this affected her magical field was also unknown. There were no answers, only speculation.

While Celes strongly theorized that Terra was an esper and didn't realize it, she failed to make mention of this to anyone, most of all to the person in question. That girl had a hard enough time trying to fight off the idea that she was a monster, so how could it be approached without causing severe psychological damage? "Say, sweetie; you know how I keep saying that you're not a monster? Well, you're not, but I think you really might be. But I just want to reiterate that you're not even though you are. Understand?" As if that'd go down well. She'd probably get five across the eyes and a blackened ass as a response.

Wide-eyed with surprise, Terra looked over herself before turning her attention to Celes. "Why are you staring at me?" she said. "Is there something on my face?"

Celes, embarrassed that she had failed to realize that she had been staring, dismissed those concerns with a wave of her hand. In a gruff tone, she said, "I've told you before, stop being so beautiful and I'll stop bloody staring." Terra responded by giggling shyly and coyly trying to act uninterested. Celes now knew better, but still struggled with the idea of openly flirting with Terra. The fear of rejection was ever present, albeit locked in a closet with a faulty latch.

From behind, Locke groaned so loudly that Celes could almost hear his eyes rolling in his head. Terra turned in her saddle, her tail swishing happily from side to side, and said cheekily, "Groans the man who spent nearly four days flirting with Celes' girly clone!" She then made kissy faces at him, which further added to Sabin's amusement.

"I swear if you mistake me for her and try to cop a feel…" Celes left the teasing threat open-ended. She felt it had more of an effect that way, especially considering that such an action against her would result in severe consequences for him.

Locke, now red in the face, held up his hands and reins in defense. "She came on to me!" he exclaimed defensively. His shrill tone almost sounded feminine. "Not the other way around! I swear!"

Sabin, with a wink, elbowed him in the ribs. "Seemed pretty mutual to me, buddy," he laughed. "Just embrace it. I certainly would! My ass would be singin' it from the rooftops!"

Their traveling to Zozo had carried on in much this same manner with nothing outlandish happening whatsoever. The conversation had been light-hearted and teasing, unfortunate for both Locke and Celes, one for getting involved with an opera singer and the other for looking like said opera singer and feeling self-conscious about it. Eventually, the bantering turned to Sabin's history with the slaver Vargas, or Dadaluma as he called himself.

"Any idea as to why Vargas would suddenly want to sell people into slavery?" Locke asked.

Sabin scratched his spiky hair while contemplating an answer. Before long he shrugged nonchalantly and responded with an uncertain "Money?" The confusion on his face was nearly comical despite the serious topic.

Locke scoffed before burying his face in his gloved hand. "Besides that."

"No idea. He'd always been an asshole anyway. Maybe he just figured out a way to be an asshole and make money off it?"

Unsurprisingly, it came back to money. Money tied to slavery was the single worst concept that mankind had ever created. Those two went hand-in-hand with power. It was no wonder the Empire was involved; money and power were two of its favorite things.

"And I thought you said he died during the fight with Ultros," Locke continued.

"I didn't actually watch him die, you know. I just assumed he had. I mean, what're the chances of someone surviving after getting thrown off a cliff?"

Celes snorted and muttered, "I'd have assumed the same thing."

Regarding Vargas, the group was back to square one. They had questions, but no answers to how or why the son of the most celebrated martial artist in the world would stoop to such a deplorable act as slave trading. His connection to the Empire was even more troubling and just as unknown. Any reasoning or explanation that any of them could conjure would just be conjecture.

This situation did raise a red flag. Did the Empire use slaves for experimentation? Could Celes have been a product of such a situation? Could Terra? Did the two of them have parents out there who had given up on finding their missing children? It was a possibility that she couldn't rule out. She couldn't, no, wouldn't rule out anything where the Empire was involved.

To think that at one time she had been so full of loyalty to the Empire. Now she wanted nothing more than to watch it burn to ash from which no living thing could rise.

It started raining when they arrived at Zozo. It wasn't a normal rain. It wasn't even that particular rain that gives the air that pleasant fresh smell of wet earth, wet wood, and a hint of ozone – that refreshing scent air freshener and candle makers try to recreate and fail at miserably. This was that cold, dark, and dreary sort of rain that chills one to the bone, depresses one to the point of eating several boxes of chocolate, and leaves one feeling much like how a wet cat looks. Terra certainly felt like the latter and wanted nothing more than to curl up in a fortress made of fluffy pillows surrounded by a moat of extra thick blankets. Unfortunately, she quickly realized that she wouldn't find that here in this miserable looking… Town? City? Hovel? Celes had come out with the term 'hellhole.' Although based on the smell coaxed out by the rain, Terra would have gone with 'public toilet.'

She understood now why FireBeard had opted to send her here with support. Not only did the place look dangerous, but did as well the few people they had seen. And these were a strange lot. As soon as they had entered the hellhole proper, one seedy gentleman had approached them to declare, "I dunno 'bout you folk, but I shore as heck ain't never heard of no Zozo! But the people in this place are so gosh darned great! I love it here!" He, as quickly as he had come, then wandered off to harass some ladies with strange-looking gravity-defying pointy hairstyles of multiple colors in a nearby shop.^[2] What had been the point of that? It left Terra bewildered. And those crazy pointy-haired ladies had given her the creeps as their eyes never stopped following them until they rounded a building to take refuge from the rain under a fire escape.

Not long after entering what passed as downtown, Celes sent Locke into the wet, decomposing urban jungle to scout for possible traps or bad guys to avoid. Nobody really wanted to fight in the rain. It was too moist for such shenanigans.

"I don't like this place," Terra grumbled.

"Now, aren't you glad we came with you?" Sabin said with a smirk.

Without a doubt she was, but she had trouble vocalizing it. Instead, she flashed him a weak grin as she pulled her hood tighter.

Finally, after what had seemed like hours, Locke returned to give Celes a rundown of the city. According to him, it was smooth walking all the way to the largest building in the center of the hellhole that Terra had outed as the hiding place of the esper that was calling to her. Even on the fringes of the city, she could feel its magical tendrils trying to work their way into molesting and suppressing her magic. Despite that, there was no maliciousness in this magical field, unlike the Narshean esper. This was a like a developmentally challenged magical field – super strong, super friendly, and unaware of just how both it was. The closer they got to the skyscraper, the more Celes began complaining of headaches and the feeling of being watched. Both of which Terra readily agreed with.

They stopped in an outdoor foyer, just outside the once ornate but faded to years of neglect merry-go-round glass door. "Everyone, I have no idea what to expect, so be ready for anything," Celes said with her dominant hand cocked behind her head and resting on the hilt of her blade. "Terra?"

Terra felt the eyes of the group turn to her, which caused her to start biting her bottom lip in unconscious nervousness. "I don't know either. I just know that there's a powerful magical presence at the top of this tower." The magical tendrils were still trying to probe her mind, but not nearly as intensive as they had been earlier. Whether they had gleaned any information from her, she wasn't sure. She had never encountered magic such as this unless she counted Valigar-whatever. She didn't though. If this esper had wanted to take control of her it would have done so by now, she reasoned with herself. She still had free will, and that was a good thing.

They entered the building one by one and, after finding no one around, proceeded up the nearby dusty stairs.^[3] While smelling of time and mold, the rug lining the stone stairs appeared to be in pristine condition, as if never walked on by human boots. Terra looked behind her just to verify that the others were following and noticed that they were leaving boot prints in the thick layer of dust that revealed the carpet's vivid crimson color. It was a deep color and similar to the one that her form-hugging dress sported underneath its yellow and purple floral patterns.

After climbing several dozen flights of stairs with nothing out of the ordinary happening, they stopped to catch their breaths at a floor lined with closed doors that spread in two opposite directions. Terra leaned against a wall and doubled over to rest her upper half on her knees. Somehow this eased her ability to breathe despite the sheer amount of dust they were stirring up. It did nothing for the headache.

Nearby, Locke and Celes were bickering like asthmatic schoolchildren, but Terra paid them no mind. The magical buzzing in the air was as thick as the dust in the air. The further up they went, the more her head hurt, the more her eyes filled with double vision. She was confident that Celes' temperament was on thin ice for the same reason. The physical toll of traversing all these damn stairs surely didn't help either. Sabin seemed to be the only one undaunted by their surroundings. He just leaned against the wooden railing with his hands in his pockets, patiently waiting for everyone else to recover. Terra wished she had his strength, stamina, and carefree nature.

After resting for a few moments, they continued on their way. Climbing those stairs was torture. Terra's legs and the arches of her feet burned, her sides cramped, her lungs screamed for more air than she could possibly take in. She could thank all the dust for that. Her hair and body fur were matted with sweat and super uncomfortable in some areas, feeling almost like she was wearing a hot, wet, skin-tight body suit. The sheer amount of times she had sneezed from all the dust in the air made her back and shoulders hurt. The only part of her that didn't ache were her arms, which she had been using to pull herself along the dim, dusty railing. Her hands and arms were smeared with black from the dust sticking to her sweat-matted fur. It disgusted her to no end. She needed a bath and resisted the disturbing and disgusting urge to lick herself clean.

"How much farther do these stairs freaking go?" Locke complained in between wheezes.

Terra breathlessly blurted out, "Why don't you ask them?"

"I'm just saying; I hope this isn't one of those endless stairways--"

"Stop acting like a retard and just keep climbing," Celes barked. "You don't hear the rest us complaining."

Sabin, having surpassed the rest of the group, called out from the next landing, "Jeez, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you guys were a bunch of whiny kids."

"Oi! Terra and I are being mature about this, mate, and we're younger than the both of you." Celes' condescending tone was all too clear. Terra wanted to say something to chide her for it but was too winded and tired to do so. She just wanted to reach the top and breathe in some fresh air.

Sabin laughed and flexed his rippling arms. "You guys just lack discipline," he said.

Terra lost track of the amount of time it took them to reach the top. However, the moment Sabin popped open that fire escape door had been the most joyous moment in recent history and remained forever burned in her memory. She ran out onto the roof and allowed the cool, torrential downpour of rain to wash the sweat and dusty mud from her person. She laughed after breathing deeply what constituted as fresh air in Zozo. It wasn't princely fresh as it still smelled like stale urine with a hint of cheese, but it was certainly a better option than a dust-choked interior.

They were free of the dust and stairs, but magic still buzzed around them like a swarm of invisible insects. It crackled and fizzed loud enough that even Locke and Sabin commented on it. It was so thick that it caused her body fur to rise slightly with the prickling of static electricity.

At Celes' urging, Terra returned to focusing on the mission. At the center of the roof loomed what appeared to be a rundown penthouse suite of some sort. This had to be it. The esper was here, waiting for them behind the doorway, and all they had to do was cross and enter. To say that Terra was nervous was an understatement. To say that she wanted to run away screaming her head off in fear was overkill. She was located somewhere happily and nervously in between. She shared a concerned look with the rest of the group and discovered that their expressions (and possibly their thoughts) mirrored her own. No one wanted to make the first move.

Celes gestured toward the doorway, silently indicating that someone other than her should go first. Locke shook his head and immediately jerked a thumb in Sabin's direction, who, then, pointed to himself in confusion before realizing what this meant and holding his hands up in a defensive protest. Terra frowned when Celes rolled her eyes in her direction. She had just been chosen to lead the group.

Terra sighed. Leading yet again. She didn't like it. She preferred to follow; it felt more natural to her. But she supposed someone had to do it. At least if the magic in the air changed or moved, she could give advance warning. When she reluctantly nodded in agreement, the others responded with a chorus of similar silent actions.

As she slowly made her approach to the penthouse doorway, Terra couldn't help noticing that the vibe in the air changed. It had transformed from curious to almost… Welcoming? She had no idea how to describe it. Despite being wet, the exposed fur on her arms and legs was now standing perpendicular to her skin. She could feel the rest fighting against her clothing. It was a distracting, disturbing, and overall funny feeling. She briefly looked back to see that loose strands of Celes' hair had risen sky-high. Sabin's was ordinarily spiky, so no change there. Locke, unfortunately, now sported an out-of-place and hilarious-looking afro.

When Terra arrived at the door, she stared at the brass nob and hoped that it would open on its own. Sadly, this didn't happen. Just as she reached out to grip the nubby piece of metal in her hand, a blinding flash of light and explosion of thunder sent her careening into Celes' arms with a scream. The static and the magic in the air had lessened like air from a balloon. No longer did it feel like her fur was trying to escape from the confines of her skin. Of course, in a way she wished it had. She wanted to be normal again.

Pulling herself away, Terra exchanged a look with the bewildered Celes as if to say, "I'm okay now." She went back to willing the door open with her eyes. When she discovered that this method still wasn't going to work, she gripped the intricate brass nob in her hand and turned. She pushed on the door to force it open.

Nothing happened.

"I think it's locked," Terra said with a frown. She knew not why she was surprised, but she was just the same. She really should have expected this outcome.

Locke came up beside her and winked. "Not for long," he said. Terra stepped aside and watched him go to work with his lockpick. His tongue escaped the side of his tight-lipped mouth as he concentrated on swiveling one thin piece of metal around the keyhole while trying to slip another through as well. It was amazing watching his steady, unwavering hands work. Not long after starting the process, he popped the door inward with a smug expression. "What'd I say?"

Celes patted him on the shoulder. "Good job, thief," she said with a smirk. "Keep those skills up, hey. I might need you if I decide to go back to Vector to gather my belongings."

"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm a--"

"Nun, steht nicht einfach da!" declared a booming voice from deep within. "Ihr lässt den Wind rein! Kommt rein! Kommt rein!"

The esper knew they were there. And although the language was foreign to Terra, it sounded familiar as if she had heard it a long time ago. She believed she understood the gist of it all; the esper was beckoning them to enter.

Celes' hand immediately went to her blade's hilt. "Anyone have an idea of what the hell that was?" she said, her nervousness all too apparent.

Terra was the first to move from her position. "I think…" She paused to help Locke from his frozen crouched position. "I think he wants us to go in."

"Really?" he whispered. "It sounded more like he was angry."

Terra didn't bother waiting for the others to get over their shock. She slid past Locke and pushed the door fully open. This interior wasn't filled to the brim with dust like the others had been nor was it dully lit. Instead, the room was lined with bright candles of multiple colors. Books of all shapes and sizes filled an entire wall across the way. A roaring fire below a sizeable wooden mantle filled the room with friendly and enticing warmth. An iron kettle rested on a stand within said fire, presumably filled with tea or some other herbal supplements.

"Hello?" she stammered out as her eyes adjusted to the change in lighting. "I'm sorry. We don't mean to intrude. We just came to talk."

Her gaze then snapped to an individual whose appearance demanded attention. In a large, high-backed, comfy looking chair near the fire was the oldest man with the longest and whitest beard ever seen. It nearly touched the floor! She couldn't even tell where his hair ended and the beard began. Valleys, crevices, and discolorations of old age littered his face while his clothing, simplistic in the manner that it was a robe, was so garish in color that it hurt her eyes just looking at it.

He smiled at her and closed the thick book in his hand. "Erschreckt nicht. Sie müssen diejenigen sein, die ich die ganze Zeit gespürt habe," he said in what sounded like rolling thunder. It couldn't have been thunder, though. It came out of his mouth.

Terra stared at him, dumbfounded. This time, she had no idea what he had said and was even beginning to regret her earlier attempt at translation. "I… I don't understand," she squeaked. In response, the old man stroked his beard and hummed in thought. This was overwhelming. All the signs of the high amounts of magic coming from this old man were there, but he couldn't have been the esper. He looked too human. Valigarmanda had been a giant chicken. And Odin… Well, he had appeared as an armored knight on an armored steed, but he had been stone dead when she had met him. So, who knew what he had actually looked like when he had been alive. In summation, she didn't have enough information to generalize, but still. This old man wasn't an esper. It was impossible.

Terra heard the rest of her group stop behind her. "He the esper?" Locke asked in a whisper.

"I don't know," Terra whispered back. "I don't even know if he speaks Vectorian."

The old man laughed in a loud, boisterous, infectious sort of way. He rose from his chair, revealing his full height. In Terra's amazement, she realized that he had to have been at least three heads taller than her, not that she was very tall to begin with. "Of course, I can speak it!" he said as his beard and mustache turned upwards. "My apologies, little one. I assumed you spoke Esperian. For the time being, the four of you may relax. You are no longer in danger from that which is Zozo. And, Baldur's Gate, close the door behind you! It's drafty outside!"

Sabin, being the last one in, did as requested. "I always imagined that Zozo was dangerous," he said, "but we had little difficulty in getting here."

"Except for those damn stairs," Locke muttered.

The old man let out a rolling laugh before saying, "I can't help with those, but I did help you arrive here safely."

Terra felt Celes stiffen beside her. "Why? How?" she demanded in her icy demeanor.

The old man held up a long, crooked finger. While his hands were clean, Terra couldn't help but be slightly disgusted by the length of his nails. They were like daggers! "The second, I'm sure you have already guessed," he rumbled. "I'd be willing to guess it's why you are here. The first…" She suddenly felt his piercing eyes resting on her, daring her to flee from his presence. They were a similar piercing blue as Celes', vivid and attention demanding. Terra definitely wanted to dart away from this situation as quick as possible, but she highly doubted Celes would let her do so. Edgar and FireBeard were counting on her as well. "Tina, do you remember me?"

Tina? That wasn't her name. Did he have her confused with someone else? Terra looked to Celes to gather her opinion, but the other woman only stared at the old man with the wide eyes and stony frown that was Celes stunned. A hand did clasp around Terra's, giving her an esteem boost. "Do…do I know you?" she said meekly.

Celes, finally breaking free of her silence, lowered her hand from her blade hilt, but maintained her stoned glare. "You know who she is," she said flatly. It hadn't been a question. To Terra, that made all the difference. Celes felt that this gentleman knew something.

"Indeed," he said with a nod. "I recognized her magical field the moment I felt it explode a few weeks ago. Hence, why I allowed myself to be spotted as an esper and why I've been trying to call her here."

"You wanted her to find you."

"Indeed. And lucky for all of us my gamble paid off." His gaze returned to Terra, much to her embarrassment. "Now, little one, you seemed confused when I called you 'Tina.' Why is that?"

Terra swallowed the lump in her throat before turning to Celes for support. This man seemed friendly enough, but, for some reason, she was more afraid of him than she had been of Odin in the forgotten castle. "My name is Terra, but I really don't know who I am," she finally said in one large nervous verbal dump.

"Terra, you say? And you lack knowledge on your identity? Interesting. Very interesting."

Again, Celes tried dominating the conversation with her overbearing icy demeanor. "You know something, old man?" she demanded.

"Why, yes. I might," he said with a hint of sarcasm as he beckoned them into his living space. He gestured toward the area in front of the fireplace and took his seat in his comfy chair. "Come in! Do dry yourselves off! I shouldn't want the lot of you to catch colds, for goodness sake." Sabin took a position leaning up against the mantle, while Terra, Celes, and Locke took seats on the floor. "Now, my blonde friend, should you live as old as me you just might end up knowing something besides how to be smart with your mouth. And please, call me Ramuh."

After Celes had scoffed, Locke made the mistake of whispering to her, "If you live as old as him, I'd hate to imagine what your chest would look like." This action prompted her to backhand him over her shoulder with an unflinching, unamused expression on her face. Sabin guffawed loud enough at their antics that he could have woken the dead. Terra paid the distraction no mind, however. Ramuh was still staring her down.

"Remove your hood, little one," he said. "Let me take a good look at you."

Terra hesitated before doing so. She didn't mind Celes seeing her in this way, but she certainly wasn't particularly keen on showing her kitty self to Locke and Sabin or even this ancient old man. Ramuh leaned forward and "hmm'd" and "a-ha'd" several times before reaching out and placing a hand on the top of her lavender head. "Yes, I see," he finally said after moments of silence. "Terra, was it? I bet you're wondering why you appear as you do, correct?"

The thought had crossed her mind numerous times, but the only answer she had been able to come up with had been allergies to espers or some sort. Granted, it was a silly notion to assume that allergies would transform one into a bloody cat of all things. Terra nodded as best she could despite his daggered hand still resting on her head.

"Then allow me to impart some wisdom to help you control this runaway ability of yours."

Terra nearly cried out when she felt the same tendrils of magic that touched her earlier but in much greater quantities and force. She felt rushed and exposed, all of her laid bare for Ramuh to see. At the same time, however, nothing felt invasive. It all seemed friendly, warm, comforting, familiar. What could best be described as a vision of herself reverting to a human state appeared in her mind's eye. She was unable to accurately describe the whole experience at present (she had been too preoccupied) and had failed to explain it when later asked.

She heard several gasps of amazement before opening her eyes and seeing for herself. Ramuh removed himself from her to allow her to investigate. She was normal! No claws! No fur! Her hair was green once again! And-- She twisted to look behind herself. No tail! "I'm normal again!" she said with the stupidity of excitement. She latched on to Celes with a squeal and kissed her, much to Celes' dismay and Locke's and Sabin's amusement. Terra knew that Celes wasn't fond of public displays of affection (especially around men), but she didn't care. This was a cause to celebrate!

Ramuh laughed at her outburst. "To be fair," he said, "no matter which form you take you are normal. It is as much a part of you as your voice or your heart. However, you will find that your magic, strength, and speed are now limited as a human. Remember well the spell I just taught you to change back and forth, but use it sparingly if you wish to retain your identity. The more you adopt your beast form, the greater your lust for blood will become." He paused to pull at his beard with a wordless grumble. "Honestly, I'm surprised it hasn't overwhelmed you."

Bloodlust? Was that why…? Had that been why she had no issues killing? Had that been why some sick part of her had enjoyed setting soldiers and slavers on fire? Also, that form was a part of her? What the hell did that mean?

"Hold on, mate." Celes flipped a stray lock of hair from her eyes. "Did you just say that you taught her a spell? Is that what we just saw?"

The old man leaned back in his chair and, resting his elbows on the armrests, steepled his fingers. Terra couldn't tell if his grin was a standard grin or a shit-eating one. "Of course," he said. "To teach and learn spells by touch is an ability all of us espers possess."

To teach and learn…? So, by learning the spell that he taught her, did that make her a…? Was she a…? No. She couldn't be. She was human. She was infused with magic abilities stolen from espers. The Empire was responsible. She was a product of MagiTek… But if that was the case, then why had Kefka been…? "I'm an esper," she whispered with a waver. "That's why Kefka enslaved me."

"No," Ramuh stated with a shake of his head.

"Then what am I?" Terra's hands were shaking just as much as her voice.

"I suppose I should start at the beginning. For a very long time, humans and espers believed that they were incompatible together. Hence, the War of the Magi. Hence, we espers fashioned a realm for us to safely live. Espers disemboweled humans for peace. Humans enslaved espers to siphon out their magical abilities, much like your Empire these days. However, during the tail end of the war, we discovered that the two races were more alike than we had thought."

"Queen Frigg Asgard…"

The old man seemed surprised and pleased by Terra's interruption. "Yes. Very good. You know of her. And considering that I can feel Odin's faint magicite presence, you have found her remains. They've both been lost for centuries. How you found them, I won't ask, but this does make things easier. In fact, your angry friend here bears a remarkable resemblance to her, both in appearance and magical presence."

Celes' bitchy resting face immediately switched to that of surprise. "Magical presence?" she said. "And I'm not angry!"

Terra hushed Celes with a hand on her arm. "You mean her magical field?"

"In a sense," Ramuh said. "All living creatures sensitive to magic give off a magical footprint that is unique to them. Think of it as an aspect of personality that can be felt rather than seen or heard."

Again, Celes interjected. "Now wait a second, if I remind you of her that means…"

"I brought her into the world, much like I did Tina. I wasn't a highly respected esper sage for nothing. But we are getting off topic. Queen Asgard was a half-caste. Half-esper, half-human, born from the union of an Asgard prince and an esper humanoid female, both of whom have long passed. She had been the only one until Tina came along."

Terra mindlessly opened and closed her mouth, trying to form words. "I'm…a half-esper?" she eventually forced out. She waited to see if Ramuh would deny her query, but no denial happened. He instead nodded his head in agreement. She had been on the right track. The Empire and Kefka had wanted her because she was essentially a natural born MagiTek Knight.

Celes huffed and muttered, "I bloody knew it."

Terra looked to Celes in surprise before withdrawing into herself. Her closest and only friend had suspected it and never told her. She didn't know which hurt more, that or discovering that she wasn't fully human. Despite now knowing this, and validating her initial fears to a degree, there was still something she didn't know, a crucial piece of information. She knew what she was, but she still was no closer to knowing who she was.

Locke interrupted her thoughts with an observation. "So, you're basically saying that you're over a thousand years old?"

Ramuh nodded and grinned, which sent the crevices in his face cracking in different directions. "In human years, yes," he said. "The clencher is that time flows differently in our little realm. In fact, it practically doesn't. A time-stand-still, if you will. To further shock you, 'Terra' as you know her, was born in the Kingdom of Asgard during its final days."

She…was nearly a thousand years old? But… That was impossible! Terra's first instinct was to flee the room in tears. This information icing on top of the 'not-human' cake was too much to bear. She wanted to hide. She wanted to withdraw inside herself. She wanted to be alone. She lost track of everyone else in the room as her eyes flooded with tears. She became briefly aware of a hand squeezing hers, but all she could focus on were her own thoughts. Not only was she a monster, but an ancient one as well. "That…can't be," she hoarsely forced out.

"Do not fret, young one," she heard Ramuh say. "You may have been born a thousand years ago in this world, but you are still a young woman with the rest of your life ahead you." Terra refused eye contact and settled on weakly nodding in response. "How you came to be called 'Terra' I am curious about as I was there when your mother named you 'Tina.' In fact, the last time I had seen you, you had just started walking and could even say your name."

Terra shook her head and mumbled, "I… I don't remember…anything." She felt an arm embrace her and a hand rest on her thigh. Celes was trying her hand at being comforting. Honestly, Terra wanted nothing more than to bury herself in those arms and just hide from the world. Another part of her wanted to shrug the other woman off and to hell with it all. She couldn't decide what to do and remained sitting there with her eyes threatening tears.

"Terra and I were best mates growing up together," Celes said. "I can tell you that she spent a good chunk of this time in Imperial military hands as a soldier and then a slave to Kefka. What happened before I met her, I can't say. She always refused to tell me. And now… When I found her a few weeks ago, all she could remember was me. I even had to tell her what her name was."

Ramuh sighed and leaned forward in his chair. "So, you were captured… I had feared it," he said softly. "I had hoped that when the Empire had attacked the esper realm, you merely had been lost and raised by an unsuspecting human family." He sighed again. "If only I had gotten back to the portal sooner…"

Someone, probably Locke, said, "You said the Empire attacked. What happened?"

No, no more! She didn't want to hear anymore! She needed to be alone. She needed time to herself. Terra stood and fled towards the door. She heard someone calling out to her, but she couldn't respond. She was trying not to lose control of her emotions. She didn't want to cry. She wanted to be more like Celes, cool and collected. The problem though was that even Celes broke down and cried.

Disheartened, all Terra could do was run outside. Once there, she slid down the side of the penthouse wall to a sitting position where she could hug and hide between her knees. Her sobs flowed out in a raging torrent, her tears matching the rain pelting her and her cries of anguish overpowering the cracking thunder.

Terra Branford learned a lot this evening; all of it what she wanted to know, but none of it what she wanted to hear.

^[1] There was something suspicious about that declaration. No city was that clean.^[return]

^[2] If it could be called that. Despite the sign above the door marking it as an armory, Terra saw no wares in the store that they appeared to be selling. It was just the two ladies, a couple of empty chairs, a couple of empty stares, and hair that could slay dragons.^[return]

^[3] Terra also took this opportunity to shake herself free of water, despite the complaints from her companions.^[return]

Chapter Text

Celes watched the fire dance within the fireplace and tried interpreting something from it that made sense. Was it telling her that she had good fortune? Was it all a bad omen? Had she made any mistakes? Was there anything to learn from what had transpired? Sadly, nothing overly useful came. No answers surfaced. No ideas popped into being. Not even any inspiration welled up to draw upon. Only memories grew for reflection.

She would never have thought that the esper Banon had sent them searching for would turn out to be one who knew Terra, no less one who had brought her into the world. It was also surprising to hear that her theory of Terra's source of power had been on the right track. In fact, fate had decided to take things a step further: not only was Terra a half-esper, she had been born a thousand years ago during the War of the bloody Magi!

What had that old esper called her? Tina? Celes snorted. Terra always was and always will be Terra, but, then again, Terra hadn't introduced herself back when they first met all those years ago. Leo had done that when he had dropped her off at the academy. Maybe Terra, the old Terra, the one who had shyly peeked out from behind Leo's legs, had known all this information and had decided to keep it a secret from everybody. Because of that, this Terra, the one sobbing alone outside, had no effing clue and didn't know how to handle it when it dropped in her lap.

Celes massaged her frustrated temples. If only she had pushed harder to learn Terra's past, then she could have prepared the current Terra for this information overload. However, if the former Terra had possessed any of the answers and if she had freely shared such answers, would Celes had been able to share it at all with the present Terra? Ha! Probably not. She couldn't discuss specific aspects of their shared past no matter how hard she tried. Of course, her relationship problems were silly teenage nonsense when compared to a full-blown existential crisis. Some friend she was! She couldn't give Terra the much-needed comfort she deserved when it was needed all because she had trouble owning up to a harbored attraction, something that scared her just as much as she reveled in it.

Celes slumped forward with a sigh. It was that fear that drove her to be the worst to Terra she could be.

"Why don't you come back inside?" she had said with an outstretched hand and a smile that was more forced than comforting. "You'll catch your death of a cold out here."

"I want to be alone," Terra had said.

The monotone of someone drained from too much crying and thinking had been all too present and all too clear. For whatever reason, it had Celes seeing red. She had said harshly, "If you truly wanted to be alone, mate, you wouldn't be sitting in a doorway begging for attention."

Terra had just buried herself deeper into her knees with tight-lipped silence. She hadn't even shown any change in her facial expression, positive or negative. At the time, it did occur to Celes that she had probably been a little too harsh, but she had remained steadfast in neither defending or apologizing for her words. The rationalization at the time: Sometimes people needed to hear things they didn't want to hear.

It soon had become clear that a response was never going to come. Celes should have picked Terra up and dragged her inside but had been unable to force herself to do so. She also should have taken Terra in her arms and apologized with cuddles and kisses. However, she had failed to do that as well. She couldn't remember how long she had waited in the rain for one of them to make the first move, whether herself or Terra, but eventually nothing happened as if it were an emotional stalemate.

Celes regretted returning inside alone. She also regretted her reasoning at the time: If Terra wanted to feel sorry for herself in the cold hard rain like a dumb bitch, then she was going to fucking let her.

Ramuh had echoed such sentiments, albeit minus Celes's harsh colorful language. He had made it clear that Terra needed time to process all that concerned her. There had been more information he wanted to share with the group, but he thought it best to postpone that discussion until Terra's green-haired head was back on straight. "It is in her best interests," he had said. Celes hadn't been able to bring herself to ask if he had meant the postponement or leaving Terra to her own devices. It could have been both.

Speaking of the old man, Ramuh had retired long ago with murmurs of "Make yourselves at home." Locke and Sabin had hit their sacks soon thereafter, which left her alone and enthralled with thoughts of Terra and the fire's dance. How long had she had been sitting in front of this fire? Minutes? Hours? However long it had been, the thirsty flames had sucked enough moisture from her eyes that no amount of rubbing would correct the issue.

She regretted being as harsh with Terra as she had been. It had been unwarranted. She had to keep reminding herself that this Terra was not the old Terra. This Terra's initial response to nearly everything was to run, hide, and cry as if she were a child. She was getting better at standing her ground without the waterworks, enough so that Celes could at times forget that this Terra was a facsimile of the real thing. However, finding out that she was an esper, or at least half of one, had been too much for her to handle and any character built in the last few weeks had been thrown under the chocobo cart.

In this situation, the old Terra probably would have questioningly raised an eyebrow and cutely cocked her head to one side before shrugging the whole thing off. The old Terra rarely shed tears, especially in front of people. Of course, the old Terra wouldn't have been surprised by any of this. She probably had known it all already, but now… Now, no one would ever know for certain.

A wet touch on Celes' shoulder brought her out of her reverie. She didn't have to look to know to whom it belonged. She could tell from the presence alone – a saddened presence and one that made her heart ache. She disengaged from the fire to peer up at Terra, who was shivering so hard she was having trouble standing. Her hair was disheveled and so wet that the emerald green was nearly black as spades. Her dress was so heavy with moistness that it clung to her thighs and torso like cling film to wet glass. If she had tried to speak, her chattering teeth would have made it impossible. The most damaging of her appearance had been her blue-tinged lips and her eyes – swollen, bloodshot, and weary from tears.

Terra was a walking poster child for hurricane survivor charities. Or perhaps she was a living advertisement for the necessity of wearing a raincoat. Both were fine choices.

Celes stood and brushed waterlogged hair from Terra's face. "Oh, sweetie," she whispered. "You're soaked to the bone. We need to get you out of those wet clothes." In hindsight, neither one of them had thought to bring spare clothing with them. Terra was going to have to curl up sans clothing in a sleeping bag; it was a concept that brought a frown of disappointment. She deserved better.

Terra nodded and averted her gaze to watch the fire. If she had anything to say, it was left unsaid. If anything, her eyes screamed defeat. Suspicion ran high that this was more out of embarrassment and exhaustion than anything else.

When Celes was satisfied that there weren't any prying eyes around, she said, "Get undressed. I'll get a bedroll for you." She quietly made haste in grabbing not only Terra's bedroll but hers as well. If she was present in the morning, she could protect the nude Terra from Locke and Sabin's stares, not that they would on purpose. Neither were perverts like Edgar.

When she returned with the items in hand, she quickly realized that Terra hadn't moved. She just stood there, motionless aside from her shivering, and stared into the lazily dancing fire with a self-deprecating frown. At this juncture, Celes realized that she was going to have to take the initiative and remove clothing herself. Surprisingly, this went over with little fuss. Initially, she thought that Terra was playing hard to get on purpose, but that immediately committed suicide because of its ridiculousness. The poor girl had to still be in shock.

Celes quickly went to work removing boots and stockings. Once that was done, she then moved to peeling Terra's dress off over her head like a stubborn rubber sleeve, which revealed a roadmap of scarring. Breasts, stomach, sides, upper and lower back, no spot on Terra's torso had been spared. Celes couldn't help staring as she worked at slipping off sopping wet knickers. She had known of the existence of a handful of those scars, like those on her back, but had only seen them from afar at a quick glance. If they were painful, Terra never mentioned. If she were embarrassed by them, again, Terra never mentioned.

No one had to ask from where these scars came; it was easy to figure out. Kefka, that white-faced bastard was the one responsible either personally or from forcing Terra into a multitude of unnecessary battles. Celes couldn't wait to see him again. She had a six-foot long, eighty-five-pound blade that screamed his name.^[1]

On a positive note, at least Terra was starting to show some growth of curves to hide those ribs and hipbones.

Celes laid the sleeping bags out as close to the open fire as she dared and gestured for Terra to get cozy. She gave her a quick peck on the cheek before hanging the clothes on the various chairs around Ramuh's dining table. She felt funny about leaving underwear out for the world to see and hoped that everything would dry by morning. However, she knew that such things didn't seem to bother Terra; a blank stare rather than the expected look of embarrassment and panic usually followed the odd gust of wind that blew her dress up. It was enough to wonder if she would still observe society's laws regarding public decency if the world ever descended into anarchy. Still, if Terra wasn't going to be embarrassed, Celes would be for her.

Celes returned to the living room to find Terra still standing in the exact spot as before, except Terra now stared at her. This wasn't one of current Terra's usual timid, inquisitive, or star-struck stares, it was the stare of someone on the verge of an emotional breakdown. It was one of uncaring, panic, and a whole heap of who-knows-what-else. It had almost been like seeing the old Terra again.

Terra said, "Why didn't you tell me that you thought I was a monster?" It had been a barely audible whisper because of her chattering teeth.

"I didn't say anything because I wasn't certain and knew it would upset you. And Baldur's Gate, for the last time, espers do not equate to monsters." Celes lightly tapped Terra's forehead before brushing a wet lock of hair from her tired green eyes. "As far as I'm concerned, what matters is up here. Not your genetic makeup."

"…I don't wear makeup." Celes sighed and shook her head. This game again. It was one that Terra had always played, even when they had been children. Whenever Terra had a silly response, it meant one of two things: she was being facetious, or she was looking for reasons to remain upset. "And I'm old enough to be your great-grandmother times infinity."

It was too late in the cold, wet evening for such shenanigans and despite tolerating it to a degree, Celes was tired and sore enough that she lacked the patience to deal with it properly. "And?" she said short of snapping. "Am I supposed to be intimidated by that?"

Terra recoiled slightly before muttering, "…Yes." Tears started falling again, breaking Celes' heart. "I'm sorry. I'm being stupid."

Celes sighed and wiped tears from puffy eyes. "You were given some shocking news, sweetie," she said. "I think you're allowed a few stupid comments. And I'm sorry for snapping at you. You've had me worried. Plus, I'm tired and cranky."

Terra nodded without enthusiasm but tried a smile regardless. "We can be tired and cranky together."

"Actually, I've still got a bottle of booze we bought from that shop in Jidoor. I can go grab…" Celes halted her speaking when Terra embraced her in all her naked glory. It should have been addressed, but she chose to remain silent. She was too preoccupied with trying to figure out where on this shivering body to place her hands. Shoulders? No, too high for how close they were. Hips? Too bare, too intimate. While the two of them now had a better understanding of where their relationship stood in each other's eyes, Celes felt that it was too soon just to grab handfuls of cold, clammy butt-cheeks, no matter how much she wanted. The situation as well wasn't ideal for such an action. The crimson burning in her face would have betrayed her thoughts if Terra had bothered to look up from her neck, which thankfully hadn't happened yet. She opted to keep her hands on the safety area of Terra's scarred back.

"Please don't leave me." Terra interrupted her own pleading whisper with a touch of lips to that sensitive spot where neck became shoulder. She then repeated the action multiple times afterward with a greater feeling of need. "I don't want to be alone anymore."

Celes could feel warm tears splash down on her shoulder and tickle her around the strap of her tank top. It was enough to rob her of her voice, though only briefly. When it returned, it wasn't the right one. It was cracked and a higher intonation than her smooth and breathy usual. She had wanted to say, "Do I have a choice? You're holding me in place." Instead, what had come out had been a stuttered, "You're not alone. I won't go anywhere until you tell me to." It was quite a stark difference and one that left her wondering what the hell had happened. One moment, she had been trying to subvert hypothermia. The next, she was fighting off an urge to take advantage of the situation. And bloody Terra wasn't helping by cutely kissing her in sensitive spots and looking up at her with tears as she did so.

She reasoned that it was Terra's beautiful green eyes; they spoke to her of their sadness, happiness, longing, and everything in between. It was a look that strung up her heart and made everything go aflutter. It was a look that made her do the things she secretly wanted, yet couldn't do on her own without a push. Or maybe it was those lips. They were small and thin, but just as powerful, if not more so. They wanted her just as much as she wanted them. Perhaps, it was that, in the flickering darkness, Terra appeared as a shy and shivering goddess, one that Celes was more than happy to fall to her belly and worship.

Terra seemed satisfied with the response and rewarded Celes with several more tingling, trailing kisses until lips met lips for a night out on the town. Terra still had that faint, pleasing scent of strawberries. Was it the soap she used, perhaps? Her slender hand became tangled in Celes' hair; her green eyes stared intently despite the violent trembling. "Will you hold me until I fall asleep?" she said in a whisper.

Hold her? Celes wanted to do so much to her that they'd both climax through their ears. However, it seemed that Terra had the upper hand in this situation; she seemed to know precisely where to generate the most leg-failing pleasure. A kiss here, a touch there, a tickle of tears in between. The only reason Celes hadn't collapsed from going weak had been because of due diligence, but—Baldur's Gate—did she want to fall and take Terra with her. Her hands decided to migrate to the warmer climates of Terra's flared hips, unconsciously cementing them together there. Terra moaned, her shivering making her sound like a yodeling cat, and kissed Celes with such a surprising ferocity that nothing could be done but return it in kind.

The world melted away, just as it had the other day when they had been on that train. Stomachs became drunk butterflies, the ground disappeared, and the sky was a limit no longer. Seconds became minutes, minutes became hours, hours became seconds along with those other types of literary mind-fuckery. When Celes finally came up for air, she said, "I'll hold you until you tell me otherwise." She couldn't help but be reminded of those retarded romance novels she used to read.^[3] A jar of honey, the removal of her clothes, and a heart-shaped bed covered in rose petals were all she needed now to make it complete. She could do without the first, but the second two she really needed. Now.

Again, Terra seemed satisfied with the response. Actually, seemed satisfied was more like really satisfied, as in Celes could feel the desire radiating from her as a kiss was instigated once again. Not only could she feel the hand in her hair becoming more and more entangled, the other decided to slip past her defenses and steal second base. A leg brushed up against the side of her own. A whisper tickled her ear. "Will you be gentle with me?"

Celes coughed in surprise and found herself at a loss for words. It was those damn eyes, those damned but adorable eyes that had jammed the system. There was no denying it; that question had been loaded. This was what she had wanted, dreamed of, longed for, desired for years and there was no denying that she wanted—no, needed—it right now. How she had dreamed of pinning Terra underneath of her, admiring her perfect sculpture, kissing her all over with light touches, and riding her roughly like a frightened chocobo on rocky terrain. But not like this. Not on the floor in a rundown penthouse apartment owned by someone they had just met mere hours beforehand. Not with Terra still upset and confused over her identity. Despite knowing what she did and feeling rather confident she was right, she found it prudent to choke out, "What do you mean?"

Terra, still kneading a doughy breast like a one-handed baker, again trailed light kisses across Celes' cheek before stopping just short of nibbling on an ear. "I want to know what love is," she whispered. "I want you to show me."

A jolt shot up Celes' spine that sent her mind and body into chaos. She tried speaking but stuttered gibberish as she honestly didn't know how best to respond. She was stumped with everything going so beautifully wrong at once. Ice magic was helpless here. Battle tactics meant nothing. She couldn't even breathe properly. Only her hidden and perverse interest in emotions could guide this situation to completion. She assessed that there was only one path to walk, and that was downward. She took control of the situation by sweeping Terra up in her arms, before laying her out on the bedroll and kissing her passionately in a way that she had never done outside of her imaginary fantasies.

Being for the benefit of Celes Chere, a splendid night was guaranteed for all. And tonight, Terra Branford was topping the bill.

"Do you ever question why we're here, sir?"

Wedge looked up from his book and over across the way to Vicks. The two of them, once finished fixing their troublesome MagiTek Armors, remained standing guard over the Narshean esper. Although the job was so dull, they had to question what they were actually guarding it from. Since the battle on the summit between Returner and Imperial and then General Chere and crazed esper, no one from the Empire had come creeping back with sticky fingers. There hadn't even been curious townsfolk about for a quick peek or a how-do-ya-do, just the two men and their deadly bipedal mechas. He had to wonder if this was what Vicks was referring.

"You having second thoughts about joining the Returners?" he said.

Considering that his eyes had grown to the size of dinner plates, Biggs seemed surprised at the question. "Hardly, sir!" he said. "You can't go wrong with free coffee in the morning."

Wedge folded a corner of his book to mark his page before stuffing it into a tiny storage compartment on the front console. "Then what do you mean? I can't think of another definition for 'here.' Or do you mean Narshe?"

"What I meant was do you ever wonder what our purpose is in life?"

Wedge frowned as he contemplated the question. He had never really thought about that and stated such with the slowness of a man deep in thought. His thoughts the past few days had been centered on how much better their quality of life was with the Returners. He no longer had to worry about being turned to a pile of ash just for looking at someone with the wrong eye first, nor did he have to carry extra underwear around in case the first made him soil himself. That alone was a bonus. Additionally, there was all the coffee they could drink and three meals a day provided for them. How Banon managed to provide all this for his rag-tag militia was unknown and a puzzle that Wedge couldn't figure out. Figaro was a nation of wealth extraordinaire. Was this mob funded by Figaro, perhaps?

"I've been thinking about it a lot, sir," Biggs said, mindfully interrupting the internal monologue. "I feel like I've served my purpose and am no longer useful."

"Like you've overstayed your welcome?"

"Like I'm a character who's no longer needed in a story."

Ah, yes. Wedge did indeed flirt with that concept a few times since switching sides. Ultimately, he suspected that they were feeling this way due to the ungodly boredom that one usually felt in a remote podunk town such as the icy Narshe. However, there was one thing that he was thankful for: he still had his health. Events that had occurred here in Narshe could have played out with very different outcomes. Just thinking about what could have been reminded him that he needed to get in touch with his family at some point. Gods only knew what the Empire had told them.

Espers. Phantom beasts. Living, breathing power sources. Whatever one wanted to call them, there were questions about what they were, their origin, andtheir place in this world. If one believed old man Ramuh^[4], then the answers to those questions were all unknown and only raised more questions. Had they been human at one point and split off onto a different evolutionary pathway? Were they the next evolution of humans? Or vice versa? Had they been humans granted extra powers by the gods? Were they animals given advanced sentient minds and granted additional powers by said gods? Were they gods themselves? If not, from where had they come? No one knew exactly for sure.

If one believed Locke's secondhand information from his deceased grandmother, then espers and humans had, at one time, lived peacefully side-by-side and hand-in-hand. Ramuh, being an esper from long ago, confirmed the accuracy of that fairy tale and even carried it a step farther. Espers were related enough to humans that the two races could interbreed. This, of course, was provided that both parties could stomach each other's presence long enough even to consider mauling each other with gonads instead of fists.^[5] Terra and the stone dead queen of the ancient castle were, to Ramuh's knowledge, the only two half-castes known to have ever existed. This particular information was lost to the average person one had been hidden by the government that had controlled and experimented on her while the other had spent a ravaging good time lost to the world. Even so, this information meant diddly to anyone today save the Empire and the Returners.

History has proven that people would rather expend more energy killing each other in the most deranged of methods possible than taking a moment to understand one another. According to Ramuh, both humans and espers had been responsible for committing atrocities against each other during the War of the Magi. Humans had tortured espers and drained them of their magic powers using what, at the time, had been newly created technology. Espers had taken to using their magic to terraform whole cities into rubbled ash and, like the humans, torturing survivors. Conversely, in the act of 'people are people no matter their appearance,' there had also been sympathizers on both sides of the line. Espers willingly aided humans. Humans willingly aided espers. And then there had been some espers, such as Valigarmanda, who were so bloodthirsty that they had been labeled sociopaths. In Ramuh's words: "Valigarmanda was revolutionary in that he was the first to see both human and esper as equal. By 'revolutionary,' I mean 'homicidal maniac.' And by 'homicidal maniac,' I mean he loved killing no matter who or what his victims were."

The Kingdom of Asgard, currently buried under the Nibelheim Sea, had been a safe-haven for anyone wanting to escape the ravages of the war. As Terra had previously learned from Queen Asgard's magically encoded journal, this safety had been short-lived due to internal corruption. From there, Ramuh, Terra's esper father Maduin, her human mother Madeline, and several other humans and espers had fled the nation to the safety of an entirely different realm that had been fashioned to protect them from capture and the eventual torture and death that usually followed.

A thousand years passed in the normal world without much happening. People lived. People died. Fancy that. However, within the realm of time-standstill, the esper and human inhabitants were driven to near madness by the lack of movement in the fourth dimension. To them it had been like anticipating the coming of the night at sunset, only to watch the sun stop short of the horizon, slide across it, and begin its ascent into the sky once again. Living creatures were not designed for a life without time and needed a reprieve from such.

Maduin, the de facto leader of the espers, insisted on crossing the dimensional barrier to discover what had become of things on the other side, an action with which Ramuh had readily agreed. Had the humans in charge ceased their magic hungry ways? Had their technology failed them without esper power thus allowing them a chance for reflection and atonement?

Little had any of the espers known that, despite the passage of time in their home dimension, despite the vanishing of the human nations that had sought their power, the humans had never forgotten about their war or the silly-looking creatures who possessed mysterious and miraculous powers. They had been lying at the dimensional portal, awaiting the day it would reopen, and they could once again raise themselves to a level of godhood of which most could only dream.

Despite the passage of time, despite not knowing what magic was or how it behaved, these humans had acquired old technology that silenced magic and used this to render a surprise attack on Maduin and his group. Ramuh had managed to seal the dimensional wormhole quick enough to prevent the interlopers from entering and capturing everyone inside. Unfortunately, he hadn't been quick enough to prevent the capture of Maduin's human wife Madeline and his half-caste daughter Tina, who had been present to see them off. The battle had ended before it had even come to fruition. The humans had won, the element of surprise and magic-silencing technology conquering all.

The espers had been taken to a nearby dark and crowded city, one built near the portal to watch it in wait. Tall, dark spires littered the top half of the city skyline as well as a thick dark cloud surrounding the largest of all. The bottom was cast into perpetual darkness, akin to a hole in the ground where no light could escape. Ramuh had likened it to Middangeard, the ancient capital city of Nidavell. Upon hearing its description, Celes had voiced her opinion on what modern city she thought it to be – Vector, a city on top of a city where the upper-class live on a silver platter of corruption, deceit, and lies. Vector, a city where the poor in the city below live in perpetual darkness thanks to dank, dark magi-technological wonders. According to Celes, it was a place that rivaled Zozo with its hospitality.

Ramuh had no idea how long he had been held prisoner in the facility that had housed them nor had he been able to hear of what happened to the other espers, Madeline, or Terra. He only knew that one day, after being hooked up to a draining machine, his lightning essence had driven the recipient mad. This made the clown-faced soldier short out the transfer device, killing its controller, and allowing him to escape to the world outside. It was then that he had made his way to Zozo to lick his wounds and to hide himself from the Empire, awaiting the day he could double back to save his comrades.

Knowing that espers were being held captive and tortured, broke Terra's heart. Knowing that these espers were practically her family shattered her heart to pieces. The time for saving them was now, but she had traveled to Ramuh with a purpose. She hated bargaining with lives on the line, especially her family, but there hadn't been much choice. On behalf of the Returners, she had agreed to help him with his quest on one condition: he had to offer his magical services to the Returner forces in Narshe to help them fight their ever-losing fight. As a conscientious objector, he had reluctantly agreed.

Celes knew of a way to sneak into Vector undetected, but getting to the city itself was problematic. Due to Figaro's declaration of war against the Empire, all boats traveling from the upper continents had stopped going to Downunder and the cities located there. Unless something presented itself in Jidoor, this meant a long trek back to the desert kingdom to pick Edgar's brain for options of transportation.

All journeys started somewhere. Theirs begun with a fight against their most dreaded of enemy: ten flights of dusty stairs. To be fair, descending wasn't as bastardly as ascending had been. These things generally were easier when one could use their addiction to gravity as an advantage. For Terra, this boredom caused her to fill the mental vacuum with stimulation from the new swagger and bounce in Celes' step. Or, maybe, said swagger had always been there, and she was only now noticing because of the connection she now shared with that shapely derriere underneath those brown trousers.

Locke seemed to have noticed the odd behavior exhibited by the two women and made the comment, "Are you guys glowing?" As typical of the group, Celes scoffed and threatened bodily harm, while Sabin laughed himself into hysterics. Terra had been confused by this comment as there was no light radiating from either of them nor had she conjured any fire which could have caused such a phenomenon. However, Celes' features were brightly awash with the glow of a rare genuine smile that refused to fade.

So, yes, he had been right, metaphorically speaking.

As for herself, Terra felt tingly all over and as giddy as a schoolgirl riding a rare specially bred white chocobo. She tried to roll with the constant absent-mindedness that fulfilling a fantasy brought and continued telling herself that all of these feelings didn't constitute to glowing. She silently wished that she could immerse herself entirely with these thoughts, but couldn't with an audience. They didn't need to see her reenact her most cherished and intimate moments. That would just be awkward.

"There is something different about Ms. Chere," rumbled Ramuh's from behind.

Terra shrugged and offered, "She seems the same to me."

"No, I mean, there is something different about her than most with artificial magic."

Terra again shrugged. "She's a woman who likes women?" The look of disappointment on Ramuh's face told her that her offering hadn't been what he had in mind.

Before Terra would have said that the only thing different about Celes compared to most others their age^[6] was that Celes could kill with ice and steel. Though, now that she had met Ramuh, she understood the point he was making. There was something odd about Celes' magical field. Ramuh's ebbed and flowed like the tides of the oceans, even if his emotions were hidden behind a bearded stone face. Despite the wide range of anger that Celes frequently displayed, her magical field rarely changed to reflect that. It was always a bright steady blue, like a colored candle in a window to light the way. Like a moth to a flame, Terra's esper form initially had been drawn to that beacon to bathe herself in its light. At least, that was what she reckoned. For all she knew, it could have just been one hell of a coincidence.

"I have never come across an artificial magical presence that, aside from a lack of fluctuation, dutifully mimicked the power output of an esper," Ramuh said. "Artificial presences, in my experience, are usually fragile things. I cannot put my finger on what it could be."

Terra wasn't sure how to respond to his musings or even if she was supposed to. The numbing warmness that she felt in the back of her head made it a tad difficult to concentrate. The fact that her legs were still wobbly from her night-time adventures with Celes certainly didn't help either. She briefly considered asking to be carried, but knowing Celes' aversion to most public displays of affection, she continued to cling to the railing with each wobbled step. One misstep and she'd fall down the stairs ass-over-tits. While she wanted to be done with these stairs quickly, that method was perhaps too quick. They still had several flights yet to traverse. A free-fall from this high up would be fun but came with high chances that she wouldn't be able to do it a second time.

Upon reaching the ground floor, Terra bulldozed her way into a soft side and planted an affectionate kiss on a rosy cheek. To her surprise, Celes didn't respond. There was no kiss back, no hug, not a squeeze of the hand. Not even an angered rebuke for the PDA. She just stared out the large bay windows with a look of angered open-mouthed shock.

Terra followed the gaze and was rewarded with the sight of the Whozyeran streets filled to the brim with the thunderstorm outside as well as numerous unscrupulous individuals—men, women, and children alike. Some looked like they held memberships in criminal organizations. Others looked as if they hadn't eaten or bathed in some time. All of them looked like an angry mob what with their torches, pitchforks, scythes, and chanting of 'Capture the interlopers.' At the center of them all was a shirtless megalodoth of a man and one whose erect nipples Terra could recognize anywhere. That bastard! It was…

"Vargas," Sabin muttered with the unmistakable fleshy slap of punching his own hand.

Vargas grinned at them before waving and pointing in their direction. What the hell was he doing? The earth quaked before Terra saw it lumber up from the back of the Whozyeran mob. It was half-man, half-monster, and all brute. Whatever it was, it was huge. Larger than Vargas, bigger than Sabin, it contained more mass than the two of them put together on steroids. Its muscles had muscles that had muscles that ate muscles for breakfast. Every limb, even his neck, were the size of tree trunks. His chest gleamed and reflected the dim light like polished steel as opposed to flesh. Even at this distance, she could see veins and arteries popping out with every pulse of his heart.

Locked hissed. "We're boned. No one's ever faced a Hill Gigas and lived to tell the tale."

Ramuh tapped his wooden staff on the carpeted floor with dull thuds. "I take it you know these people?"

"Not by choice," Celes said with a growl.

"I see," Ramuh said with a snort. "Based on visual cues, I suggest that we find an alternate exit lest we become trapped."

The Gigas man punched his fists straight into the cobblestoned street and, with muscles bulging and darkening as he did so, pulled up a large section of the earth. He held it aloft for a brief moment, as if showcasing its worth to an uncaring world, before hurling it in their direction. So, this was why everyone was nervous at this new turn of events! These Gigas creatures could hold up the earth itself and toss it like a stone!

"Take cover!"

Celes clamored back towards the stairs and tried to drag Terra with her. Terra, however, shrugged it off, the shrill order having fallen on deaf ears. She remained staring in fascination at this vast chunk of earth as it traveled closer and closer in the slow motion that was 'oh-bugger-I-don't-believe-this-is-happening' magic. It smashed into the canopy outside the doorway, breaking it to pieces. She was intrigued as she watched the old brick wall buckle and implode in on itself, transforming into flying pebbles and clouds of dust. The windows and door shattered into a million deadly shards. Someone screamed her name, but she didn't pay it any notice. No matter where they hid, they'd be crushed, either by the collapsing building or the flying chunk of street coming their way. She couldn't look away. Her feet couldn't respond. Even if she could do either, she couldn't escape unscathed.

Acting on instinct, Terra threw out her hands and demanded that every single piece of flying shrapnel cease its dangerous movement. As soon as the command left her lips, to her own amazement, reality around her rippled water-like with a sparkling white light giving her will form. The chunk of road ceased its trajectory mid-flight mere inches from her nose. The crumbling building ceased its crumbling. Even the rain outside remained still mid-fall, frozen in time.

There were murmurs of surprise and alarm from all around. Locke came up from behind and poked at a glass shard hanging in the air. This was the second time she had performed this spell and had no idea how she did it or even what it was called. She looked to her gloved hands as if they could give her answers. What other magic did she know besides fire, healing, and the gravity spells of a long-deceased queen?

The silence was so deafening that not even a dropped pin could make a noise, but its striking of the cobblestones would be like an explosion of fire minus the charring and sledgehammer-like force. Terra glared at their adversary and contemplated using gravity to shower he and his mob with stones and glass. However, she really wanted to avoid fighting if she could. Maybe they could talk their way out of this with no casualties.

"Oh my! Such a parlor trick!" Vargas' voice echoed throughout the calm. "To think that such power isn't being used to further my own agenda!" he said. "Oh, the shame! The horror!"

"What do you want, Vargas?" Sabin said, uncharacteristicaly short.

"Why, the same thing that I wanted last time we fought, dear Sabin! I want those lovely women you travel with. Not for personal use, mind you." His eyes settled on Terra, sending a shiver up her spine. There was only one person she wanted looking at her like a chew toy, and it certainly wasn't him. She liked squishy bits, something of which he severely lacked. "Well, except for that Fire Witch. We could use magic like that!"

Terra snorted. Her goal was to free people from slavery, not put them in it. Sabin and Locke positioned themselves between her and the mob before them, almost as if they were expecting to be bum-rushed at any moment. She found this surprising as she had magic powerful enough to stop time. She didn't need protecting. The thought was appreciated, though.

"For what purpose?" Sabin rolled his shoulders with a resounding pop. The effect someone made him look intimidating.

Vargas laughed and held on to the Hill Gigas to remain upright. "Why should I share such things with you, pumpkin?"

Sabin shrugged. "How about for old time's sake?"

The Gigas pounded its fists into the ground sending earthen shockwaves throughout the city, rattling windows, doors, and loose bricks. "Meat," it exclaimed in a warbled voice so deep that it was near indecipherable.

Vargas's sneer slowly expanded from ear to ear annexing valuable facial real estate. "Why, you're absolutely right, Hogan," he said. "I guess I should explain to them that they have no chance to survive and that they should make their time."

"Hey, let's not talk falsely now." Locke kindly spoke with his hands upheld in a defensive position. "The hour's getting late."

Again, Terra felt Vargas stare as if he were directly talking to her as opposed to the entire group. "Dears," he said, "in case you haven't figured it out, the Empire is offering a lot of gil for your pretty little heads. I have to say; it's not an offer that I can refuse." That's why he was chasing them? Money? And the Empire couldn't do it themselves? This struck her as odd.

"How much?" Celes said as a hand snapped to the hilt of her sword. "I'm sure Figaro Castle will match it."

Vargas laughed once again. "That is an excellent assumption, sweetie, but no. I don't like being hunted by the Empire. I do the hunting for them." He gestured to the group of people surrounding him and to the city itself. "Besides, they're paying me so much that I can enlist the help of the beautiful people of Zozo! And let's not forget, I owe you folks one for killing and jailing my men."

Revenge on his part she could understand, but why would the people of Zozo side with a slaver? It didn't make any sense that fit neatly into Terra's idea of the world around her. However, as if sensing her confusion, several of the townspeople spoke up with reasons to put it all into perspective.

"Just surrender," cried a disheveled young mother cradling her tiny baby. "With the money Dadaluma has promised us, we'll be able to have running water here in the city! We need that for our children!"

"We'll be able to create jobs making food and clothing!" said a man on the opposite side.

"Edumacation!" blurted out another.

"So, basic living expenses." Locke shrugged and mumbled, "At least it's for a noble cause."

"I know your type," Ramuh said. "You have no intentions of paying these people."

"Oh! Aren't you an adorable old man!" Vargas laughed as he clapped his hands. "Of course, I do! I always keep my promises!"

"Hey, knuckle-fucker!" Celes somehow had propelled herself into the air with her sword drawn. "Keep this!" she cried before she sent the floating chunk of cobblestones flying back in the mob's direction by way of a powerful blow and an ear-splitting THWACK.

Several civilians cried out to various gods and ran away with metaphorical tails between their legs, leaving Vargas and his Gigas alone in standing their ground. Vargas' surprised expression turned to that of smug determination when the large chunk of earth was volleyed back by a pair of giant anvil-like hands. Terra readied her magic to stop time once again but found her services unnecessary. Celes calmly pointed off into the distance before readying herself for a homerun swing. With a sharp explosion of noise, the bundle of cobblestones went careening over everyone's heads at high speed, where it smashed through the building behind them like a meteor through a sandcastle. The front half collapsed with a mushroom cloud of dust and mortar, prompting someone to weep for their hair salon.

This was the perfect time to add to the chaos. Using gravity magic, Terra flung all of the shards of glass and sediment speeding that she held in her metaphorical grasp towards the opposition. See how they'd like that!

Any celebration planned was disrupted before it began. All the projectiles hit a rippling blue force field and bounced back from whence they came. Because of the shock, Terra's reaction in confusing gravity was delayed. Celes, however, was on the ball and caught a majority of the counter attack with the near instantaneous appearance of an ice shield.

"Reflect?" Ramuh said with a grumble. "But I detect no magical presences."

Reflect? There was a first time for everything. Terra had never seen such a magic, let alone heard of it before. Magic that returned magic back to its sender would be useful and eternally frustrating indeed.

Vargas waggled his finger at them and stepped aside to allow several ball-like machines on spindly flamingo legs to fill the front row. Their movements were quick and erratic almost as if they had been modeled after naturally high-strung long-legged birds on a coffee high. Terra's stomach sank upon seeing what appeared to be small MagiTek cannons on the face of the units. This meant Vargas had lasers at his disposal. There was little they could do to protect themselves against freaking lasers.

Celes growled. "Fuck me running," she said. "Trappers."

"That bad?" Locke asked as he pulled his daggers free.

"These arseholes are protecting those other arseholes from any magical attack," Celes continued. "It'll just bounce back at us. Also, lasers."

"Shit. We boned?"

"We boned."

Terra readied her twin katana and nervously readied a battle stance. She'd fought without magic before, but that had been a small number of Imperials in a closed space. There were at least a hundred slavers here, two hundred if she counted the civilians. There was no way that the five of them could take on that many without magical aid. There had to be another solution. There had to be! Something that none of them had thought of, something just out of reach in the back of her mind begging to be released.

Vargas laughed and held his arms wide as if he were trying to encompass them in a hug from afar. "I really must apologize, ladies," he said, "but the Empire absolutely desires your presences. And I've been instructed to drag you back by your hair if I have to. Failure for us today is not an option! For the glory of the Crimson Robbers, I want you dead or alive!"

^[1] This blade is an ancient Figaro heirloom officially called Zweihänder^[2] which, if the rumor is true, is even older than Figaro itself. Supposedly, a swordsman doesn't choose Zweihänder, Zweihänder chooses its swordsman.^[return]

^[2] It's also worth mentioning that Celes calls it the Buster Sword since it's easier to pronounce than something in some incomprehensible dead language. Additionally, it busts heads really well.^[return]

^[3] There was a serious lack of girl-on-girl romance in Vectorian literature, much to Celes' annoyance. She had little choice but to settle for heterosexual as the only other option was a horrifying flood of stories involving Emperor Gestahl and Kefka, of all people, sexing it up together or with the reader, the latter of which being the strangest of them all.^[return]

^[4] There was no reason not to. This was aided by that strange phenomena in which people are compelled to believe adorable smiling old men no matter what comes out of their mouths because they're adorable, always smiling, and smell faintly of coffee, fifty-year-old aftershave, and moth balls.^[return]

^[5] Or the latter first followed by the former depending on levels of kink.^[return]

^[6] Despite now being aware of her true birth year, Terra found it easier to pretend that she and Celes were the same age. She didn't want to feel too old before she became old old.^[return]

Chapter Text

The early morning in the snowy deserts of Narshe invoked a cold and quiet cliché. Edgar and his armored chocobo mount stood atop an outcropping, surveying the land. Instead of watching the early morning sun splash color on the sky like warm water on the face, he was fending off the bitter, gritty sandpaper-like breeze and scrutinizing the approaching Imperial army. Right on time. His Figarian scouts were well trained, courtesy of Locke. Maybe it was time to offer a military position to the man. Although, there were doubts that Locke would even take such a job. The saboteur loved his roaming freedom, but then again, who didn't?

The rumbling of the Narshe watch wheeling their frozen esper into the safety of the mines shattered ears and easily could bring an old man to complain unnecessarily about it in written letter. Like most of his soldiers, Edgar was unaffected by the noise. Thanks to all the years of testing he had done installing the submersion drives into Figaro Castle, everyone who had lived behind the stone walls of the city had grown so accustomed to such vibrations, both air and sand, that they were able to tune it out. Like a radio with radio frequencies, they could focus on what they wanted. In Edgar's case in the now, it was the approaching of the Imperial army and the impending battle that came with them that he was most interested in.

A series of heavy mechanical footfalls thudded and whirred from behind him. "Would you like us to ride out with you, sir?" It was Biggs, one of the soldiers who had defected from the Empire and brought with him the welcome might of MagiTek Armor.

Edgar shook his head. "'Tis not neces'ry," he said. "However, I wish not to be blindsided by cheap Imperial tactics. Be prepared for anything dubious."

When he was confident that Biggs and Wedge were ready in their MagiTek Armors, Edgar rode out to meet the leader of the opposing group. His scouts had dropped the name 'Leo,' but Edgar was remaining wary until his own eyes confirmed. After the Empire's general switcheroo at the demolishing of Doma, he wasn't going to count his chocobos until they hatched. As for the Imperials, they were in for a treat. Edgar himself would be joining the fray at Banon's request. There was a chance that some lucky bastard could go home to his wife or mother chuffed to the brim that he had taken down Figaro's most beloved monarch, not that Edgar thought that highly of himself. Well, he did, but he also liked to retain some semblance of humility.

In the dim and frigid morning light, he spied movement from within the approaching Imperial faction. An armored rider on a chocobo split off from the main group, along with two bodyguards on foot. Edgar grinned at his luck. Before him arrived General Leo Christophe—the voice of reason in an otherwise chaotic opposition. Despite his high amount of valor and honor, nothing could shatter that man's unwavering loyalty to the Empire and its Emperor, so urban legend whispered.

Edgar closed the gap and offered a hand in greeting. Being on opposing sides didn't mean they couldn't greet each other with civility. Leo took the offer with the firm grasp of a man serious about handshakes. Such enthusiastic gestures were nothing new to Edgar. He was king, and many a self-absorbed wealthy socialite desired to impress him with their grip strengths. Leo, however, did not fall into that category.

"General," Edgar said, "it is a pleasure to see you."

"Likewise, your majesty." Leo's voice betrayed no sign of emotion other than respect and perhaps a sliver of contempt. "I see you have a few new toys and operators at your disposal."

Of course, Leo was referring to Biggs, Wedge, and the bipedal machines they rode. Edgar put forth a shrug as if such things were beneath his notice or care factor. Fortunately for him, the subpar, yet convincing charade of perfect Imperial lapdog was no longer necessary. He was a machinist, not an actor. Such things could go to the Jidoorian Opera House where they belonged. "Ah, yes. You know well these things have a tendency to happen as such. 'Tis but a folly of war's theatrics and we are but its unfortunate actors."

"I see." Leo didn't seem too convinced or, more likely, also felt such things were beneath his care factor and had only mentioned it for the sake of doing so. "Is there anything I can say to change your mind? Is there anything that can influence you to stop this silliness and rejoin the Empire?"

Edgar recognized this tactic, it was one that Leo was known for. He would use words to avoid fighting if possible and, at the same time, find a weakness he could exploit should the negotiations break down. The tactic was sneaky, but not everything about war was a pleasant experience. Unless the Imperials were going to litter the battlefield with women and steam-powered schematics, they were out of luck. Edgar had no weaknesses that he was aware of besides his affinity for the feminine form and a love of machines.

Still, Leo was an honorable man and probably the only Imperial besides Celes that he respected. Edgar would give precisely what was wanted: the truth—to a degree. He said with a shrug, "I do apologize, General. Alas, there is not."

Leo's face fell farther underground than Figaro Castle. "The Emperor has decreed that you would not be held responsible for this unpleasantness. He would welcome you back, no questions asked. All you have to do is lay down your arms and surrender the esper." A slight lilt in this declaration almost led Edgar to wonder if perhaps even Leo didn't believe his Emperor. No possible way. Leo was always staunch in his loyalties. It had to have been a figment of imagination.

"And the people of Figaro, which now encompasses Narshe I might add, have decreed that they no longer wish to remain a puppet state under an overreaching government that lies, cheats, and kills at a whim. The people of Figaro have also decreed that all sentient creatures have a right to be free from a life of slavery and experimentation. Unlike the rest of your ilk, General, as their king I listen when they speak. And as such, I have taken precautions to ensure they are not harmed in the aftermath of this scuffle. I will not see a repeat of Maranda or Doma anywhere in my kingdom."

Actually, Edgar Roni Figaro did have a weakness. He loved his loyal subjects, every last one of them, even the ones rotting in the castle's jail. And they loved him, so much so that the people of Narshe demanded their old leader to seek out Figaro's protection and everything that went along with it.

Leo nodded. "I understand. Should I survive today's battle, I will inform Emperor Gestahl of your reasoning and your annexing of Narshe."

"You will survive today, General," Edgar said. "I do not needlessly kill. And, for the record, I did not annex Narshe. If anything, they annexed me! A silly concept, really! However, I should ask you: what is to stop you from joining us? Your values run near parallel with ours. You value all life. You seek to do the right and honorable. You seek to avoid fighting when able. You are a man of honor, a virtue that your Emperor and his clown-faced lapdog lack."

Leo shook his head and rested a hand on the hilt of the blade at his hip as if preparing himself for battle. "I'm afraid I can't defy my Emperor, your majesty," he said. "Nor can I turn my back on my country. That would be like asking you to defy the people of Figaro."

"Touché. We shan't want that! They would want my head on a pike!" Based on the expression that Leo was wearing, Edgar realized that he might have made that crack with perhaps too much jest. He flipped his braid over his shoulder and placed the helmet he had been keeping under his arm in its rightful place on his shoulders. A damaged noggin would not do his next invention or his kingdom any good. "I had been hoping to avoid this unpleasantness, but it appears that we have reached an impasse. I am afraid that you and I shall meet as enemies on the battlefield."

Edgar turned his mount to travel back towards his men but stopped when Leo called out to him. This was unusual. All the protocols had been followed. They had attempted to talk each other down with words and had failed with a civil and stubborn communications breakdown. They had silently agreed to battle. What more could be said? Had Leo changed his mind? Was he willing to join the Returners?

The look on Leo's face, this time, betrayed his emotions. It was one of fatigue, worry, and possibly regret. "Edgar, how are Celes and Terra? Where are they? Are they well?" Even the tone in his voice broadcasted the emotions that must have been driving the poor man mad at night.

As much as Edgar wanted to assuage Leo's concerns, he wasn't going to let information fly easily. "Who wishes to know?" he demanded. "Would this be Emperor Gestahl enquiring for his own personal gain? Or would this be Kefka seeking to finish the inquisition he started?"

Leo sighed and slumped in his saddle. "Neither," he said. "This is a concerned friend and mentor asking. I always worry about those who had been my cadets, especially the orphans."

Where had he been when Celes' life had nearly been snuffed? Where had he been when Kefka had taken control of Terra? Probably in the dark and lied to. It seemed Emperor Gestahl enjoyed keeping his military and citizens in the dark about nearly everything. The Imperial Way, they called it. Edgar considered lying outright and claiming ignorance, but that had been the catalyst that led to Figaro declaring war against the Empire in the first place. Besides, he wasn't Imperial nor did he wish to add to the Imperial Way of lies and misdirection. Should he? Should he not? Perhaps a more diplomatic middle-ground should be approached.

He said, "Since it is you asking, my friend, I shall tell you what I can without endangering their lives. I have not seen them in some time nor do I know where they are at present. However, the last time they had passed through my kingdom, they were well. Terra's amnesia had been showing signs of fading, and Celes especially was full of piss and vinegar. She threatened half my male staff (as well as myself) for looking in the general vicinity of her radiant beauty."

For the first time during the conversation, Leo smiled and gave forth a restrained chuckle. He said, "That certainly sounds like Celes."

All hell had broken loose. They had the honors of facing off against a Hill Gigas, several MagiTek imbued Trappers, the entire population of Zozo, Vargas, and the remainder of his Crimson Robbers. There were people everywhere and without flashes of magic Celes was having trouble keeping track of where everyone was. She ran towards the approaching opposition head-on. She wasn't going to back down nor was she going down without kicking and screaming. She had too much to lose now.

Zeroing in on a group of fellows, she embedded her blade into the ground, and used it to pole vault herself into the air. The maneuver allowed gravity the additional time to aid the blow she delivered to the chap in the center. He merely gurgled himself to pieces over the delivery and the sheer force behind it. She leaned forward to avoid tasting the steel of the gentlemen on either side of her (and nearly tasted the remains of her previous adversary in the process), allowing their swords to clang with impact above her head. From her vantage point, she felled them both with one broad swoop of her blade. So much for their adventuring days! Hard to rape and pillage after a blade to the knee!

Ignoring the cries of the injured, Celes sprung to her feet and continued felling slavers left, right, and center. "Try not to harm the civilians!" she yelled above both storms swirling around her, nature's thunder above their heads as well as the clashing on the ground. She dodged a pitchfork aimed at her side, dismantled it by chopping off the most dangerous end, and demolished the jerk wielding it by way of the flat part of her blade to his face. It would leave a forever lasting impression, a THUNK he'd soon never forget.

"That's easier said than done, lady!" Locke called from somewhere she wasn't.

"I said try, retard!" Celes couldn't see him but figured that he and the others were in the same boat as her, busy defending themselves from pitchfork and homemade torch equipped civilians. What was this? A freaking witch-hunt? Bloody Vargas, turning civilians against them! No wonder he joined forces with the Empire; something like this was right up Kefka's demented alley.

Nearby, Sabin hefted a slaver up with one hand, tossed him into the air, and, like a self-pitching baseball batter, sent him flying with a roundhouse kick. The slaver only stopped his flight when he punched a crumbling hole into the side of the nearby building with his bare head. It had been an amazing watch!

Movement. Nearby. Celes grunted and quickly willed an ice shield into existence. The prongs of a civilian's pitchfork stopped mere inches from her nose. Another civvy repeatedly beat on her shield with a shovel. They wouldn't be able to keep this up this pacifist act for too long. If they wanted to keep moving, they'd eventually have to start injuring or even killing innocents. If only she could use her ice magic on offense instead of for only defense, then she wouldn't have to lament such things. Bloody Imperial MagiTek! Bloody reflect magic! And to think she once used to support such technology!

Looks like you only support it when it benefits you, hey, said a voice with a giggle from the back of her head.

Go back to your hole, she ordered.

"Vargas!" Sabin bellowed. "Enough with this! I want a rematch!"

From somewhere else amidst the fray, Vargas laughed. "Sabin, my dear," he said, "if you want to fight so badly, then I'm afraid that you'll have to fight your way through the innocents first!"

If that wasn't a cheap cop-out, Celes didn't know what was. She dismissed her ice shield and bashed her two excitable flannel-clad opponents with the broadside of her blade. "Do any of you inbred arseholes have any idea who the hell we are? Or I am?" she said.

A scraggly-bearded slaver appeared from the darkness and cackled a single-toothed laugh as he tossed his dagger from one hand to the other. Finally! Someone she could enjoy felling finally came to challenge her! He growled, "All I know is yer a pretty face wif fat tits that'll net us an even fatter bag o' gil!" He followed up his declaration by rushing at her with a lunge.

Celes swung her blade upward, striking him in the chin with the tip and splitting his face wide open. The force of the blow caused him to miss his target and collapse to the ground in a bloody, gurgling heap. She stood over him for a moment, for glaring and scrutinizing purposes, before spitting. "How's this for pretty, knuckle-fucker?" she said as she solidified his chances of a quick death by jamming her monstrous blade into his back, splitting his spine and bleeding him out.

A new adversary dared to enter her personal space. "You blonde-haired bitch!" he said.

Celes immediately pulled her blade free to parry an attack aimed at her front quarter. She let this new jerk attack a few times before pommel striking him in the chest, making his bowels scream in terror with several fancy sword-swinging tricks, and ultimately severing his head from his body with a geyser of red. She spun on the ball of her foot to gain an addition in force and struck the falling head with the flat side of her blade. "Homerun," she cried with a victory pumping of a fist and the twirling of her sword above her head.

The severed noggin arced through the air before striking Vargas' Gigas on the back and shattering into a shower of bone and brain. It was a good thing it struck where it had; the hulking Hogan had been stalking Ramuh, who protected Terra the best he could with just a wooden staff at his disposal, and Terra, who was in a defensive position behind her katana as she glowed red with the summoning of powerful magic. Under normal circumstances, Celes would have questioned what Terra was doing, but she had a feeling that it was an esper thing and that she'd find out soon enough. Besides, this was hardly the time or the place for such inquisitiveness.

"Oi!" she said over all the noise. "Big, stupid, and ugly! I want my softball back!"

Hogan roared and beat his fists on his stonewall of a chest. Truthfully, she wanted to stay as far away from severed heads and giant man-like creatures as much as she could, but she needed that gargantuan gargantuate as far away from Terra and Ramuh as quick as possible. The behemoth grabbed a nearby Trapper by its legs and hurled it in Celes' direction before rushing her as well. Just like when she used to play softball, she swung her blade at the perfect moment, splitting the mechanical mechanoid into two exploding foul balls. She then threw herself into a home plate slide between Hogan's legs to dodge his bumbling dull-witted attack. From the sounds she heard and the sight of the aftermath, it looked as if he had plowed into several civilians and slavers and sent them flying through the air.

From her sitting position, she let loose a shrill whistle to regain his attention. "Oi! I'm back here, wally!" she said. She returned to her feet, flippantly brushed her hair from her face, and thumped a fist on her chest in a show of a dominance challenge. "C'mon, you deadbeat! I haven't got time for a holiday!"

Once again, the lumbering lummox beat his fists on a barreled chest and roared his love for fresh meat. He punched both his anvil fists into the ground, causing an earthquake to shake Zozo nearly to its very foundations. The next thing Celes knew, she was on her back and wondering what the hell had happened. All sounds of battling had seemed to fall like prayer in a house of worship, silent.

"I'm okay," Terra cutely muttered from somewhere on the battlefield.

At least there had been some good news because for one to look up and find a giant and angry Hill Gigas gloating over them would be enough to ruin anyone's day. Celes cringed as he cocked his solid pork roast of a fist back for a powerful punch.

Celes was vaguely aware of Sabin yelling, "Enough of this, Vargas!"

As well as Vargas's response, "Very well! If you must, sweetie! And for the last time, it's Dadaluma!"

A tree trunk arm embedded itself into the cobblestones just a hair's breadth shy of her head. Celes cringed under the dust and pebbles. If that had actually connected… She nervously eyed the meaty appendage before looking up to the lummox himself. He had his other arm poised for another strike and wore the grin of a sadistic child who had just stolen his new favorite toy. That first punch into the ground had just been a taste of what was to come next. "Meat," he rumbled.

"Hold on, Celes! I'm coming!" Locke? What could he do against a giant? She was a trained MagiTek Knight! If she couldn't take the bastard down, then he had no chance!

Well, this was it. Doomed to be pulverized by some meat-obsessed giant and his oversized meat tenderizers. At least she could die happy. A longtime fantasy had come true, and it had been a wonderful thing, even if a little awkward. Still, she'd never imagined that she'd leave this world flattened like a pancake. And with the size of that fist, it could even flatten her monster-sized… She blurted out her disbelief with a harsh whisper. "Oh, fuck me."

A bolt of while lightning struck the cobblestones behind Hogan and seemed to stop his movement through time. "Herr Odin!" Terra cried from elsewhere on the battlefield. "Ich beschwöre dich! Kommt zu Hilfe!"

That… That had been the language of the espers! When had Terra learned that?! Magic crackled in the air, causing Celes to experience the strange sensation of her hair rising on its own. The rain fell harder. A cold, black wind whirled down the street, the tall buildings acting as a funnel and enhancing its power. For one moment, it felt as if the wind were trying to pick her up and carry her away. Then, she heard it: the echoing clip-clop of hooves on cobblestones. Behind the time-still Hogan, she had been able to see him for the briefest of moments; it was the horse-bound, horn-helmeted knight that Terra had described. The Lord of the Espers. King of Asgard. Odin.

Terra had somehow summoned an esper, and a dead one at that, to their aid.

Several hundred flashes of localized white light appeared all throughout the battlefield, appearing and disappearing like fireflies in a forest of people. The shing of the esper lord's blade sang of its battle and lust for blood until it had its fill. When the attack was over, time kick-started itself back into motion and filled Celes' ears with the cries of surprised and injured people as well as the explosion of several MagiTek machines. Her chest also deflated under the immense weight of a detached tree trunk arm.

Hogan screamed and clutched at his bloody stump, spewing spittle and a fountain of red everywhere. Celes grabbed at the loose appendage and, with a cry of disgust, tossed it back at him. Before a reaction could commence, she scrambled to safety. She had heard the roar of pain and frustration from behind her before she heard the thuds his charge. Before she could even think, a blur of green and red tackled her to the ground, allowing Hogan to bypass them altogether and bulldoze into a group of Crimson Robbers. A confused Locke, who had been battling those gentlemen, relaxed his stance to scratch his head with a dagger.

When the bearings returned to her, Celes found Terra grinning shyly and cutely at her from where she was buried deep between her breasts. "Is this really the time for that?" she said with a huff.

Terra flushed with a slight double-handed squeeze. "I was only protecting my special hiding place," she said.

Unfortunately, there was no time to respond in kind. Hogan had realized the trick and roared in frustration. He punched a nearby building with his remaining arm, nearly bringing it down on the injured civilians fleeing in terror. Celes, wasting no time, returned to her feet with a shrill multi-note whistle and began charging an ice spell in her hands. Terra had protected her. It was now time to return the favor, only minus the grope in public view. Hogan whirled around pretty damn quick for someone of his rather sizeable unbalanced stature and erupted in a ball of fire, courtesy of Terra. He charged at them like a bull at anything red.

"Celes…" Terra said nervously. The rain around them began freezing on contact.

"Stand your ground," Celes said flatly. The brute was closer now. She could see the steam of anger bursting out his flared nostrils. Almost there.

"Celes!" Terra pleaded as the freezing rain suddenly turned to hail.

The brute was practically upon them. Celes shot the hulking Hogan to a stop with a mighty Hadouken of ice magic from her hands. Then after unsheathing her blade, she used it to pole-vault into the air and bring it down forcefully on Hogan's head. With loud snapping, cracks spread like wildfire on his ice cage before weakening the shell enough for it to shatter under its own weight. Gravity took over and finished the job by claiming his unconscious form.

It was at this point that Celes took notice that Ramuh and Locke had joined her and Terra. She also noticed that civilians and what few remained of the slavers completely surrounded the four of them. All of Zozo was poised and ready for some proper old-fashioned mob mentality style destruction. Sabin and Vargas were heard fighting elsewhere, along with the sounds of crumbling stonemasonry.

Celes sheathed her blade on its magnet but stayed her hand on its hilt. "Citizens of Zozo," she said, "stand down. We have no quarrel with you."

"You stand down!" one of the men yelled with a shake of his shovel. "Can't y'all see we need money to rebuild the town that y'all demolished?"

"Um…" Locke leveled a finger with the brutish Hogan at their feet. "Actually, it was mostly this guy who did that."

"Let us turn you over to the Empire! Don't you people have hearts?"

A pebble beaned Celes on the head before she had been able to respond. The snot-nosed little boy who had thrown the projectile blew a raspberry at her and hid behind the man who had initially spoken to them. These people were insufferable. Didn't they realize just who they were dealing with? "This is not your fight, mate," she said flatly, "nor is it one you will win. The Empire's MagiTek no longer protects you."

"You can't take us all on at once!"

A murmur had rushed through the crowd before a haggard looking woman reached out to put a hand on the man's shoulder. She whispered harshly, "Tidus, she took down a Gigas."

"I know that, Yuna!" he said as his hands shook from either anger or desperation. "But we still have to do something!"

"She can use magic! You have a shovel! Who do you think will win?"

Coming to their rescue, a second older Whozyeran shook his pitchfork. "Enough talk, ya!" he cried. "Seaweed-haired floozies and big titty bimbos kain't hurt all us at the same time! Let's get 'em, ya! Gang up on 'em!"

The two men poised their weapons to strike. Without a batting an eye, Terra leveled one of her katana at the second man's head with a horizontal swipe and produced a wave of fire that rolled over the mob's heads. As soon as the magic had appeared, it disappeared leaving a heaviness in its wake. The confused civilians looked at each other with bewildered expressions. The ones who had been tall enough patted their smoldering heads in a panic. Children cried. Dogs barked. Cats yowled. Celes couldn't tell if they had been harmed as well, but if they hadn't the atmosphere alone would be enough to affect them.

"What just happened?" said one citizen in a near panic.

"I'm on fire?!" panicked another.

Locke prodded her in the arm before whispering, "Celes, do you think we should just up and leave now?"

"We probably should," she said, "but not without Sabin."

"I could have seriously burned every single one of you," Terra said as sheathed her katana with a fancy display of swordsmanship. She knelt next to the little boy who had a thing for throwing rocks and touched his shoulder, bathing him in the blue of curative magic. He just stared at her in confusion as the cuts on his face disappeared. "I don't want to hurt anyone, but I will if I have to. Please do as Celes asks. Stand down."

Celes narrowed her eyes to glare ice at the two Whozyerans in case they were still willing to take them on. "Listen to the smart lady," she said coldly before gesturing in Terra's direction. "She's also how you people have cuts on your faces. The older gentleman behind her can command lightning to strike you where you stand. The gentleman beside me can kill you before you even see him coming." She sighed. "As for me, there are some who call me 'The Ice Queen of Vector.' I'll let that speak for itself."

"If it's money that you want, then petition to become a commonwealth of Figaro." There were murmurs of confusion from the crowd before it split, allowing Sabin to approach the rest of the group. He carried a frown on his face and an inert Vargas in his arms. He continued, "We've got plenty to help out with and a great healthcare system to boot. The best in the world, probably."

That initial naysayer scoffed and shook his shovel again. Celes was half tempted to destroy the thing just so that she didn't have to see it waved in the air any longer. "What makes you think that Figaro would help us?" he sneered. "Yer just some stupid cheese-brained muscle-head!"

Sabin stopped walking near the man's location and gave him a side glance that caused everyone else to shirk back in nervousness, leaving this guy as the only one 'threatening' them. Celes chuckled and folded her arms across her chest. Obviously, he had no idea who Sabin was. Beside her, Locke echoed that sentiment. "I wouldn't be so hasty to fight the crown prince of Figaro, man."

There was a collective gasp from the crowd as more of them shirked back away from Sabin and Vargas. Some of them even fell to their knees in a show of fealty. If such a display of honor fazed Sabin, it either didn't register with him, he didn't care, or he didn't show it. But it was good to know that not everyone in Zozo was as stupid as a box of Narshean googly-eyed rocks.

"The crown prince! He's so handsome!" said one female Whosyeran as she fanned herself.

Cooed another, "I always thought a prince would be a sickly, pale shade of a man! Such muscles! Take me away to Figaro!"

Vargas stirred in Sabin's arms enough to garner attention. Heavy with weakness, he said, "Sabin, I can't believe the old man taught you that technique."

This prompted a bellow of a laugh. "Well, if someone hadn't been such an arrogant prick, then they'd have seen my bum rush coming right for them."

The Zozo citizen known as Tidus deflated. "We can plead with Figaro all we want, but that still won't help us now," he said.

Locke snapped his fingers with the excitement of an idea. "Wait," he said quickly. "You want money, right? Well, we want to continue on our journey. How about we make a deal?"

Celes raised an eyebrow at this suggestion. She looked to Terra who was just as confused as her. What kind of deal could they make with the poor inbred citizens of Zozo? She seriously hoped that it wouldn't end up some annoying fetch quest that would merely be a waste of their time.

It hadn't been long after leaving Zozo that the storm broke, allowing the sky to clear. Terra sighed, shifted closer to Celes, and rested her head on a bed of golden hair. The warmth of the sun felt amazing. It was even more amazing to feel the woman in front of her wrapped in her arms. She had a feeling that Celes thought the same since their clasped hands rarely separated. And to think, Ramuh had almost taken Locke's chocobo instead of hers.

"I'm afraid this is as far with you that I'll go."

Speaking of… To get a better view of Ramuh, Terra turned to look back. He what? As she watched him dismount from his stopped chocobo, she couldn't help but feel a little…hurt? …disappointed? Both? She finally had found someone other than Celes who had a connection to her past, and he was leaving so suddenly. "You're not coming with us?" she said as Celes brought their mount around. "But you said that you'd…"

"What do you mean, old man?" Locke chimed in, interrupting her. "We only just passed the city limits."

Ramuh chuckled like rolling thunder. He then said, "You want my help in Narshe, yes? I have methods of travel that are much faster than chocobo. And if what you say is true, that all your Banon has guarding Valigarmanda is two men, then my presence is needed quickly."

Locke raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "But why ride out this far, then?"

"Some things are not meant for the general human populace to see. Particularly those in Zozo."

Terra quickly slid off their mount. Upon grounding, she took a moment to fight back the misty eyes of sadness. He couldn't leave her now. She still had so many questions! Who were her parents? Who were the other espers? What other kinds of magic and abilities did she have at her disposal? She was so close to having all the answers! What if something happened to him? …to her? She didn't want to be forever lost in remembrance of who she was.

She said, "You can't leave now! You still have so much to tell me about espers!" She tried to find an interest in rubbing her upper arm. "…about me."

The old man gave her a reassuring hug. The smell of tobacco and cinnamon nearly overwhelmed her, triggering a memory that had long been sunk under murky seas and forgotten. Ramuh used to sit in front of a roaring fire with her balanced on his knee and would entertain her by forming shapes with the exhaled smoke from his pipe.

Terra froze in place and couldn't help staring at nothing while realization kicked her in the seat of her dress. As a child, she had hugged Ramuh many a time and had smelled this very same smell. And every time he had laughed and with a ruffle of her hair had said, "Ärgere dich nicht, Kleine." This time had been no different other than she had forgotten the meaning of his words and she hadn't had to crane her neck so much to look him in the eye. "We will meet again in due time," he continued with his wrinkled, bearded grin. "When that time comes, I will teach you what I can. In the meantime, continue as you are. The path you are taking and the company that you keep are shaping you into a remarkable young woman. Your mother and father would be proud of you."

Terra let loose her tears, not because she was upset or because Ramuh could guess how her parents would see her on this day. She had remembered something! She had actually remembered something from her past! And this one memory breached hull and allowed a flood of images and other information to fill her mind like a sinking ship taking on water. These were images of happy people she knew she had never seen in her current state. Specifically, two of these people appeared more often than others, a shy, brown-haired woman and a horned man with lavender hair. Without warning, familiarity hit like a ton of bricks. Her mother and father… They felt so close, yet she was devastated by their absence.

"I remember them…" she finally said, her voice choking itself with sadness. Ramuh only displayed a knowing smile from behind his beard before ruffling her hair once more. He broke her embrace and took a few steps back. He then clasped his hands as if he were muttering a prayer, though Terra knew better. She called out, "Stay safe, Onkel Weißer Bart." As he faded away in a field of stars, she caught a glimpse of his grin expanding and upturning his beard. She had remembered the nickname she, as a child, had given him.

Ramuh was gone as if he had never been; even the presence of his magical field was silent and nowhere to be found. Terra was left feeling alone, despite knowing that she wasn't. Overwhelmed from the breaking of the levees that had held her memories back, she just stood in place and sobbed openly into her hands. She didn't know what else to do.

But she remembered them now, those espers in their little community. Uncle White Beard, her mentor. The hot-headed Mister Ifrit and his cold as ice wife, Lady Shiva. Carby and his shiny jeweled head. Phantom, who never said much and preferred to be alone. Catoblepas, the stoned demon buffalo. Uni, the pretentious unicorn. Bismarck, the friendly story-telling whale. Kirin, the wise chimera. Siren, the nudist songstress. Cait Sith, the stray trickster. Her father Maduin, leader of the espers.

She remembered the peaceful world they had sought shelter in. She remembered the rustling of its forests, the sparkling of its lakes, and the smell of the meadow after the rains.

She remembered her mother happily singing that familiar ancient song while tending the fire in the kitchen. She remembered her mother fighting and sacrificing herself in an attempt to keep her out of Imperial hands.

She remembered her father placing her on his shoulders and taking her to the hill to watch the sunset over Bismarck's large lake. She remembered her father, as well as the other espers, being taken away in bloody chains.

She remembered being thrown straight into darkness and screaming in fear for her mother, her father, or anyone when no one came to her aid. She remembered screaming until she could scream no more.

And then…

And then…

That was it. Nothing else came forth. But, like a belly filled with an overabundance of alcohol, her mind continued its attempts to regurgitate things long forgotten, despite nothing coming, and only succeeded in making her more numb with each attempt. Terra fell to her knees and fought to hold back the tears, but the levees had already been broken allowing the flooding to continue down her cheeks. A hand rubbed her back, prompting her to smother Celes with a bear hug and her sobs. "I remember them," she cried. "I remember them all!"

She may have remembered them all, but she didn't remember it all. The memories that had returned skirted along the borders of what she was, where she had come from, and those who had lived their lives around her. Those memories were now safe and sound, back on solid ground where she could find them. But there still was one crucial piece missing, the rope that held them all together and made her whole.

She who was Tina Branford hadn't made it back to port, like a castaway missing in a dark and desolate sea, and was presumed lost with nowhere safe to go.

Using his patented collapsible periscope, Edgar peered over the rock he was hiding behind. Not even a moment passed before a flash of light blinded him, resulting in multicolored blackness within the eyepiece. He brought the tool down to discover that all that remained of the entire top half was a smoldering ruin. A hypothesis dictated a MagiTek beam to be the culprit. Well, so much for using that again.

Much like his periscope, the battle was not going in a direction that he'd like. This assumption was based entirely on the fact that he had used up all of his crossbow bolts. Having an empty quiver was never a good thing in the midst of battle. Biggs and Wedge were holding their own only because they were turning the Empire's technology back at them. But as far as Figaro's army and the Returners…

He looked up when he noticed something odd blotting out the sun. His first fearful thought had been that the Imperials had decided to let loose with a multitude of long-range attacks all at once. His second, less fearful thought had been that of questioning when it had gotten cloudy enough to storm. But even so, these storm clouds did not appear normal. They were too low and too dark for the surrounding light.

Lightning flashed bright enough to blind. Thunder snapped loud and sharp enough that all sounds of fighting ceased afterward.

With his ears screaming in protest, Edgar braved poking his head over the top of his rock and discovered something even stranger than dark clouds. The Imperials, Leo especially, were shrinking back in fear from…an old man? No, he wasn't just any old man. Lightning arced from the tip of his staff to the fingertips on his opposite hand, much in the same way that Celes commanded ice or that Terra played with fire. Was this…? Had those beautiful ladies succeeded in their mission?

GESTAHLIAN EMPIRE, TURN BACK. The old man's voice boomed throughout the valley, much like distant rumbling thunder. TURN BACK WHILE YOUR HIDES ARE STILL INTACT. He slammed his staff into the ground, sending a shower of snow and a web of electricity into the air. TURN BACK OR FACE THE WRATH OF RAMUH, LORD OF STORMS AND LIGHTNING.

Edgar had woken up this morning dreading battle, but this… This turn of events certainly made things much more exciting.

When Celes woke, she discovered that she was lying in the strangest of places—her couch in her apartment in Vector. She didn't understand what she was doing here, how she got here, nor why she was naked as the day she was born. The sounds of movement, musical humming, and sizzling bacon wafted in from the nearby kitchenette. Her guard on high alert, she, like a turtle coming out of its shell, slowly looked over the back of the couch to observe what was happening.

Terra was cooking breakfast. Or more specifically, an esper-Terra was cooking breakfast and clad in nothing more than the tiniest of aprons that Celes had ever seen. What the bloody hell was going on? Terra had never been in her apartment, especially in esper form. As Celes quietly approached, she couldn't help but watch that pink tail dance in time with the humming, as well as the other parts that bounced in sync with the round and round motions of egg whisking. As hypnotic as it was, something was not right. Terra's appearance was wrong somehow, almost more substantial in some aspects. She reached out and touched a bare furry hip. "Terra…"

Immediately, she was embraced, kissed passionately, and groped, the suddenness of such things freezing her in place. "Last night was bloody amazing!" Terra cooed. She drawled out the final word, her lilt matching the upward motions of her bright amber eyes. Wait, amber? "I enjoyed it so much that I thought I'd surprise you with breakfast!"

That explained the sizzling bacon that surely should have burned by now. A cursory glance revealed that several crispy golden-brown strips were indeed dancing in a pan. Strangely, there were no burns nor was there any kind of smell. No bacon scent wafting throughout the tiny one-bedroom apartment. No flying grease either. A quick look in the bowl that was resting on the counter revealed several whole unshelled eggs nesting at the bottom. Celes was by no means a great cook, and neither was Terra, but even she knew that the other girl knew that there was an extra step in making scrambled eggs. Something was very wrong here.

"Terra, why are we in Vector—in my apartment? The last I remember we had just left Zozo."

Terra gave another kiss and chest grope before going back to rolling whole eggs around her bowl. "Zozo?" she said with a hint of puzzlement. "Never heard of it, mate. Is that some new club downtown?"

Did she just call her 'mate?' Terra, despite having the same Vectorian accent, rarely used Vectorian lingo on the grounds that, for whatever reason, she felt it made her sound silly. All Celes could do was stare at the back of a lavender head. "No…" she said. "It's a rundown, dilapidated city. We went there in search of an esper and destroyed a slavery ring in the process? We handed the leader over to the Whozyerans so that they could collect the bounty on him?"

Terra giggled. "You must have hit your head on the headboard one too many times last night, hey. You're not making any sense."

"I'm the one making sense! All of this doesn't make sense! We don't belong here!" Celes pointed to Terra's barely hidden chest. "And when did you get such huge tits?"

Terra's expression dropped before she hefted them up and jiggled them in Celes' direction. "What? You don't like them?"

"Now, wait a second--"

"Oh, that reminds me!" Terra took off her apron, revealing another one underneath, and forced the garment into Celes' hands. "Take this to the markets and trade it for some buttermilk. I need it to make pancakes."

"But--"

Terra shoved Celes out the door. "Oi! No 'buts,' mate, especially if you want me to kiss your southern lips after breakfast."

"But can't I get dressed first?"

At this moment, Celes realized that she was no longer in her apartment complex. Oh, it was a complex alright, but one of steel and more sterile than a neutered dog at a vasectomy clinic. She turned to look back at the doorway she had stepped through to discover that it was no longer there. In its place was a darkened lonely hallway that stretched for as far as the eye could see. The apron that had been in her hands had also disappeared as if it had never existed in the first place.

There was only one thing she could do. She chose a direction and cringed with every loud echoed fleshy footstep she took. Needless to say, she also lamented the notion that she had no clothing to protect her from the surrounding world.

Where the bloody hell was she? She had never seen this cold place before, yet something felt eerily familiar about it. There were the odd gurney and wheelchair left discarded in the hallway giving the impression of an old abandoned hospital or a mental institute. Most rooms she passed were locked up so tight not even light could penetrate or escape. The whole place was creepy, like destitute and haunted creepy. It gave off the same unease she had felt in the tunnels leading to the ancient castle, except here she kept expecting the lights to turn red, blood to run the floors and walls, or to find a homicidal maniac with a mother complex running throughout killing people with a super-long katana.

She had lost track of how long she walked before the architecture of the building warped into something designed by a stark-raving drunken madman. The floors and ceilings melted. Corners and edges of doorways stretched like salt-water taffy at odd and extreme angles. Inside the multitude of rooms, she could see little girls balled up in fear or pain. Some were chained to the walls, others to the floor; all were covered in blood. Some took on physical characteristics of different animals, such as cat ears, goat horns, or lizard skin. Some looked like normal humans but had cold, dead eyes and hungry, blissful smiles. Each and every one was blonde, naked, and appeared younger and more identical than the last. Each and every one cried out with animalistic loneliness and pain.

Celes' spine tingled at every howl, prompting her to double her pace. She had heard those cries before. She didn't know where or when, but she had, and that unnerved her more than the sound itself.

She soon turned a corner to find herself face to face with herself or, more specifically, a version of herself that she had seen before in several hallucinations. This was a version of herself that, for whatever reason, mimicked certain aspects of Terra's esper form, most notably the ears and the tail. She was leaning up against the only door at the end of the hallway, more than likely in a deliberate attempt to prevent Celes from proceeding further. And unlike Celes, this woman made no effort to hide her lack of clothing.

"You don't belong here," the cat-girl said.

"It's not like I want to be here, you know," Celes countered. "Where is 'here,' anyway? It's bloody creepy."

The cat-girl rubbed her upper arm and hung her head, much like Terra if she were in the same situation. "I…can't tell you," she said.

"Why not?"

"I've worked too hard to protect you to just up and tell you, you know?"

Celes scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. The nerve of whoever this was. She had been a general in the Imperial army. She didn't need a bloody guardian cat-angel. "I don't need protection," she said with a huff, "especially from someone pretending to be both me and Terra at the same time."

The cat-girl sighed and deflated even further, her expression most certainly mimicking one that Celes had seen before on Terra's lovely face. "Celes, sweetie, you really need to learn to control your mouth in situations you don't understand, hey. I'm not pretending to be Terra."

Kitty-Celes reached out to pet an arm, but Celes took a step back, and delivered a glare that could frighten a rabid bear. She said, "Sure as hell looks like you are to me." She suddenly found herself the recipient of a hug, leaving her with a warm feeling. It almost felt as if Terra was hugging her, that is if Terra didn't have an ironing board for an upper body. It was a strange feeling and one that she was finding herself becoming torn over. She decided that the best course of action was to shove the imposter away. "Leave me the bloody hell alone. You're a hallucination and nothing more."

The cat-girl recoiled and, again, deflated. "Sweetheart, please don't be angry with me," she said. "You don't realize just what I protect you from."

"Well, maybe I'd have an idea if you weren't so bloody cryptic. What is it that a figment of my imagination feels the need to protect me from, anyway?"

A moment of silence passed, almost giving the impression that no response would come. Celes finally had enough and was about to shove her way past when the coldness of the other girl's voice froze her. "You."

"Say again?" she asked with the raised brow of confusion. "Who the bloody hell are you, anyway?"

"Celes, please be wary of where you're traveling. I won't be able to protect you from what you may find there."

Celes again scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. "I'll go where I want, hey," she said short of snapping. "And I told you. I don't need—"

One-oh-five-three-eight, so far, is the only one to show signs of mental stability.

What the hell had that been? It was as if a voice had just started speaking inside her head. It had been so clear that there was no way that she had imagined it. And it had been a familiar voice as well.

The other girl began looking around with the fluster of wide-eyed panic. "Oh, fuck me!" she muttered under her breath. "Not now!"

But even that stability wavers from time to time. Dr. Cossack, I believe we need to run some more tests on her.

Celes didn't know of any Cossack, but she certainly remembered the owner of the second voice. Professor Cid del Norte Marquez, creator and expert on the Empire's MagiTek. He had been the one to give her magic. He had been the one to place her in the Imperial Academy. All this had come to pass before he came to love his alcohol a little too much.

"Is that Professor Cid?" Celes said as she looked around for the source of the voices. They were so crisp and clear that she was expecting the owners to burst through the nearby door. "What the bloody hell is he talking about? And he's not drunk?"

Celes' cat-like doppelgänger grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and violently shook her. "You need to wake up! Now!" she demanded.

Celes tried to shove the other woman away, but for whatever reason could no longer move her arms as she wanted. It was as if she had slept on them all night long. "What the hell is your problem?! What's going on?"

Based on the research that Dr. Cain has done, one-oh-five-three-eight falls within acceptable parameters. In my opinion, Professor, we can count the program as a success.

WAKE UP! YOU'RE NOT READY FOR THIS! This voice, it came from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It was almost like that of a…

Fine. If you insist, but I'd like my concerns noted. Oh, she's waking up. Good morning, one-oh-five-three-eight! How are you feeling today?

Celes nearly responded to the question, until a slap across the face sent her reeling. WAKE UP NOW, CELES! LET ME FREAKING PROTECT YOU!

In the blink of an eye, the cold sterile hospital became the inside of a tent. Celes startled awake with a yelp and quickly sat up, all the while looking for whatever had struck her across the face. Her breaths came out erratic as she sought to calm herself, but it was hard while feeling like something was going to leap out of the darkness at any moment, probably her heart the way it was beating. Not even Terra's thin hands rubbing her bare back with soothing strokes helped. Had she been dreaming?

"It's okay, Celes. I'm here."

Truthfully, she didn't feel that it was okay in the slightest. It was hot and stuffy which certainly explained why her blanket was in a heap next to her. She felt sick, and couldn't even remember what sort of nightmare it had been that sent her into such a panic. "It was a just a dream," she said mostly for her own benefit. "A nightmare I don't remember." Such things were usually no stranger to her at night, but this had been the first in quite a while. Since reuniting with Terra to be exact.

She felt Terra hug her from behind and kiss her just below her ear, making her shudder. "Don't be afraid," she whispered. "I'll do whatever I can to protect you."

Celes almost protested needing protection; she had been a general of the largest army in the world, after all. But for some reason, she decided against it. Even a rogue general needed protection from time to time, someone to watch her back. She embraced Terra in a tight hug as a way of showing her appreciation for the gesture. She did have to wonder: how would Terra go about protecting her from intangible things that weren't there?

Chapter Text

Terra could tell that Celes was irritated from the way she drummed her gloved fingers on the table. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. Tap-tap-tap. It was constant, intimidating, annoying, and got louder with every strike. It was so loud that the barkeep occasionally eyed them with a glare. Terra could only imagine what would happen if there hadn't been a couple of noise dampening barriers of leather and thick table polish. Celes probably would have given herself splinters at best or, at worst, tapped her way through the wood.

The reason for Celes' destructive irritation was an odd one. She had some sort of deep-seated hatred for Jidoor and the people that lived there, all because it all reminded her of Vector. The reasoning behind this Terra couldn't understand no matter how much she tried. She could now remember the espers and the Land That Forgot Time, but where growing up in Vector should have been there was still an empty space. But there was hope. Somewhere in that misty void, she could make out the faint shiny beacon that was Celes and their first drunken kiss under the moonlight.

Terra yawned and contemplated snuggling into Celes' shoulder like a pillow until thinking better of it. Celes was still mad at her, at least that was the impression. That shoulder would remain rigid and offer no signs of softening or warming up no matter how much she stared at it and willed it to conform to her needs. Terra did feel horrible for siding against her as they were supposed to be partners, both literally and figuratively. In this case, though, Locke had made the more compelling argument. The nasty storm they had encountered in Zozo had followed them like a poorly executed plot point as it transformed into a dark and gaping plot hole.

"We don't have time to stop in Jidoor," Celes had said with a hint of disdain. "We need to get back to Figaro and quickly. I'm sure Edgar has something up his sleeve for us."

"Jidoor's a day's travel away," Locke had argued back with a flippant wave of his hand. "Thanks to Vargas, Kohlingen is weeks away without a train. In fact, who's to say that Figaro Castle is even still parked there?"

To Terra, it had been pretty much a no-brainer. She hadn't really been keen on getting soaked again. She had been hungry. (She still was, actually.) She had been tired. They also needed supplies, especially considering that travelling by train was no longer an option.

Terra sighed and turned her tired eyes across the table. Sabin was leaning back in his chair with hands clasped behind his spiky head. Even his normally relaxed disposition showed signs of cracking from Celes' destructive sulking by way of a frown and a single open blue eye. "Hey, Celes, I didn't know you played the drums," he said with a hint of snideness.

The steady rhythmic thuds finally stopped, filling the tavern with an awkward pregnancy of silence that overpowered the chattering of the other patrons. "I don't," Celes spat. "I want my damn drink already."

As for Terra herself, her stomach was growling and trying to devour itself in its madness. She also was anxious for a drink in the hopes that the alcohol would help her forget that she had disappointed Celes. They had placed their order ages ago, but it seemed that the barkeep felt it necessary to serve others before them. Sabin had already gone up there once to enquire. She got the feeling that the excuse of 'it got lost in the kitchen' would no longer appease Celes, not that it did the first time around.

"Another five minutes and I'm going over there to throttle that smug look off that arsehole's smug face," Celes muttered with a menacing sneer.

Sabin chuckled. "Does it really matter?" he said. "Locke's not back yet."

"It does matter. I'm here against my better judgments, so I want a bloody drink to compensate."

Terra sat up and briefly brushed her lips across Celes' cheek. "Please calm down," she said. "You shouldn't be causing scenes in taverns every time we come to Jidoor."

Celes opened her mouth to shoot out a rebuttal, but, after a quick internal deliberation, instead slouched where she was sitting. She frowned and stared intently at her hands as if she were trying to set them on fire. Terra shook her head in disappointment. Celes of all people should know that she didn't have that magical ability unless she were trying to create some kind of frozen flame.

Thankfully, the awkwardness lifted when a waterlogged Locke appeared in the seat next to Sabin. Terra offered to dry him off with her fire magic but was stopped by palm and a reason for the decline. They were in a building constructed with flammable materials filled with flammable liquids. Being run out of the city because a rogue tendril of magical fire destroyed a tavern, and a 'reputable' one at that, was the last thing they needed at this point.

Instead, Locke remained dripping wet as he was and signaled to the barkeep for service. Terra thought it a waste of time; he wouldn't serve them. They weren't rich, stuffy old men who worked the system to their advantage in lining their deep pockets. They were gilless young adventurers seeking to bring down said system.

For once this evening, Celes genuinely looked interested in what was going on around her. She leaned forward and tapped her clasped hands on her lips. "So," she said, "did you find out anything useful?"

Locke put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. "I might have," he said as a grin swimming in smugness slowly spread out across his face. "If my source of information is correct, we could be in Vector by Sunday morning."

"Sunday morning?" Sabin looked bewildered and sounded just as much.

"Pull the other one," Celes said. "That's four days away. There's no way we can travel that far in such a short amount of time. It takes a ship at least three weeks to get from here to there, and that's only if winds and currents are favorable the entire way."

Surprisingly, a bar wench placed mugs of liquor in front of the four of them and bowed politely before rushing off. It seemed to Terra that she had been the only one even to notice. And because they had waited so long for their drinks, this confused her, much like the conversation happening without her. She didn't know where Vector was or even how to get there. Hell, she wasn't even sure if she'd be able to make it back to Kohlingen without getting lost and all she had to do was follow the train tracks. She was just as clueless of the frothy contents of this mug. It sure as hell didn't smell like rum and sarsaparilla.

Locke maintained his position and raised a hand for dramatic effect, at least that's what Terra assumed. "I don't pull anything, lady. I'm not that kind of guy. But, yes, Sunday morning and we could be walking through the gates of Vector." He tried stifling a laugh and ended up snorting in the process. "The downside, though, is that you might not like what you have to do to get us there."

For a moment, Terra thought she had literally heard Celes' frown drop to the table with a sharp thud. It turned out that the other woman had slammed her mug down, the force of which had been so powerful that spillage nearly hit the ceiling. Celes' temper was nearing that point as well. "What did you do?"

Locke, again stifling his laughter, quickly shot a look at the amused Sabin before tossing a folded letter to the center of the table. With a grumble, Celes snatched it and read silently to herself. Terra, anxious to see what Locke found to be so funny, leaned over Celes' arm.

Dearest Maria,

Like a flame to a moth, your beauty has captivated me from afar. It has caused my dreams at night to sour, weakening my heart in waking hours. All my senses have been stripped. My hands can't feel to grip, all my toes too numb to step, waiting only for my boot heels to be wandering. I'm ready to go anywhere. I'm ready for to fade unto my own parade. At the climax of the first day, I promise to sweep you away.

Forever yours,

– Setzer Gabbiani

Celes sighed so heavily that Terra could hear her eyes rolling in place. She buried her face in a palm and tossed the note back onto the table, where Sabin snatched it for his own read. "I fail to see how this is relevant," she said. "If you want to fight some gil-fattened, rhyme-writing socialite over some middle-aged actress with airships for tits, be my guest. Just do it on your own bloody time."

Gravity mysteriously lost its effect on one of Locke's eyebrows. "You mean you don't know Setzer Gabbiani? The Wandering Gambler?" He sounded almost as if Celes had just stripped naked and drunkenly declared herself the Lizard Queen. Terra tried to hide her grin. She liked that thought; well, part of it.

"No. Is there a reason I should?" Celes took a drink from her mug and immediately pulled a face. "Oi!" she shouted. "I ordered rum, not a pint of dog's piss!"

While Terra was with her partner in failing to understand how Maria and this Setzer would get them to Vector, she felt that more information was needed. Obviously, this guy was someone who held a power of some kind that could be useful to them. But how? She leaned forward and said, "Who's this 'Wandering Whats-it' and how will he get us to Vector?"

"He's a gambling vagabond," Locke said, "notorious for doing some shady black-market dealings, mostly of the cheap drugs and bootleg alcohol variety."

Sabin crunched the note up in his fist. "Sounds like a pleasant guy."

Locke shrugged. "There are worse people out there," he said, "Besides, these could just be baseless rumors. However, if we want to get to Vector and fast, regardless of this guy's dealings, we need him and his airship."

Celes' face brightened a thousand-fold, the incorrect drink in her hands forgotten and the twinkling in her eyes swoon-inducing. "An airship?" she said with an uncharacteristic feminine-like tone and sigh. "I've always wanted to ride an airship, hey. To soar amongst the clouds and stars and to look down upon the world below…" This new side of Celes was adorable and one that Terra wanted to squeeze tightly and bottle up forever. Well, she did squeeze and had even kissed, but sadly, she didn't have a bottle large enough for safe keeping.

"Don't get too girly on us, Celes," Locke said with a grin and a waggle of his finger. "Not yet anyway. I did say that you weren't going to like what you were going to have to do to get us there."

Broody, masculine Celes instantly returned like someone had flicked a switch. She looked ready to flip the table over and beat the snot out of Locke, in spite of Sabin's loud guffawing and Locke's nervous use of his hands for defense. She said coldly, "I'll do anything to get on that airship, but I'm not sleeping with the bloke. I draw the line there."

Sleeping? That's how they were getting to Vector?! Nobody was doing that with Celes but her! Terra placed a hand on Celes' own before staring Locke down. She snapped, "I'm not sharing."

Locke buried his face into his palm. "Nobody's sleeping with anybody. God damn."

Terra folded her arms across her chest with a huff. "I'm still not sharing."

"Are you two done jumping to conclusions and being stupid? Because I'd like to get on with this."

"Fine," Celes said. "Wow us with your master plan, Cole."

Locke took a long drink from his stein before speaking. "Anyway, long story short, the Impresario of the Dream Oath suspects that Setzer will try to abduct Maria at the end of the first act on opening night, which is Saturday."

"What's this have to do with me?"

"You'll have to pretend to be Maria so that you're the one that ends up on the airship. Then you can commandeer it and get the rest of us on board."

Celes buried her face in a palm; she was surprisingly quiet despite the tension in her body language. It was a tension that boldly broadcast what was to come—the calm before the storm. Other indicators were the throbbing veins on her forehead as well as the clenching and unclenching of her free hand. "So," Celes said abnormally slow and even, "this means I have to wear a dress, act 'womanly,' and fake that god awful Kohlingen accent?" Despite being a question, an inquisitive tone hadn't been used. That made things even more scary.

Locke nodded, albeit slowly.

"And I have to sing not just in front of you arseholes, but all of these other arseholes."

Again, Locke nodded.

"And then I have to single-handedly take control of an airship, unarmed and in a huge-arsed, battle unworthy dress."

Terra shivered as the temperature at the table dropped. She reached out to rub Celes' arm but immediately pulled back from the immense chill. Frost appeared on everything in the nearby vicinity. If Celes was holding her rage back, it was nearing the point of slipping free. Still, Terra had to agree with her. Commandeering an airship was a tall order for just one person.

Again, Locke nodded. He opened his mouth to say something but wisely didn't.

"Baldur's Gate," Celes shouted as she burst out of her seat, the chair overturning in the process. "I'm a bloody general, not some god damned frilly-laced opera floozy!"

At this juncture, their table had become the focal point for every eye in the tavern, the silence smothering them like a woolen blanket. At any moment, the Jidoorian watch could burst in and haul them all away for disorderly conduct. The last thing they needed was that! "Celes, please sit down," Terra pleaded. She didn't like this unwanted attention. She also didn't like that Celes was oblivious to it all.

"Look, Celes…" Locke adopted a soothing tone in an attempt to calm her. "I know those are all things that you don't particularly care for, but it's either this or we take the risk in wasting weeks traveling back to Figaro only to find out that Edgar has no idea how to get us to Vector. And you did say that you'd do anything to get on an airship."

Any moment Celes was going to snap and bury her fist in Locke's face. Terra readied herself for the event so that she could intercept and try to prevent such a thing from happening. But, thankfully, she had misjudged. Instead, Celes sighed and adopted a defeated expression, her head hung low and face withdrawn. The surrounding temperature returned to normal, melting any ice that had formed. "I did say that, hey," Celes said softly. "I guess I don't have much of a choice."

Crisis averted. Celes once again took her seat, while Terra relaxed with a sigh of relief. Even though the tavern went back to what it had been doing before the outburst, she couldn't help but feel that they were still being watched with a scrutinizing eye.

From across the table, Locke leaned forward and spoke in a low tone. "I'm a Returner saboteur, Celes. Part of that role is infiltrating and getting others into or out of places with as little fuss as possible. If I could play Maria myself, I would. But out of all of us, only you can pull this off. I'm not sure if it's by coincidence or cosmic design that the two of you look like twin sisters. I'm certainly not going to question it. But you need to understand something: I trust your judgment in battle because it's your strength. Now, please trust my judgment with this as it's my strength."

"I'll…try." Celes was clearly embarrassed for her outburst which expressed as a look of horrifying humility. Terra could feel those emotions permeate the air around them. They were thick enough that they felt like her own.

Locke, grinning once again, leaned back in his chair. "We'll get started in the morning. We don't have much time left to turn you into a star."

Ramuh had been gone for the better part of an hour, disappeared into the cave where the Narshean watch had placed the frozen esper for protection. Edgar cozied up further to the cold, hard, rock wall beside the entrance as he waited patiently. Underneath the whistling of the wind and snow whizzing between the mountain tops, he could hear what was at first guess the old man having a one-sided conversation of gibberish with himself. Despite having a fair idea of what was actually happening, it all sounded rather silly.

Thanks to their earlier encounter with Valigarmanda and his attempt to control Terra, Edgar knew that espers didn't really require voices to communicate. Now, what those two were discussing was a different matter entirely. Despite Ramuh's greetings of threats aimed at the Empire in pure easy to understand Vectorian, it was evident here that he was speaking in a different language, one that Edgar had never heard uttered before. Or maybe the old man had gone senile and started speaking in tongues. He hoped that hadn't been the case.

Across the way, Biggs and Wedge patrolled the area in their MagiTek Armors as if they were anticipating another Imperial attack. It was optimism that Edgar enjoyed seeing. The Returners had only won the battle by the skin of their teeth thanks to the timely appearance of the old man and his lightning. The Empire coming back for a second round was a worrying possibility. What better people to predict another attack than those who had at one time been part of that group.

Although, it was surprising that Leo and his mob had come unprepared with no defense for magical attacks. Coincidence? Mayhap, but in his line of work with the Returners that rarely happened. It had almost been as if they had known that Terra and Celes were elsewhere. Edgar smelled a rat; a dirty double-crossing rat. The million gil questions were 'Who was it' and 'Why.'

He highly doubted Locke would betray the Returners. The Empire had taken too much from him. He didn't know the whole story, as Locke was incredibly tight-lipped about the whole scenario, but he had a fair idea. Poor bastard.

He certainly didn't suspect Sabin. Despite the years separating the last time he had seen his little brother, Edgar knew Sabin's loyalties were aligned with that of Figaro's and, by proxy, his.

Could it have been Celes? Could she be part of some elaborate Imperial plot? It was hard to see. Edgar liked to think that he had come to know her decently well in the years since they had met. She had been too candidly outspoken against Kefka and his methods before and after defecation had hit the proverbial fan. She also had been too upset with Kefka's treatment of Terra once that had been discovered. But it was still possible. She had been an Imperial General. The Empire didn't just hand those titles out like candy.

Another one he doubted, but still found plausible; Terra. He knew next to nothing about her, other than she had a past with Celes and her involvement in several covert Imperial operations. She had been the destructor of Doma and, contrary to Celes' knowledge, the true sacker of Maranda, both campaigns under direct orders from Kefka. Her amnesia and shy, meek personality could very well be a ruse, and her real goal be the bloody end of the Returners. It could have been a coincidence that she had been carrying a slave crown with her.

But if Celes and/or Terra were spies, why then would either ex-Imperial woman send esper aid to foil a surprise attack? It made no sense. Coincidence? Mayhap a ploy?

Perhaps Biggs and Wedge? Those two ex-Imperials had been quick to abandon their loyalties to the Empire and join the ranks of the Returners. And all for free coffee to boot! Perhaps the death of Ziggy Stardust had been the silencing of the real Returner sympathizer. It could have been the other way around as well.

Realistically, it could have been anyone here in Narshe. This was something that he'd have to bring up with Banon, sooner rather than later. However, at present, he was tasked with escorting their esper guest and, despite the old man's power, felt funny leaving him to his own devices.

Finally, after what seemed like ages, the one-sided conversation ended, and Ramuh emerged from the cavern, looking no less for wear aside from the scowl gouging deep crevasses on his face. Edgar wanted to enquire how the conversation had fared, but from the looks of things he could wager that they had not fared well at all.

Ramuh stroked his long white beard a few times with a few noises of thought before looking down at Edgar. "I'm sorry, your majesty," he said, "but I'm afraid that releasing Valigarmanda is out of the question. He was a menace to all life a thousand years ago. It will not be any different now."

"He will not aid us in our struggle?"

"Oh, he will in much the same way as fumbled dynamite. In fact, I believe the appropriate human words to describe him would be 'psychopath' and 'genocidal maniac.' Human, esper, he cares not. He simply wishes to enthrall and destroy all sentient creatures. I alone have a slim chance of defeating him if he were to turn on us, which will happen should we release him. You and the rest of mankind have no hope if he were to enthrall me or any other esper."

An esper that wanted to kill all lifeforms and easily could do so. That was a frightening concept and one that Edgar agreed that they should avoid. The fact that Celes had managed to defeat him at all in magical battle when one as powerful as Ramuh admittedly could not just went to prove how lucky they had been.

"What would you suggest?" Edgar queried. "We cannot simply leave him here to be plucked away at any time nor can we continually spare the manpower to guard him."

Ramuh, again, stroked his beard and made several deep throated noises of thought. "They say that some things are best forgotten," he said. "In Valigarmanda's case, I believe it would be in everyone's interest if he were buried once again beneath the mountain."

Bring down the mountain? Edgar ran a bewildered hand through his hair and stared back into the dark cave. Perhaps this old man had indeed gone senile. They say that Narsheans are so entwined with their mountains that they shed a tear for every rock that is destroyed in the mining process. Supposedly, with a grain of salt, when Meteor had been summoned and deflected half of Narshe's population had succumbed to heart attacks. Perhaps the Narsheans were the senile ones.

"I may be king, but that is a tall order even for me," he said. "Narshe would rather part with the esper than part with their mountain. Perhaps there is another way?"

Ramuh leaned on his staff and slowly shook his head, which gave Edgar a sinking feeling. "Not unless you have some other method to bury the monster several miles under frozen rock."

There was the icing room at the castle, but it certainly wasn't large enough to accommodate such a large patron. And the head chef would lose his marbles if he lost his cold space. They could place Valigarmanda in the tunnels under the Nibelheim Sea accessible only by Figaro Castle, but the bastard would melt before they even got there. Edgar was out of options, and if this frozen devil were as devilish as Ramuh claimed, he'd rather face an angry mountainless Narshe than all out genocide.

"No, I do not," he said with a shake of his head. "Very well. Your point has been made." He called out to Biggs and Wedge who had been waiting nearby. "Gentlemen, I would like you to push our frozen friend into the gorge and collapse this mountain on top of him." The two MagiTek pilots shared a bewildered look as if Edgar had just ordered them to sneak into Vector and assassinate Emperor Gestahl.

"Did you just…?"

"Indeed I did. The sooner, the better, gentlemen. And do not fret. I shall bear full responsibility for any repercussions that will most certainly come your way for this."

As the two MagiTek pilots went to work, Edgar and Ramuh vacated to what was estimated to be a safe zone. The old man seemed unconcerned with Narshe's reaction to the changing their skyline. Edgar, on the other hand, prepared himself. Any moment now he was going to be bombarded with the disturbance of a thousand voices screaming out in terror followed by a sudden silence. And maybe pitchforks.

As the first MagiTek laser flashed about, he had another disheartening thought. Banon wasn't going to be happy about this.

It was only the end of the first day of practicing and Celes felt like she had taken on Narshe's frozen popsicle chicken in a fight without magic. She was drained. Sore. Her throat was on fire. The number of times she had coughed and hacked up red phlegm or vomited from the rigorous scale exercises made her glad she hadn't chosen operatic singing as a career. It was more fun when drunk and in the shower, especially at the same time.

Speaking of, she couldn't bring herself to drink tonight despite the drinking atmosphere. The bottle sat nearby, open and warm from sitting so long untouched. The initial coolness had felt wonderful, but the alcohol decided it wanted to fuel the burning fire in her already sore throat. Fuck that.

Celes stared out the window into the rain-drenched night. Jidoor was one of the few places in the world she wanted to be, let alone the place where people would hear her sing for the first time outside her apartment's cramped shower or a tavern full of drunks. She hadn't been given much choice in the matter. Still, she had to admit that Jidoor at night looked pretty between the raindrops. It wasn't Terra pretty, but… That was an unfair comparison; she was biased. Jidoor at night didn't make her utter the names of the gods under her breath. Usually, it was curse words. Although, Terra did that as well.

Growing up, Celes had listened to The Dream Oath records enough that she knew most of the words by heart. She had idolized Maria for her voice and acting ability. It was from those records that she had learned to sing, but this experience was teaching her that there was more involved than just raw talent. She had been dismissive of Maria the first time meeting, mostly because she had discovered then that the songstress was from Kohlingen. Every time that woman spoke, Celes could no longer picture that perfect woman with the perfect voice. Instead, all she could hear was a country bumpkin who sounded like she'd never gone to school because of words like 'y'all' and confusion over 'idea' and 'ideal.'

It was no wonder Locke went out of his way to hide his accent.

Still, Celes could now appreciate just how much hard work Maria put into her performances. Of course, she was getting everything at a far more challenging and faster pace. She didn't have much time to prepare. Thankfully, Maria was more than willing to help her practice her lines and swapping her Vectorian accent for a Jidoorian one. It really wasn't all that needed, but better to be prepared than not.

Despite the constant storming, there was no canceling the upcoming opera. Whoever had built this damn opera house had decided to make sure that it was fully enclosed and leak proof. Bastards. She briefly considered filling the building with as much ice as she could and then coercing Terra to melt it all. She sighed and rested her forehead on the cool glass of the window. No, Terra would refuse to be her partner in that crime. "You'll ruin that cute dress!" she'd exclaim with a pout. That bloody pout was more powerful than any magic spell. Even the threat of it halted her in her tracks.

"All this broodin' y'all're doin' is gonna make ya more wrinkly than a lonely shirt forgotten under the bed!"

Celes, nearly startled out of her knickers, clutched at her chest to keep her heart from failing. Maria somehow had managed to sneak into the room without her noticing. Baldur's Gate, had she been that self-absorbed that she had missed that? "Where the bloody hell did you come from?" she said with the screeching of panic. This sent Maria into a fit of laughter. It was so much like her own that she couldn't help but feel creeped out by it.

"Well, darlin'," Maria said, "like most folk these days, I came in on my own two legs through that door on over yonder."

Celes tried to think up some kind of witty response, but none came. "Yeah. I guess that makes sense."

"Sugar, why the hoo-ha y'all alone in the dark?"

Celes shrugged with an air of indifference. "Sometimes I feel like being alone," she said. "It helps me to think."

Maria giggled once more. "Y'all ain't a big fan of Jidoor."

In all fairness, that observation was pretty spot on. She wasn't. Celes wondered if she were more transparent than she thought or if Maria was more astute than she showed.

Maria continued, "An' considerin' that y'all've been so moody today, I get the impression that y'all ain't wantin' to be takin' my place."

No, Maria was more astute than she let on. This made Celes uncomfortable. Kohlingeners weren't supposed to be this smart. "I… I wouldn't say that," she said. "I do want to help. I mean, The Dream Oath is my favorite record. I just…" …don't like the idea of singing and wearing a dress in public. She couldn't bring herself to finish the statement verbally. Maria didn't need to know that information. Only Terra needed to know her fears, and there were still plenty she hadn't even discussed.

One of Maria's hands lightly found its way to Celes' shoulder with a quiet chuckle. "It ain't 'cause of Mr. Cole, ain't it?"

Celes was quick to shrug that touch off. She couldn't help but to raise her eyebrows with question. What the hell did Locke have to do with anything? Well, aside from putting her between this rock and hard place to begin with. "Look, I just…" She tried to find something in the rain-drenched city outside to help her form words, but could find nothing. She sighed. "No offense, but I'm just a little creeped out by you because of how you look."

If Celes had ever questioned what a taut, surprised expression looked like on her face, she now knew thanks to Maria. "What the hoo-ha is that supposed to mean?" She also now knew what she sounded like to others when her voice went shrill. It was kind of humorous, actually.

"You do realize how much we look alike, right? Being around you is like being around myself if I were more…womanly."

A smug expression flooded across Maria's face as she swiped a blonde curl from her face. "I'm assumin' that y'all're talkin' about how I dress and act 'cause y'all sure do give my womanly assets a run for their gil!" she declared. "I can assure you, sugar, that I don't act lady-like out of no love. In fact, I believe that you and I may be more alike than y'all think. I have to dress and act this way to be taken seriously round these parts. And I have to do somethin' to keep those bastard Jidoorian menfolk and their wallets comin' to the opera house. Otherwise, I'll just be right back where I came from. And I sure as spit ain't goin' back to farmin' in Kohlingen or turnin' tricks in Zozo, if y'all catch my drift."

Celes didn't know how to respond and turned to look out the window with embarrassment. She had never considered that Maria's 'promiscuousness' was an act to keep her relevant or one of necessity. Could it be then that she had been wrong with the belief that the songstress had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth? Actually, what else in her beliefs had she been wrong about?

She turned back when she felt a touch on her shoulder. Maria embraced her with a warm hug, a smile genuine, and a twinkle in her eye. "I envy you, darlin'. Y'all were given an opportunity in life that I never had: the opportunity to be yourself. If'n it been up to me, I'd've joined the watch and bagged myself a couple of beautiful girls."

"Wait. You're...?" Celes was left dumbfounded when she was shoved back against the window. Maria was still embracing her, their faces a mere hair's width from each other. "What the bloody hell are you doing?!" It was like a mirror suddenly decided to break free from the wall and demand affection.

"Why, I do believe I ain't properly thanked y'all for being so chivalrous in helpin' out a damsel like li'l ol' me," Maria purred. "I can see why Miss Branford's so…" She leaned forward and tickled Celes' ear with her warm breath. "…enraptured with ya. How's about I show y'all a few tricks that'll blow her mind?"

Celes had believed that only Terra in her esper form could purr. She had also believed that Maria had been enamored with Locke. Both those beliefs were now lying shattered on the floor. Oh, good gods, what if Locke or Sabin saw this? She'd never hear the end of it. Frighteningly, what if Terra happened to come across this? The remains of the room would be nothing but charred, smoldering bits and bobs. More frighteningly, what if Terra were into it and wanted to join in? Even more frightening was the tiny little voice in the back of her head, that damned princess, drunkenly celebrating in favor of the whole thing! 'She was your idol! Just do it! Grab a handful of that arse, ya wally!'

There was only one way out of this. Celes, like the military officer she was, quickly ran a plan out in her mind's projector. She'd hit Maria with an ice spell to stun her, then knock her to the floor. She'd run out the room at top speed, slide down the stairs' banister, find Terra, sling her over her shoulder, and find some other way to Vector. Screw the men. They were on their own.

Reality returned when Maria laughed again and planted a quick kiss on Celes' cheek. The embrace was broken, and physical boundaries were once again observed and respected. "Oh, my stars! Miss Chere, the look on your pretty li'l face is just simply adorable!"

Celes tried to will her burning cheeks back to cold despite knowing that such a thing was impossible at this point. She was too embarrassed. She folded her arms across her chest for protection and opted to say nothing further entertaining to the songstress. She wasn't pretty nor was she adorable. She was annoyed for being played a chump. She also would have accepted relieved. Nobody was going to be burned alive.

"To answer y'all's question, I'm more in the middle ground, sugar. And before y'all ask, such shenanigans hadn't been as accepted when I'd been your age. But comin' out now would ruin my career, y'know?"

So that was it. Celes could now say that she knew of more of her type besides herself and Terra. Edgar's contact no longer counted. She suspected that woman had been put up to it by him for his own amusement despite what he had said to the contrary. Celes mumbled an apology into her chest. She didn't know what she was apologizing for but felt it was necessary.

Maria laughed again and roughly clapped a hand on Celes' bare shoulder. The sting caused a grimace and could be felt all the way down into her thighs. "Y'all ain't got nothin' to apologize for, darlin'!" Maria said.

Celes snorted and grabbed a couple of scripts on the nearby table. "Let's just get this over with," she said flatly. "I'd like to get some sleep at some point tonight."

Maria nodded with a frown. She hesitated before taking the bundle of paper offered to her. "Miss Chere, I know I'm already askin' so much of you, and I really do appreciate it, but…"

This was different and off-guard catching. So far, with every interaction, the songstress had come across as confident and almost uncaring about what others thought about what came out of her mouth, almost like Celes herself. Celes sighed and, again, folded her arms across her chest. "I'm flattered, but I'm not sleeping with you," she said. "I'm not jeopardizing my relationship with—"

Maria's eyes went wide in horror as she held up her hands in defense. "Oh, my stars, no!" she exclaimed. "I just wanted to ask a question of you, darlin'. I heard tell that y'all're from Vector? And that y'all're a famous Imperial General?"

This was, Celes assumed, common knowledge. Why the questions? "Yes to the first. No longer to the second. Why?"

"Do y'all happen to know my daddy?"

Celes' ears throbbed from the silence. She waited to see if more information would follow. Sadly, it didn't. She hated playing freaking Twenty Questions. It reminded her too much of the one thing she hated about being general: interrogation. "Vector is a bloody big place," she said. "I need more to go on than that. What was his name? Did he live in the slums? Was he a plater? Was he a member of the military?"

Overwhelmed, Maria took a seat on the nearby chair and fanned herself with the papers in her hand. "I don't know. All I know is that he lived in Vector. My momma died when I was a young'un and nana and granpappy refused to speak of him right 'til the day they passed."

"So, you never met him."

"Once in all my thirty-three years, but it was brief. I think I was five? He might've been a doctor, but I don't know. I didn't get a chance to speak at him. Granpappy ran him off somethin' fierce."

Well, that was some information, but not enough to really help. "I'm sorry, Maria. I can't help you. If you had a name and if he'd been military, then maybe. But I can sympathize. I don't know who my parents are or even if they're still alive."

"It's alright, darlin'," Maria said as she stood and enveloped Celes in a hug. "I've had years to get over it, ya know? But it's darn good knowing that I'm not alone." Celes didn't fight back to keep her personal space free. She couldn't now. This was just one more thing that the two of them had in common.

Something suddenly clicked. Maria was an orphan who knew her father had lived in Vector, if he still did or was even still alive nobody knew. Celes looked, even sounded, similar to Maria. She was an orphan from Vector. For the longest time, she had had no idea who her parents were, but with this new revelation, she couldn't help but feel that she finally had discovered something.

All she could do was pat the other woman on the back, in an awkward act of sisterly comfort, and stare vacantly at the doorway. She just couldn't shake this peculiar feeling. It was a thought that dominated her mind then and even days after. She couldn't help feeling that her father, as well as Maria's, could possibly be one and the same.

Edgar waited days to hear an opinion on what had transpired up in the Narshe Gorge. Surprisingly, Maurice, the acting Narshean mayor, was more than happy to hear that their esper was buried once more. His belief was that once word traveled around to Vector that the esper was no longer in their hands, they'd be left alone. Edgar understood the sentiment, but the esper was still there. It was still in Narshe territory. It being underground still posed as a threat of Imperial attack.

Banon hadn't said much about the burial of Valigarmanda. He had agreed with their reasoning but was not happy about not having been consulted first. That anger more than melted away when Ramuh engaged them with his story, Valigarmanda's story, the story of the espers, their unique place within the multi-verses, and, more surprisingly, how Terra's history merged with his.

Well, that certainly had explained a few things. Edgar leaned back against the outside wall of Maurice's house, and deeply inhaled the cherry tobacco from his pipe. Yes, this certainly explained a great deal of things. She was still a suspect as a double agent, but this new information made her less so. He still needed to consult with Banon on that matter.

He sighed out a cloud of smoke and watched as the sunset changed the colors of the clear sky. So, they were now on their way to Vector. He couldn't help wondering where they were now and hoped beyond all hope that they'd make it there safe and sound.

Celes pulled the curtain back slightly and peered out off the stage. Bloody hell! Every single seat was filled; a full house! The excited murmur of the crowd made her butterflies anxious and crash into each other. No more! She was over the shot nerves, the vomiting from the overused voice, and dizziness. She had been unable to stop her hands from shaking and fumbling most everything the past few days. She wanted to go back to how things had been when she had been at the top of her game and one hundred percent confident in herself. She didn't want this self-doubting experience. She'd rather fight off an entire horde of flesh-eating zombies by herself than go through with this.

She sighed and plodded back to the nearby dressing room. This wasn't her. She wasn't an opera singer. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to go through with it. What if she messed up? Her voice cracked? She froze? She forgot her lines? Sang an errant note? She was no stranger to self-doubt; her whole experience fighting to share with Terra how she felt had been nothing but that. Still was to a small degree, but it had taken Terra (of all people) leading her by the hand to get her to where they now were. But this was different. Celes had never doubted her ability to do most anything. She had never doubted how she dressed, her style.

She was doubting it all now, and it was a drag.

Despite the negativity, though, there was a part of her that couldn't wait to go out on that stage and bear herself to everyone. It was a part of her that was desperate to sing out: Here I am! Love me! Praise me! Shower me with your adoring affections! In a way, it was a part of her that almost resented how only a few people would know that it'd be her on that stage and not Maria. It was the same part of her that enjoyed silly frivolous things, like flowers, emotions, and public displays of affection yet had always been too afraid to display such things outwardly. It was the same part of her that was always shoved into control whenever Terra happened to happen.

To control her hyperventilation, Celes took several deep breaths, or at least as deep as she could while wearing this damn restrictive corset. This whole thing was an enigma, this hating something, dreading its coming, yet wanting it at the same time. It was as confusing as it was exhausting. It was confusing just looking into the damn mirror. She hated staring into the full-bodied looking glass and finding someone who looked like her, but wasn't.

But it was also exciting, this glimpse at what she could have been if she hadn't become who she was.

First, there was her hair. It had been treated with gods knew what to make it shine like actual gold. It had been styled into some superbly extravagant ponytail with ribbons of reds, blues, and greens. The hairdresser had even managed to get her fringe to curl around her face like Maria's. While it was super cute, it wasn't her, and she sure as hell wasn't going to spend two freaking hours on her hair and a further two hours on make-up every day. For some reason, she couldn't stop staring at herself in the mirror. She couldn't wipe the silly grin from her face either. She couldn't bury the thought, "I look cute."

Second, there was that god damned dress. It was stiff, bulky, stuffy, and made her tits look twice as big than they really were. Plus, it was hard to breathe in the damn thing! "Bloody fucking corset," she murmured. There had been no reason to vocalize anything, but it sure made the general feel slightly better. Setting the damn thing on fire, preferably with her not in it, would have made her day. But, deep down, this was exciting to the princess. She had never felt or even looked feminine before, and she was secretly enjoying it.

Thirdly, these high heels were killing her. How the hell did any woman manage to walk around in shoes like these? It made her balance unsteady, and her ass look larger than it was. Where was the arch support? The ankle support? The steel cap to protect the toes? Bugger this! She was tempted just to do the thing barefoot. It was that damn princess who overruled those desires by arguing that high heels were the sexy maker. Thankfully, there was no actual argument in favor of general high heel usage as there was no practical everyday use.

In the mirror, there was a flash of green behind and towards the door. It seemed that someone had decided on a quick visit before show time. This was good. Celes needed the distraction to calm her nerves, and she could think of no one better. She decided to try and set aside some of her fears for Terra's sake. That sweet girl looked to her for guidance in the world. How devastated would she be to see her heroine falling apart over self-confusion, self-reflection, and irrational fears? "You can come closer, sweetheart. I'm not going to bite you."

Under normal circumstances, that would be all Terra needed to quickly close any distance and latch on like a vice grip. Hell, most of the time, Terra did it regardless of permission. The distance had been shortened, but her partner surprisingly kept her hands to herself. She was as red as the roses on the nearby dressing table (a gift from Maria) and acting shyer than a child with a crush on the babysitter.

Celes chuckled softly and cupped one of Terra's cheeks. "What's the matter?" she said. "Between the two of us, I'm the one who should be nervous." A lie. She was nervous. She was so nervous that she had used the bathroom at least twenty times in the last hour.

Terra was incredibly warm to the touch and just as incredibly eager to lean into said touch. Green eyes briefly made contact with hers before going back to the floor. Finally, she whispered, "You are nervous. I can feel it. But it doesn't change that you look beautiful."

Celes snorted. She must be projecting her emotions like an open book. Or maybe espers are much more sensitive to such things. Still, she chose to ignore it all together and focus on something she could argue with. "I'm far from it. Pretty, maybe. Cute is stretching it. Certainly not beautiful." She shivered when Terra embraced her and planted a kiss on her neck.

"Stop being so modest," Terra said as she batted at the ribbons dangling in Celes' hair. "You're beautiful, and these ribbons suit you." Eye contact was made and consequently held.

"They'd suit you better."

"You know what'd actually suit me better?"

Terra leaned closer until their noses were touching. Her half-closed eyes and shallow breathing caused Celes to do likewise. She knew what was coming and it still excited her every time. It sometimes was hard to believe that it wasn't a dream. "What's that?"

"You."

Their kiss was quick. A disappointment, yes, but out of necessity. Any longer and Celes' make-up would have transferred and smeared. Not only that but those errant feelings were still there, immune to the medicine that Terra usually was. Celes, seeking comfort, rested her head on a bare shoulder. For once this week, she finally felt somewhat reassured. It was this comfort that caused her to blurt out unprovoked, "I don't want to do this."

The world went slightly darker when Terra nuzzled her. "Why?"

Celes buried herself even deeper into the embrace as her comfort transformed into panic. "I can't do it," she mumbled. Rarely did she ever feel fear, but now that she was in the safety of Terra's arms, the knowledge that she was going to be without on that stage in less than twenty minutes was frightening. She started shivering, despite feeling overheated from all the layers of clothing. "I can't do it," she said with more clarity and force. She felt lips touch her forehead as she tried to recall how to prevent these damaging emotions from setting in.

"You can do it, Celes," Terra whispered in her ear. "I have faith in you."

"No, I can't! I'm going to forget the bloody words and my voice is going to crack…" She sighed. "I need a drink." That wasn't a lie nor was it an excuse. She needed it to numb her panic and fear. She needed it to go out on that stage. She needed it to help her with the embarrassment of being all dolled up.

"No, you don't. All you have to do is go out there." Suddenly, Celes found her head being held up by a firm grip on her chin and a set of green eyes steadily staring at her, willing her to cease her panic. "You've sang in front of Edgar, Sabin, and Locke for me." They kissed once more, the absence of Terra's soft lips felt more afterward than before. "You can do it again tonight. Forget about Maria, the airship, Vector, everyone else. Sing your heart out."

Celes enveloped Terra in a death hug. "I'll try," she said with uncertainty.

She felt lips on her cheek and warm breath on her ear once more. "Or if you want…you can pretend that I'm the only one you're singing to."

Celes breathed in deeply the faint scent of strawberries from Terra's hair. It calmed her or perhaps it had been Terra's suggestion. She wasn't sure, but it was an idea that she could get behind. "I think I can do that," she whispered with an oft abandoned smile. Terra seemed pleased with that response until a stagehand arrived to inform them of the time remaining and to usher her back to her seat with the rest of the audience.

Celes followed suit, leaving behind the safety of her dressing room, and climbed the makeshift stairs just off stage to where she'd await her cue. The stagehand waiting for her there dropped his clipboard in surprise and whispered, "God damn, lady! You really do look like Maria." She nodded despite only partially hearing his words. She had been too focused on what Terra had whispered to her just before leaving.

"If you need me, look toward the wings. Like an angel, I'll be watching you."

She stood in silence, listening to the orchestra swell and wane, while Zidane, a monkey of a man playing the part of Draco, had words with the man playing the part of the King. If only she could sing about Terra instead of some hairy, suicidal knob-head.

She had no idea how much time had passed, but the stagehand nudged her, prompting her to get ready. Well, this was it. There was no turning back now. Her musical cue had been marked, the orchestra becoming soft and lullaby-like. Celes sighed and walked onto the dark, starlit castle balcony. She didn't have time to look around and find her in the crowd. Not that she could. The house lights were down, and the moon's spotlight was blinding. She took solace in the fact that she was there and watching.

'Oh, shit! What were the words, again?! No time! Keep going!'

She prayed that her memory would come back from its holiday the moment she'd open her mouth. She clasped her hands together, looked toward the moon and the stars, and took a deep breath.

Chapter Text

The war between Damcyan and Baron grew more violent as the days measured on. Why the war started no one could remember, but the civilians of both nations felt that the war had been a rather silly thing to string along for as long as it had, like dragging a dead chocobo along in the desert with hopes of it coming back to life in an oasis. Peace talks between royals had been initiated and promptly bit the dust. Why the peace talks failed, well, one could say that a young hot-headed grabby-handed prince of Damcyan hadn't appreciated being called a 'spoony bard.' This was a fair enough reaction. He was neither a spoon nor a bard, although he did have a rather unhealthy relationship with both his harp and a spoon, but that was beside the point.

That had been five years prior.

In the current day, young Draco Harvey, fearless leader of Baron's military, found herself summoned to her King's high court. Having just arrived from peace talks in another land, she hadn't even been back on Baron soil for all of an hour. It mattered not. King Garland had raised her as his own when no other would. She owed him her time as well as her life, more so than just blind patriotism.

"Baron hails your return, Draco," his majesty said from behind his steepled fingers.

"And I welcome Baron's sweet embrace," Draco said as she fell to one knee in fealty.

"What of the Mysidians?"

"My liege, our allies in Mysidia have pledged to me, and thusly you and all of Baron, their magic to aid us in our struggles with Damcyan. They have agreed with our assessment that the crimes of war committed by Damcyan must be halted by any method possible and thusly punished. All Baron need do is send word."

"You bring good news, indeed," said King Garland as he motioned for Draco to stand. "However, I am afraid that your mission is not over, dear Draco."

Draco nodded in understanding and rested a hand on the blade at her hip. "What would you have me do, my liege?" she said.

"I have received word that a small insurgency of Damcyans will soon be marching toward Kaipo, the desert town, as we speak."

"But Kaipo is a small village! They won't stand a chance!"

"Indeed, child. I need you to travel to Kaipo with haste. Unfortunately…" The King sighed. "Unfortunately, I cannot spare anyone other than you for this mission."

"What of Kain, sire?"

"Indisposed, I am afraid. Prepare yourself, my child. You must leave soon. Remember, Draco, draw your strength from Baron. I, as well the nation, love you dearly."

Making haste, Draco returned to her room to prepare for her departure. She had already had her sword and her shield, but other provisions were needed such as a sleeping bag, food, and other amenities. Unlike the previous mission, there'd be no traveling by airship. It was foot travel all the way. She had been about to leave when she noticed an all too familiar and a quite welcomed sight blocking the doorway. Maria Farrell.

Maria threw her arms around Draco in a tight embrace. "Oh, Draco!" she cooed in relief. "Thank goodness you're alright! I only just received word that you had returned from Mysidia, and now you must leave once more? I don't understand!"

Draco tightened the embrace and reveled in the feeling of Maria at her breast as well as the sweet scent of her hair. She had missed this. "Do not worry, my love," she said with a smile. "I shan't be away for long."

"But must you leave again and so soon?"

"The people of Kaipo require a knight to protect them. I am that knight."

"I can aid you!" Maria pleaded. "My studies in healing magic and archery shall not have been for naught!"

Draco shook her head with a frown. "My dear, sweet Maria. I shan't endanger the life of one so sweet and gentle," she said. "This fight I must go at alone."

Maria pouted before kissing Draco on the cheek. She whispered, "Please come safely back to me."

"Long as I draw breath, I shall," Draco said. "My oath to you."

Within the hour, Draco was off towards Kaipo on chocoboback. Her travels took her through the dark Cave of the Mist and passed the eerie Village of the Mist. It was in the vast desert surrounding Kaipo that she was confronted and outnumbered by Damcyan insurgents. She fought them with Valiance and Honor, as was the Baron Way, but it hadn't been enough.

Overwhelmed by numbers, she lost the battle. Believing her to be dead, the Damcyan enemy left her to die in the harshness of the desert. As she lay losing her lifeblood to the sand, abandoned by the enemy and her allies unknowing, all she could think of was her love: her sweet, beautiful Maria.

"O Maria!" she sang,
"O Maria!
My beloved, it's now clear,
Broken through the pain and the fear,
How much I long
To be with you."

That journey had been the last anyone on either side had heard of Draco. News of her falling traveled quickly throughout the lands like a wildfire, disenchanting the Baron armies who loved her so and aiding the rise of Damcyan. Kain Highwind, leader of the Baron Dragoons and childhood friend of Draco, at news of his friend's passing took the fight to Damcyan's door. The battle had been long. It had been fierce. It had been for naught. Baron had lost another of its greatest to the blade of a spear and a moment of doubt.

King Garland of Baron, drowned in despair, surrendered his nation to the Damcyan prince and fled to the faraway land of Fabul in exile. Maria, the now lonely daughter of a Baron noble, was forced into marriage with the Damcyan Prince Ralse. Though courteous to her new spoony bard of a husband, she could only think of Draco and what had befallen her. Every night, she'd steal herself away to gaze at the stars, hoping to find her beloved looking down upon her from the heavens.

This night was no different from any other as she set foot on the cold cobblestones of this familiar balcony. She shivered from the chilly desert air, as she did every night. She looked to the celestial bodies of the sky, as she did every night, and, through song, prayed for her Draco's return.

"O my hero, so far away,
Will I ever see your smile?
Though love fades away, like night into day,
That pain shall never beguile.

"I'm the darkness; you're the starlight
Shining brightly from afar.
Through hours of despair, I offer this prayer
To you, my evening star.

"I'll always think of the times we shared
When fall changed the leaves of spring.
But what shall I do? I'm lost without you.
O please, guide me through the sting."

Unlike other nights, this night was different. Laughter softly erupted from the shadows alerting her to a presence, one that was all too familiar. Could it be true? Had her prayers been answered? Was that Draco? Or had her imagination simply run away with itself?

"Come, Maria!" whispered Draco as she made herself seen in the moonlight. "Let us dance under the stars!"

Maria removed the battle worn helmet from her lover's head and tossed it aside, allowing a cascade of verdant hair to fall like a shower of ivy. She buried herself into warm and welcoming arms as tightly as she could before following in a quiet dance to music that only the nighttime could conjure forth. Eventually, Draco halted their dance to produce a bouquet of flowers from her messenger's bag, long-stem roses.

But as quick as Draco had appeared, she was gone again, faded from existence, leaving Maria wondering if she had even been there at all. The only telling clue left were the roses lying on the cold cobblestones. Crying tears of loneliness, sadness, and despair, she clutched them as close to her heart as she could. Their scent reminded her of better days when life had been simple and free, a time before the death of her beloved Draco.

"Though we must part, my life goes on
But my heart won't let you go.
I'll recall your eyes, so gentle and wise,
A shield from fears I call my own."

"Light as a feather, you touched my heart,
Leaving me forever yours.
Our love, come what may, will ne'er age a day.
I'll wait for you, evermore."

In an effort to let go of her past, Maria tossed the roses over the balcony's edge. They, like Draco, faded from her sight, leaving no indication that they had ever been. All that remained were the memories that she'd cherish long as she'd live.

It hadn't been long before the chancellor had found her and beckoned her from the darkened doorway. "Prince Ralse is looking for a dance partner," he said. "Please come inside, and leave the remnants of the past behind. Our kingdom is aligned with that of Damcyan now. We must learn to adopt their ways."

Maria took one last mournful look to the heavens before reluctantly agreeing. Her imagination had not only run away but had taken a moment to dance with her as well. She sighed in loneliness and entered the darkened castle. The fates were cruel, Draco truly was never to return, but she'd continue on. There was no choice, only that of a spoony bard.

Terra wiped tears from her misting eyes as the orchestra stopped playing, the scene in her head rapidly fading into obscurity. Celes had performed marvelously, even though it probably had killed her to dance with a man. But in Terra's mind, it had been her dancing with Celes in the moonlight, and it had been perfect and heart-wrenching. She wanted to rush backstage and shower her with so many kisses. Fat chance of that happening though.

Beside her, Maria gushed. "My stars, I think she did it better than li'l ol' me!"

Locke laughed. "Celes always surprises us when we least expect it!"

The curtains rose once again for the famous dance scene. There was Celes center stage with the actor portraying Prince Ralse, dancing and looking bored about it. That second bit more than likely wasn't an act, the idea of such causing Terra to giggle. They were coming close to the point where they believed that the Wandering Gambler would steal the show and Celes. It was only a matter of time now before they were on an airship and on their way to Vector. Hopefully, nothing bad would happen before then.

"Hey, uh, guys? I think we got a problem." Sabin unstrapped Celes' sword from his back before taking the seat beside Locke and handing him a note. "I went to take a leak and found this in the hallway."

Looking over Locke's arm, Terra was able to make out scratchy handwriting made in splotchy ink on a crumbled piece of paper. The writing was followed by a doodle of what appeared to be an…octopus? "I owe you jerks one, so I'mma jam up your opera! Let's see how you like that!" – U

"Ultros," Locke muttered.

"Ultros?" Maria looked puzzled and rightfully so. She had missed their first meeting with that giant perverted octopus. "My stars, that sounds like some kinda villain out of an opera."

"Wannabe villain, maybe," Locke said with a frown.

Sabin cracked his knuckles. "I'll kick his ass with a blitz!"

"The Baron survivors attack!" came a cry from the stage.

"Impossible!" came another. "Attack!"

Out on the stage, the opera continued on not knowing that the actors could be in danger. Funnily enough, the music changed to match the atmosphere in the upper wings. Terra grabbed Locke's arm and said, "But if he's going to do something how will he do it without us seeing him? It's awfully hard to miss a giant octopus."

"That's a very good question."

Locke quickly laid out a plan. Maria would go to her dressing room where she'd (hopefully) be safe from any excursions. Locke would scout around the crowd on the lower floor to find any sign of the land-sea creature, while Sabin would take a look in the outer hallways. Terra, because of her fearlessness of heights, would check the upper levels above the stage, though she suspected it was more because she could control the power of gravity in case balance was lost. Locke found it unlikely that an attack would come from above-- How would an octopus get up on the catwalks? --but better safe than sorry.

The four went their separate ways. Rather than take the stairs in the back, Terra removed gravity from herself and floated to the catwalks above. An unorthodox method of traveling, but there was reasoning behind her madness. From this height and angle, goodness, did she get an excellent view down Celes' dress! The opera was still going on, so there was that as well, but the whole Damcyan versus Baron thing failed to capture her interest. These were just no-name characters fighting each other. How was this entertaining to people? She had no emotional investment in these people or their cause! Celes' bosom, on the other hand, was just so much more interesting and worthy of emotional investment! And the returns on that investment made it all the more worthwhile!

A fake wall beside Celes suddenly crumbled with a mismatched sound effect, revealing Draco! He struck a pose with his fake sword in the air. The action on the stage stopped, encouraging a quiet so loud that a pin drop could be heard.

"Maria!" he sang.

"O Draco!" Celes echoed back.
"I knew in my heart you were alive!"

"Insolent rogue!" sang Prince Ralse.
"Knave of the Baron Red Wings!
You would address my queen to be, Maria?"

Terra frowned. That should be her fighting for Celes, not some guy who looked like a monkey. She looked up at the catwalk above her head. It was getting closer now. Not much farther and she'd be able to carry on with her investigation.

"Ne'er shall you have her hand!" retorted Draco.
"I'd die first, you spoony bard!"

"Then it's a duel!" warbled Ralse as he drew his sword.

A rather dull and choreographed fight scene then broke out. It was clear that these two actors had never held blades before. Or perhaps the director had never been in a fight or seen one to know how it worked. Although the crowd seemed to love it, with what sounded like a hundred out of a hundred nobles letting out loud cheers, jeers, whistles, and gasps. Either way, it was so staged that Terra could only shake her head and stifle laughter. It was just as well; she had reached her final destination.

Before she could haul herself up, cheesy diabolical laughter came from the other end of the catwalk. It was startling enough that she hesitated. "Let's see if Boobs McKenzie can shrug this off!" the voice muttered. "Man! This thing's heavier than I thought! It's gonna take me forever to push this over!"

Terra slowly raised her head above the floor and a received a good clear view of the last…person? …thing? …sea creature? --that she had expected to find up here. It was Ultros! And, with several grunts and groans, he was trying to push a giant weight off the catwalk. Directly under him was Celes and the stage! The bastard was trying to crush her!

She was about to flip up onto her feet but ducked back down when he turned toward her general direction. "What? Did you people really think I was gonna say that it'd 'take me five minutes?' Get with the program, losers! This ain't no game!" he growled to no one in particular before going back to his shoving and grunting.

Terra looked around. Who the bloody hell was he talking to? After finding no one, she quietly placed herself on the catwalk and released her stranglehold on gravity. Sabin must have punched him too hard the last time they had fought if he was talking to himself. She crouched and slowly made her way across the narrow walkway, never taking her glaring sights off his slimy and slithering attempts to budge that weight. She slowly withdrew her dual katana one at a time. She was going to put a stop to this and quietly.

He muttered with a whine, "What the hell, man! I got this thing up here fine, but why the hell can't I budge it now?!" He paused and rubbed the back of what could be considered his head with a tentacle. "Unless I'm now caught in a major plot point, which means that--" He suddenly turned and screamed his high pitched girly scream of terror, his ink fearfully flying in all directions. "You! Minty Fresh!"

Terra took off running at top speed down the catwalk with the intent of maiming. "I won't let you hurt Celes!" she cried before she leapt through the air. She impaled Ultros with her blades, the force of her attack felling them both from the catwalk.

Celes cradled the unconscious Terra as she checked for injuries. She had been lucky that she had been standing where she had been. Otherwise, she as well as Zidane and Blank, the actors portraying Draco and Ralse respectively, would have been crushed by Terra and that damned octopus, Ultros. Unlike her, all the men of the Tantalus theatre group had hightailed it backstage at the first sign of trouble. Pussies. But, more pressing, where the bloody hell had Terra and the pervert-squid come from?

A murmur roared through the audience. It was fairly obvious that the Jidoorian nobles were confused and trying to figure out what was going on. Hell, Celes was directly involved, and she was still trying to wrap her head around it. One minute she had been mid-performance, the next…whatever this was.

Terra's eyes slowly opened with a groan. "Celes? Was I successful?"

Celes smiled and soothed her hair. "You were successful in something, sweetheart," she said. "You okay?"

Terra weakly smiled. "Nothing a cure spell can't fix." She sat up and buried her forehead in her hand. "Where's the weight?" she asked.

"Weight?"

"Ultros was going to drop a weight on you."

Celes looked up to the catwalks above and, sure enough, there sat a large weight the size of a typical Jidoorian's ass, gigantic, foreboding, and poised to crush someone. If Terra hadn't stopped Ultros, if that had landed on her, she would have had one hell of a headache. The thought stopped there. As she ran her fingers through Terra's lush, verdant ponytail once again, a new thought made its rounds: Terra had saved her life yet again. But there was one question: How had Ultros gotten it up there in the first place?

It wasn't long before Baku, the Impresario running this operatic production, appeared from backstage to panic over the situation. "Oh my!" he squealed in a tizzy. "This'll never do! With the hero and the villain missin', who'll win the girl? The story's over! My career's over!"

The audacity of this man! People could have been injured here, and all he could think about was his damned opera! God damn drama queen! Another reason to dislike the assholes in Jidoor, especially this asshole! But to her surprise, Terra suddenly stood and posed dramatically…or as dramatically as Terra could muster. Poor girl had not an acting bone in her body, much like her musical talents. If only there were some way to give her an acting bone transplant, then she'd be a natural at it. "I'd like to win the girl!" she squeaked.

Celes smirked. It was just like that girl to not realize that she already had. The crowd, as a collective unit, gasped, almost as if they had never heard of a same-sex relationship, forcing her smirk to melt into a scowl. The Jidoorians really weren't giving her any reason not to dislike them, but then again, Vector wasn't much better. At least here she didn't have men throwing themselves at her regardless of her sexuality.

"But…you're…you're a woman!" Baku stuttered out. "A woman can't win the girl! Women can't fight! This is opera! We have standards!"

Celes had enough of being insulted by this jerk. She'd put up with his crap for four days now. Cracks about her weight- Which was healthy for her age, dammit! --insulting her accent-- Which she couldn't help! --and the constant reminder that Maria was better than her. The last was most probably true in the opera setting, but not in any other aspect. "That's it!" she growled before making her impatience known by lashing out with an icy fist to his pudgy face. He and his bloody teeth went flying into the orchestra pit with a crashing of cymbals. "That's what I think of your bloody shit-house standards, dickhead! Women can't fight, you say? Then take your bloody opera and jam it up your arse!" The men in the audience sputtered and jeered, while the women clapped and cheered with chants of 'Maria!' If only they knew…

In the pit, several musicians surrounded Locke as he checked on Baku. "Baldur's Gate!" he said. "You knocked him out cold!"

Terra was horrified. "Why do you always have to hurt someone when we come to Jidoor?"

Celes snorted and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Well, maybe if people here stopped pissing me off with their shitty attitudes…" This was received by a series of jeers. Whatever. She meant what she had said and wasn't taking it back.

"Hey, Boobs McKenzie!" A chill had traveled down Celes' spine before she turned to look behind. She knew that voice; that high-pitched, nasally voice. The formerly inert octopus raised himself up onto his tentacles in a menacing-like manner. "I hafta say," he said, the smell of brine heavy on his breath, "you're pretty hot when you dress like a woman!"

Compliment aside, Celes narrowed her eyes in anger. "Ultros," she muttered. Beside her, she felt Terra stiffen in anticipation. Quiet footfalls behind her told her that Locke had joined them on the stage.

"The one and the same!" Ultros dramatically confirmed with a…chest? --full of bravado. "Did ya guys miss me?"

"Can't say that I have," Celes said with the crossing of her arms.

Terra threatened the octopus with a katana quickly leveled at his eyes. "I stabbed you!" she said with a wave of anger.

The declaration sent Ultros into a fit of cackles. What the hell was so funny? As if he had anticipated that query, he said, "Sorry, sweetheart! I'm the recurring boss! You can't hurt me with your dull-ass swords no matter how sharp they are!"

"Say again?" Locke had sounded just as puzzled as Celes was. She looked to Terra, who carried a look of disbelief and bewilderment. Recurring boss? And he can't be hurt? What the hell was he on about?

Ultros balled up a tentacle and raised it to the ceiling like a man dramatically raising a fist to the sky. "I'm this story's recurring boss, boy-o!" he boomed, or as best he could with that awful nasally voice. "Literary conventions dictate that to normal attacks I…am…invincible! A power I can use to make all the ladies of the world mine!" Light glinted in his eye as if accenting that declaration, but more than likely it had been a reflection of the stage lights. "The only way you can defeat me is by using something unorthodox! Something that is a secret to everybody, including me, and something you'll never figure out!" He followed the explanation with deranged laughter.

"What the bloody hell is he on about?" Another surprise. Terra rarely swore out loud, but she had a very valid point. What the hell was Ultros boasting about? Story? Literary conventions? Invincibility? Unorthodox defeats? The first two made no sense in any sort of context. The third made sense but was highly doubtful. More than likely, Terra had just thought she had stabbed him; no one was invincible to cold steel, especially octopuses. The last dropped them back in the land of confusion.

Locke shrugged and said, "Maybe Sabin didn't hit him hard enough last time."

"Funny," Terra muttered. "I had thought the opposite."

"I guess we'll just have to hit him harder," Celes growled as she reached for her blade. As her fingers grasped air, she realized that she had a small problem: Sabin had her sword. And a tentacle had just snapped itself into place around her waist. "Oh, bloody hell." A split-second later, Ultros was waving her to and fro in the air like a child with a new toy.

"My harem starts with you, Boobs! Wear that with pride, baby!" Ultros said with a laugh.

He was moving her around so fast, that she couldn't focus on anything in her surroundings other than sound. Plus, it felt like her stomach was trying to escape through her mouth. She risked crying out, "Oi! Let me go, you bloody snack!"

Terra shouted her name in a panic. "Put her down, you jerk!"

Celes couldn't really tell what happened, but from the flashing of a long blur of purple, the crashing of cymbals, and the gasping of the audience she presumed that Terra had tried rushing Ultros and was sent careening off stage somewhere. She called out to Terra and received no response. Shit! Where the hell was Sabin?! Locke would have no chance at close range!

Locke apparently followed Celes' line of thinking. "Ah, nuts," he muttered. She couldn't see clearly, but it appeared that his expression had literally fallen to the floor.

Ultros had stopped waving her around, allowing her to focus visually once again, despite the room's spinning and her stomach's flipping. "Hey, someone's missing…" he said as he rubbed his so-called chin with a tentacle. "Oh, I know!"

Celes tried not to panic. Right now, Sabin and the element of surprise were the only things that could end this. If Ultros knew that Sabin was here, he'd be expecting a blitz at any time. 'Sabin, where the hell are you?!'

Unlike Locke's, Ultros' thinking was nowhere in the same vicinity as Celes'. He snorted and spat an inky green blob out at Locke, who got caught in the line of fire. Celes dry heaved in empathy. Being caught up in a tentacle, the sea smell was as strong as it was nauseating. She could only imagine what it was like being covered in his spit. Something strange happened afterward, and the crowd confirmed it by reacting appropriately. There was a flash of light and where Locke had been now stood a short and pudgy green frog/turtle hybrid of a creature with scraggly, thinning hair. And, for whatever reason, it had a fairly large set of…breasts?

"What the hell?!" the creature exclaimed as it looked over itself.

Celes was mortified. Ultros had the power to transform people?!

"Imp!" Ultros shouted in excited greeting. "My buddy ol' pal! I'm glad to see you! And you're looking mighty sexy today! Who did your boob job?" He cackled.

Locke had the look of a deer in a MagiTek spotlight. "Wait. What?" A flash of a tentacle later, he was sent flying out into the audience. Celes cried out his name and reached for him with her one free arm, not that it would do any good. She was much, much too far away to be of any help especially with no healing magic at her disposal.

"Aw, poor Impy!" Ultros pouted with mock concern. "As you readers can see, I ain't no garden-variety octopus! Not only am I royalty, but I'm also an octopus mage as well!" This was met by a series of boos, jeers, and raised fists. "Ah, shaddap! I wasn't talkin' to you deadbeats!" he shouted at the audience with a balled-up tentacle.

Readers? There he went again not making any sense. "You're a god damned loony!" Celes hissed. She formed an ice dagger in her free hand and tried stabbing the tentacle holding her prisoner. And much to her horror, Ultros' proclamation of invulnerability was true. Nothing happened other than her icy weapon crumbling to icy dust in the wind. It had been like trying to stab a brick wall with a pencil.

"Hey! That tickles!" he said with a giggle. Another tentacle wrapped around her mouth, preventing her from speaking more and cementing her free arm in an awkward position. Unlike the last time this happened, her nose was still free allowing her to breathe, but Baldur's Gate, did she wish she didn't have to smell his nauseating briny bee-oh. He brought her up to his face and, somehow, managed to grin under that beak of his. "I may be loony, but I am gracious! You know what we need to celebrate our newfound harem? Some music up in this bitch!"

The booing of the crowd became loud enough that Celes was having trouble hearing. Or maybe that was from the poor circulation she was experiencing in her head. Either way, she struggled to free herself, but his grip was rock solid.

Ultros pointed a tentacle in the direction of the orchestra pit, where the maestro and his musicians were tending an injured Baku and an unconscious Imp Locke. "You! Start playing! Something upbeat!" he growled in a demanding tone. As the musicians just stared at one another in a puzzled response, Ultros turned his attention and his pointing tentacle to the audience. Although, it soon became apparent that the audience hadn't been his intended target. "And you! Yeah, you, you disaster of literature! You haven't been using those fancy footnotes the last couple of chapters like you used to! Use one right now to give these readers a taste of what my new battle music is!"

It was at this point that the orchestra began to play and filled the opera hall with lively upbeat music.^[1] Disaster of literature? Who or what the hell was that? Footnotes? Chapters? Readers? Was this lunatic implying that life as they knew it was a book of some kind? A story? Ultros was clearly off his rocker and quite sick in the head. Celes tried kicking him there to rectify that but found herself too far away to connect. Fucking tentacles!

"And the rest of you! Click the above footnote!" Ultros demanded. "Do it! Do it now, or I'll squeeze blondie 'til her tits pop!"

As the crowd booed and jeered at her octopus captor, Celes once again tried to break free of his grip and came up empty. She had no idea who the hell he was talking to, or what he was even talking about, but the idea of being squeezed so hard that her insides would burst out through her nipples was a very real fear at this juncture. She quite liked her insides where they were just fine!

"Don't boo me, you jerks!" Ultros threatened with a balled-up tentacle. "All of you, especially you people reading this! I'm the literary equivalent to a recurring boss! I'm supposed to do things like this! You love me! You worship me!"

The very idea of worshipping this loon made Celes want to upchuck. Or maybe it was the fact that he was swinging her around like a ragdoll. Or perhaps it was the fishy smell of the sea. She went with all of the above.

"What the bloody hell are you talking about?"

Terra! Celes tried squealing in happiness until she saw the look on her face. It was an expression the likes of anger she had never seen those green eyes radiate. Her stance was rigid, one hand holding a katana, the other a brilliant ball of fire. Her hair was mussed. Her dress was slightly skewed. Celes suddenly had a sinking feeling that she was about to be caught in the literal crossfire.

"I'm the new Gilgamesh! That's what I'm talkin'--" Ultros screeched in nervous fear and shot ink in all directions when he finally noticed Terra. It coated the curtains, the stage, and even the audience, which caused them to groan and boo collectively. Celes felt sorry them. If these tentacles were any indication, that ink must have stunk to Silius Sector.

"Let her go," Terra said in a frightening monotone.

Ultros wiped what could be called his brow and… He somehow actually managed to shrug. If that feat wasn't impressive enough, he did so nonchalantly. "How about you make me, Minty?" he sneered.

One moment, Terra had been standing just off stage. The next, she was in the air and aiming her sword swing and a stream of fire at the tentacles holding Celes hostage. The hits connected, but, much like Celes' ice dagger, did absolutely nothing other than allow Ultros a chance to smack her down to the stage with a hard and loud THWACK. Before he could attack again, she rolled out of the way and to her feet. She shook out her fire and in an act that screamed 'I learned this from Celes!' produced a middle finger. "What's the matter, Ultros?" she goaded as she drew her other sheathed katana from its scabbard. "Afraid to fight me on fair grounds?"

"I'mma do more than fight you, you green haired bitch!"

As Celes watched in horror, Ultros lashed out at Terra with tentacle attack after tentacle attack, each one more whippy and faster than the last. Terra, possibly using time magic, somehow managed to block every single one with her katana. At least, that had been Celes' assumption until dark purple welts started appearing on her legs, chest, arms, and anywhere her dress had become ripped. He was now so fast that even Terra couldn't keep up.

Ultros laughed as he squirted Terra in the face with ink, blinding her. "Oh, yeah! Look at me, Minty! Floating like kelp and stinging like an electric jellyfish! Oh, wait! You can't! Good thing I told you, then!" He caught Terra across the abdomen, sending her spinning with a cry to the floor in a puddle of blood. "You like that taste of my awesome boss powers? It's amazing what my tentacles can do now!" He laughed once more, the sound grating on nerves. "Flesh penetration!"

Celes once again tried to break free. Terra needed her! But, instead, she found herself staring Ultros in the eye by force.

"Oh, don't worry about her," he said with a creepy air about him. "I didn't penetrate her too hard." He laughed softly. "That'll come later…"

That sonova bitch! Celes sent an ice lance rocketing towards his head from her awkwardly pinned arm. She again watched in disbelief as it harmlessly bounced off and ripped through the curtains with a loud crash. Bloody fucking octopus invulnerability!

"Ultros…" Terra's voice. It was angry and coming from behind.

Celes found herself moved to her previous position, one that allowed her to watch events as they unfolded. "How the hell are you still standing?!" he screeched.

Terra once again stood rigidly. Blood dripped from the corner of her mouth as well as the long gash across her stomach. Her breathing was raspy and struggled. It wasn't long before a bright whitish--blue light enveloped her. Celes had seen this before; curative magic. What she hadn't seen before was Terra's twin katana hovering in the air as she clasped her hands together. But Terra didn't need her hands for magic. Was she showing off for dramatic's sake? A sparkle of green quickly whirled around her before it, the blue light, and her injuries disappeared from sight. She again took her katana in hand before they fell and threatened Ultros with one. "Let her go," she said, again with an angry monotone that drove the crowd to cheer.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me!" Ultros said with disbelief. "You have an advanced healing factor?!"

"What are you on about? Just let Celes go before I make you let her go!"

"Never!" Ultros boomed as he snapped a tentacle around Terra's mouth. He cackled as he waved her about in the air. The crowd booed and jeered at this turn of events, causing Celes to slump in defeat. So much for Terra saving her. "You lovely ladies will be the start of the wonderful Ultros harem!" He cackled before licking his beak. "Just think, all of us naked in a sea of tentacle, undulating in pleasure." That mental image made her shudder in disgust.

He, then, brought the placid Terra up close to his face. He said in a low and molesting manner, "And then I can lick that pleasure straight from between your legs, and I'mma enjoy it." Surprisingly, Terra showed no reaction other than pointing a katana towards their captor and then upward. Intrigued, he said, "You want me to look up?" He did so, and his expression immediately dropped.

"Look out below!" Sabin called from above. Wait. Sabin?! What was he doing in the catwalks?! Was he coming to the rescue?! Celes tried to look, but the tentacles prevented her from doing so.

"I totally did not see this coming," Ultros muttered. The weight that Terra had pointed out earlier landed on his head (enhanced by a well-timed crash cymbal) and cracked into two halves, both falling to either side of him. As he wobbled around on his tentacles, Celes could almost swear that there had been a ring of stars fluttering about his head. It had to have been either light burn on her eyes from the stage lights or her imagination running away with her. Tentacles stiffened before loosening enough for both Terra and herself to drop to the floor. "Hoisted by my own petard…" he slurred before, he too, fell to the floor face first.

Sabin soon joined them on stage and how he had managed a jump from such a height with no injuries was boggling. He wrapped an arm around Celes' shoulders, while Terra unabashedly kissed her cheek from the opposite side. "Once again, Sabin Rene Figaro saves the day!" he said with that cheeky grin that was usually synonymous with the name Edgar. "What would you guys do without me?"

"How did you even know about that weight?" Celes said. "You just appeared out of bloody nowhere!"

"I happened to be backstage when Terra came crashing into me," he said with a shrug.

Terra beamed brightly. "I came up with the plan to distract Ultros while Sabin did the heavy lifting," she said. Celes could only stare. Bloody girl had been showing off from the start.

Sabin released Celes from his arm to flex it. "That thing was damn heavy, though!" he said. "It took me five minutes to get it over the edge!"

The Ultros situation was finally over; the opera had pretty much come to a halt. This left one with a single question. Where was Setzer? He didn't seem to be in the audience, but it was hard to tell with people milling about in confusion, anger, disgust, and/or boredom. He wasn't waiting off stage anywhere, at least that Celes could see. She had been about to turn to Sabin to ask if he had seen any sign while up in the catwalks when a sharp prick made itself known in her neck. She reached back, expecting an insect and instead pulled free a…dart? She dropped it to the floor when the world started spinning. Well, this was bad.

Before she could comment on it, the world returned to normal. Except, Terra, Sabin, both gone. The orchestra pit, empty; Locke nowhere to be found. The seats in the house, devoid of life. She was alone in the opera house. Actually, that wasn't true. There was another standing behind her. She could feel her presence; it was similar to Terra's.

"Celes…"

As soon as she heard her own voice speak to her, she knew who it was and where she was. This wasn't the Jidoor Opera House; she was inside her own head. She turned to regard the woman standing behind her. And, as she suspected, it was the version of herself that seemed to be obsessed with cats and nudity. "Oh, Baldur's Gate!" Celes grumbled. "Why is it whenever we meet you're bare-arsed naked?"

Her other self giggled and embraced her with a hug. "Because it gets a rise out you, hey," she said with a wink, "and it's not like it's anything you haven't seen in a mirror. And since we're asking questions, I could ask why you always seem to be quite the damsel in distress despite how heroic you try to be."

Celes folded her arms across her chest and scoffed. "I am not a damsel in distress, cat lady."

Cat-Celes nodded with a slight grin as if she was having trouble believing Celes. "If you say so." She walked to the front of the stage and took a seat on its edge. "Oh, and call me 'Exposition'."

Celes stood rooted in place and debated following. Alternatively, she could try to find her way out of this place, but considering that she was presently dreaming, that'd be pointless. She sighed and followed suit, taking a seat next to her doppelgänger. She noted that she was no longer wearing that restrictive dress, but her typical attire. Thank goodness. She could breathe! "'Exposition'? That's a strange name. Why that?"

"Why 'Celes' instead of 'Celestial'? Why not go by your middle name of 'Rosa'? Why anything? But if you must know, it's because I entertain you when boring things happen. It differentiates me from you. Also, the 'x' makes it sound exotic."

"Well, that's cute. I'm sitting with a clone of myself who thinks she's a cat and has named herself after a literary device. Real cute," Celes said with a frown and an eyeroll.

"You like it!" Exposition said with a giggle.

"Look, lady, just be thankful that I accept the fact that I am you and vice versa."

Her kitty-clone leaned closer and kissed her on the cheek. "That makes me happy!"

"But that doesn't tell me why I'm here."

"Dart laced with sleeping potion, I believe."

"So, I've been kidnapped by Setzer."

"More than likely."

Celes punched the flooring next to her leg. "This wasn't part of the deal!" she said, her shout reverberation off the empty walls. "I'm gonna punch Cole in his bloody nose if I see him again!"

Exposition placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled brightly. It was the same sort of don't-do-that smile that Terra would give her. "Don't be mad at Locke, hey," she said. "There was no way of him knowing that poisons would be involved. Besides, before I passed out I used magic to stave off some of its effects."

"Wait. What? I don't know any curative magic!"

The bright smile turned cheeky. "But I do."

With a snarl, Celes barked, "If we're the same person why do we have different skill sets?"

"I dunno, mate," the other said with a shrug. "Just is. I suspect it's a side-effect of our split."

"Split?"

"We used to be one persona. Now we're not. You're the dominant one, and I just sorta hide back here and keep the horrible things from our past from surfacing and breaking you. Occasionally, I do save your arse when you're not paying attention. Like this time."

Celes laughed. "Pull the other one!" she said. "That's the most clichéd pile I've ever heard, hey! Sounds like something I read in a book once. Now I know I'm dreaming."

Exposition shook her head with a paper-thin frown. "Not a cliché," she said. "But you believe whatever you want. By the way, be prepared for the chundering."

"Chundering?"

The next thing Celes knew, she was scrambling to lean over the side of a bed to expel the contents of her stomach into a conveniently placed metal bucket. Not once, not twice, but three whole times. It had been a horrible experience. Baldur's Gate, the taste of bile was absolutely atrocious. Usually, she was too drunk or too passed out to notice. Once the projectiling was over, she sat back on her feet and tried to calm her twisting stomach. That aside, she realized that she was no longer in the opera house, but in some very stately bedroom. A metallic whirring became noticeable, and once noticed was no longer content with returning to background noise. To one side was a closed door that she assumed led out to the rest of wherever this was and was more than likely locked. On the opposite was a large window showcasing the sky, clouds, and the sun setting over the ocean far below. It was beautiful!

Was she…? Was she on Setzer's airship?

She slid off the bed, taking care not to spill the bucket she had just filled. The room was quite spacious and moderately furnished with a theme of playing cards suitable for a gambler's den. Was this Setzer's personal sleeping space? She froze as realization crept up on her. She was no longer wearing the opera dress, but a silken nightgown that was almost the same shade of green as Terra's hair. In fact, that was all she was wearing. Even her underwear was missing from her body, but luckily, had been found folded on a nearby chair. "That sonova bitch saw me bloody naked," she whispered angrily to no one save herself. She did have to admit, the gown felt bloody amazing.

She stormed over to a nearby wardrobe and hastily pulled it open. Inside, she found multitudes of clothing; all of it men's and most of it a stretch to wear. Nothing was suitable, her hips and chest were too damn big. How irritating! She'd have to make do with something as she sure as hell wasn't fighting naked or in nothing but a silk gown.

Resisting the urge to smash something, Celes sighed and continued her search. She had to find something quick. She had an airship to commandeer.

^[1] Final Fantasy V's "The Battle with Gilgamesh" aka "Battle at the Big Bridge."^[return]

Chapter Text

Figaro Castle was quiet. Well, except for housekeeping staff making their rounds with their reverse airflow floor cleaners, devices designed by the Royal Figaro Engineers to make castle cleaning easier. The gadget worked marvelously, although there was some arguing over what to officially name it. The Sucker Machine, The Vacuu-Suck, and Electric Dirt Eater were among the few coined. Normally, Edgar got involved in the battles for naming new technology, but today he was more preoccupied with the nagging voice in his head.^[1] Its warnings of a double agent were constant and damned near unforgiving. He was near the brink of an insanity he couldn't shake.

Repetitive story short: He needed a drink to drown the bastard to death, and it just so happened that he had many bottles of just that waiting for him in his study. Thankfully, Banon had had no further need of him in Narshe and had allowed him to return to the comforts of Figaro. Of course, Banon's dismissal of his concerns was troubling. "A mere coincidence," he had said. "You should return to the castle and rest, Edgar. You're jumping at nothing."

Edgar, of course, disagreed but had no concrete evidence to prove what he felt. He was beginning to suspect his operative in place at Durmoch's residence as he hadn't heard from her in weeks and his last request for intel had gone unanswered. However, this 'evidence' could be explained every-which-way to next Sunday. Durmoch could have captured her and kept it under wraps after the fiasco with Celes, Terra, and Locke. It could just simply be that she was under watch and unable to send a tweet safely.^[2] Anything was possible. He hoped that it purely was a safety issue and nothing more.

With Ramuh's passing mention of instantaneous warping magic and his request to see Figaro Castle, Edgar couldn't say no. He had needed a break away from Narshe and Banon anyway. Just as well, seeing the look of surprise on the Chancellor's face made the unpleasant but fascinating feeling of being in two places at once entirely worth it.

"Impressive," Ramuh rumbled behind him. "Figarian architecture very much reminds me of old Asgard."

"Asgard, you say?" Edgar said with a smirk. "I had never heard of such a nation until you mentioned that you and Terra hailed from there."

"I could even go so far to say that we are still in Asgard. It appears as if the kingdom simply changed its name, royal family, and the location of its castle."

"I believe we may have found that original castle under the Nibelheim Sea, my friend. If you wish, I can take you there." And the ancient Asgardians who had been left alive at the end of the War of the Magi must have chosen this location to settle. How fascinating! To think that one nation rose from the ashes of another! And if what Ramuh had said about the ancient Asgardians was true, then that would also explain why Figarians in general opposed the Empire's desire to enslave others.

"I would appreciate that, your majesty. I have a great deal of respects to pay."

Edgar nodded and opened the door to his study. "But first, join me in a drink to honor those fallen in the fight for equality."

Ramuh's beard turned upwards with a smile. "Very well. And I shall regale you with further tales of Asgard and her queen."

"The queen who is a dead ringer for our beautiful Celes? You have my undivided attention!"

Laughter filled the room like rolling thunder in a valley. Ramuh said, "If Frigg knew that she had your attention by her beauty alone or even the idea of it, she would slap you across the face and plant a knee in the balls, as you people affectionately call them. Be thankful she's not here." He sighed. "Gods rest her soul."

Edgar couldn't keep his grin down as he selected a bottle of whiskey from the cabinet. "Ah, yes. That certainly sounds like a certain buxom blonde I know, although she would do more than slap and destroy a man's bag of jewels." He blew the dust from the bottle and held it for Ramuh to see. "You, my esperian friend, are in for a treat. Irvine Kinneas', distilled in the year of our King, 924. A fine year for whiskey."

"Seventy-six-year-old whiskey? I do not know this Irvine Kinneas, but I truly hope his taste in distilled alcohol is far better than that of your Returner leader and his fermented urine."

"Ah, yes. We Figarians refer to that type of ale as something rather inappropriate. 'Cat's Piss,' I believe." Edgar waggled a finger. "I prefer something less offensive and more dignified in both taste and in name. If Celes were here, she would agree with me. For an Imperial, and a woman to boot, she has quite the eye for a good gentlemanly Figarian drink."

Ramuh harrumphed with the sound of distant thunder and a stroke of his beard. "You sound smitten," he said.

Edgar chuckled softly and popped the cork on the bottle. He and Celes? The day that would happen would be the day that frosting-covered, rainbow-farting cats of pastry flew through the sky. "Another lifetime perhaps," he said as he poured two glasses worth. "Perhaps one where she is less drawn to the fairer sex and herself less blatantly smitten with a certain half-esper." He paused as he handed Ramuh a glass. A memory of the first time he had met Celes surfaced, from before he knew of her interests in love. It wasn't an entirely pleasant memory, although when seen through hindsight's filter it was slightly humorous. Keyword: slightly, even if the phantom pain still made him cringe. He said with a sigh, "It is just as well. I quite enjoy my nether regions intact and unbruised."

Ramuh gave a knowing nod before taking a small drink. "Ah, yes. There was a reason the courts nicknamed Frigg 'Die Königin des Eise,' or 'Queen of the Ice' in your modern tongue."

Edgar raised an eyebrow in surprise. "'Queen of the Ice,' you say?"

"Indeed. And it had nothing do with the elemental magic she wielded. I can assure you."

"Interesting. Celes is known throughout the lands as 'The Ice Queen.'" Edgar paused to flash a mischievous grin. "Thanks in part to my shining influence, I might add." He chukled. "…Mostly."

Ramuh's bushy eyebrows grew in response to his own surprise. "Interesting."

"A queen Celes is not, but general of the military is close enough for comparison's sake."

"It seems the Goddess of Time has a strange sense of humor. Your Celes is more like Frigg than I initially thought."

"Could they be related?"

"I can't say for certain. As a half-esper, Frigg was unable to conceive a child, thus ending the bloodline squarely at her. But I cannot ignore the physical or magical similarities. However…" As Ramuh stroked his beard, a look came over his face giving the impression that he was lost.

"However?"

The look disappeared. "However, it is entirely possible Frigg's father had a bastard child somewhere that I was unaware of. He was quite known for his--" Ramuh cleared his throat with a rumble of thunder. "--promiscuity."

Edgar took a sip of his liquid fire and broadened his grin before the burning stopped. "Ah, infidelity! We cannot have a good story without it somewhere!"

Aika sighed and ran a finger over the waxy texture of the paper coffee cup in her hand. One of the worst things about being new to the air pirating business under Setzer Gabbiani was the boredom of night watch. Thankfully, coffee was provided, but it just wasn't enough. It kept them awake on most nights, but with the boss having the only airship in the world, aside from Vector's still-grounded newborn Royal Airforce, there was really nothing to look out for. While airborne, there was no way that anyone or anything could manage to take over the ship, let alone get on board. And the one person who could cause trouble tonight was nothing more than a pampered songstress under lock and key.

Night watch was so incredibly dull. And these stupid paper cups with their playing card designs were so cheap…and stupid and left one with a weird waxy after-feeling that took hours to go away. She looked to her lifelong friend and companion in crime Vyse, who looked just as bored as she, his one good eye and eye-patched other drooping in exhaustion. The both of them were on the deck, leaning on the outer wall of the bridge, and watching the sunset skies for intruders. "Vyse, I'm bored," she said after an indeterminate period of silence.

Vyse grimaced after taking a sip of his coffee; the so-called gourmet taste was obviously too gourmet for his liking. "I know how you feel, Aika," he said, "but we're the young blood here. We don't call the shots."

This was true. They had joined Setzer's crew six months prior after an 'accident' had opened up a couple of spots. Of course, this meant they got stuck with menial jobs on a regular basis – cleaning the galley, cleaning the latrines-- Ew. --scrubbing the deck, night watch. Aika didn't have to become an air pirate to be treated like a jerk or a maid. She could have gotten a job with Pruert Durmoch if she had wanted that. Still, there weren't too many options for South Figarian orphans. At least Setzer provided clothing, food, shelter, and health insurance on top of their weekly pay. And he wasn't a pervert to boot!

"I know," she said. "But I'm half tempted to take control of the airship and go off to find some adventure!"

"We'll get there someday, Aika." Vyse winked at her with his one good eye. "Just have a little faith, huh."

"I know, Vyse. I'm just impatient. I want some action."

He laughed. "Be careful what you wish for. Or it may turn out that that streak of light we saw earlier was that Fire Witch that everybody's been talking about!"

Aika nearly snorted coffee out her nose. The Fire Witch?! That Imperial woman who was rumored to have taken down Doma single-handedly, had nearly destroyed Narshe, and assassinated a slew of Returner sympathizers?! That joke wasn't funny as that woman was a very real threat to anyone who opposed the Empire, including air pirates. "Shut up!" she said before punching his shoulder. "I highly doubt any of those bastard Imperials can fly!" Still, the thought of a dangerous woman who controlled fire and flight was a scary one. But if anyone with that kind of power did manage to get on board, what could just the two of them do?

Vyse grinned and offered a shrug. "Maybe. Maybe not. Just be careful with what you say, okay? You'll jinx our string of good luck."

"Fine. …Whatever." Despite how right he was, she still had an itch for something to happen, some excitement! Anything! A bandit raid! Setzer streaking around the deck! Vyse streaking around the deck! Vyse actually noticing that she cared about him! That songstress actually turning out to be an undercover military agent! The possibilities of excitement were endless! …and very far away from her grasp. "Actually, you got any idea why we've been flying in circles around Jidoor?"

Vyse shrugged once again. "Boss is hoping to ransom off that songstress for a large sum of money, but I think he's secretly hoping they don't pay so he can keep her to himself."

"You think they want her back?"

"Without a doubt," Vyse said with a laugh. "Without her bringing in the money with her looks and voice, Jidoor will lose what makes it so wealthy."

Aika took a sip of her disgusting, wax flavored sludge. "Well, that sucks to have an entire city's economic status rely on a single person's good looks."

"I know! It shouldn't work in real world applications, but there you go."

"She is pretty," Aika mumbled as she stared into her cup.

Vyse hummed an agreement. "She looks young for someone in her thirties, and really well muscled for someone who sings in an opera house all day."

"Maybe she works out?"

"Hmm. Maybe."

"And maybe she eats the souls of men to keep that youthful appearance?"

"Oh, now that's just silly!"

The two laughed hysterically before falling into a comfortable silence. It hadn't been long afterward that Aika picked out a strange noise amongst the normal whirring of the airship engines. It sounded like…screaming? She felt the frown of puzzlement commandeer her face when she turned to Vyse. "Hey," she said. "You hear that?" Vyse showcased his own and turned an ear to where the sound seemed strongest. Was it getting louder?

In the center of the deck, two dark figures belly-flopped with loud slapping, floor vibrating thuds. Silence met with a groan before a shadow grumbled, "Oh, man, that hurt!"

"I think I just swallowed my lungs," coughed another, this one more feminine.

Aika froze in place. Even Vyse seemed not to know how to best respond. Never in their wildest imaginations did they ever think someone would get on the ship during flight, let alone fall onto it. Even Setzer had admitted that the night watch was merely a formality. And yet… A human-sized fireball crashed onto the deck, extinguishing itself the exact moment the wooden planks under it shattered into a million shards. But something strange happened in that instance, almost like a hiccup in reality. The shattering was merely a perceived view into an alternate reality where it had actually occurred. This current reality decided that the planks would instead blacken to charcoal and warp out of shape where the pink cat-girl had landed.

"Sorry, guys," she said, her voice coming from everywhere, nowhere, and her mouth at the same time. "My grip slipped. Guess I can't carry two people at the same time."

"I think I need a doctor," complained the feminine one.

"So does my spine," said the masculine one voice.

Aika grabbed Vyse's arm and shook it. "It's the Fire Witch!" she said in a whisper. "You just had to give her the power of flight!"

"How was I to know she'd actually target us?!" Vyse whispered harshly. It appeared that they hadn't been noticed by the intruders. Nope, scratch that. The Fire Witch looked up and pierced them with devilish amber red eyes. It had been like staring into the burning coals of a roaring fire. This was game over.

The Fire Witch stood to her full height, which was not much taller than Aika herself. But coupled with her demanding presence, fear inducing inhuman appearance, and her ability to hover above the freaking ground she towered over them. "Where's Celes?" she demanded. Behind her, a tail twitched erratically.

Aika again turned to Vyse. She knew that look. He was just as puzzled and afraid as she was. "Celes?" she stuttered. "We don't have anyone with that name on board."

The Fire Witch's eyes roamed around the deck before stopping back on them. "I call shenanigans," she said. "She's here. I can sense her nearby, plus I watched Setzer drug and kidnap her. …I want her back."

Aika gasped. Had they kidnapped the wrong woman?! The octopus fight scene that hadn't supposed to be in The Dream Oath suddenly made sense now. But the boss had been so confident that he'd had the right songstress!

Vyse unsheathed his twin cutlasses and took a step in front of her. "Aika," he said on the low, "I'll hold the Fire Witch off! Sound the alarm!"

"What in the Sega Dreamcast is wrong with you?! She'll slaughter you with fire!"

"She'll slaughter us both if you don't get the rest of the crew up here!" He turned his attention to the Fire Witch and adopted an aggressive stance. "Moons, give me strength!"

Aika swore under her breath and hightailed it towards the door to the bridge. She had almost expected a firestorm to engulf her and stop her, but none did. At the door, she turned back to give one last look to Vyse and saw only a flash of rainbow.

Celes coughed as she removed herself from the floor and the mess of ice and wood scattered around her. At least her idea of freezing the door solid and body-slamming through it had worked. The alternative of smashing a window and scaling the outside of the airship had been a frightening thought; a last resort and one she was glad she didn't have to go through with. After quickly grabbing her bearings-- Hallway. Possibly the middle of the ship. Blaring alarms. --she realized that something was going down somewhere on the ship, and it wasn't her. She had heard a group of Setzer's men pass by her door not a few minutes prior and mention something about stowaways on the deck, but with all the noise she had been unable to grab all the details.

It had to be Terra. Only the sweet girl would be foolish enough, impatient enough, sweet enough, and able enough to storm an airship by herself to unnecessarily save her. If Locke and Sabin were with her, then, no doubt, it wasn't by choice. And if it was Terra, that meant that she had finally rediscovered her ability to fly. And for Celes, that meant that she now had to diffuse the situation and still somehow take over the ship.

God dammit!

She brushed renegade bits of wood that had gotten caught in her new jacket and pants as she ran through the corridor. The mixture of bright yellows and deep purples were eye catchers for sure, but she didn't bother sticking to the shadows to hide it or herself. There was no point nor was there time. She was needed elsewhere, like yesterday. She didn't even stop to wonder why there were so many large fruit boxes in the hallways, despite nearly tripping over several. She did notice that the gambling motif of her room was present everywhere and in full force.

Luckily, the ship wasn't big on the grand scale of things, which allowed her to find the bridge with ease. Oddly, the double doorway was wide open, allowing her a quick chance to survey the room before she took cover beside it. There was no one there. Through the massive bay windows, she could see a crowd of air pirates on the deck outside, smack-dab in the middle of a standstill. There were about twenty of them, including the silver-haired gentleman in the center whom she assumed to be Setzer. The worst part was he and his crew had what looked like MagiTek rifles drawn at her would-be rescuers.

Celes dove into the room and took cover behind a desk. Baldur's Gate, this was bad! They'd be fried before they could make a move. And based on Locke's stance in front of Terra as well as the look of unmistakable rage she possessed, he was holding her back from doing something reckless. She scanned the room with haste and a pinch of panic. There had to be something she could use as a distraction!

"Greetings once again," she heard Setzer say from the other side of the glass. "Kudos on achieving something never done before - storming my airship. Tell me, how did you manage such a feat?" Good gods, he had such a deep voice that the floorboards rattled from its bassiness. Or maybe those vibrations were from the engines. It was hard to tell.

The bridge was filled with typical bridge-like things: instruments, charting equipment, flashing lights, controls, levers, a nautical steering wheel. Unless she could open the windows and throw charts at them, there wasn't much she could do. She could always do a badass maneuver and leap through the glass, startling everyone and using the element of surprise to her advantage. But with no weapon for protection that was a rather silly idea. Besides, she wanted to keep these people alive. She had no idea how to fly an airship. Also, she doubted killing any of Setzer's crew would win bonus points with him.

Terra snorted and said, "We walked." Well, that was a catty response. Her kitten certainly was not a happy kitten and based on the fact that there was an air pirate face down in the middle of the deck, one of them had found out that kitty had claws - very fiery claws. Hopefully, he wasn't too injured.

Setzer laughed for a moment before turning maudlin again. The switch had happened so fast that it had been jarring. "Amusing. Why are you people here?"

And then she noticed it. She had passed by so many on her way here, boxes with the label 'MGS Fruits' and a drawing of a happy, apple-eating snake. She recognized this mascot: Midgard Sormer, Magical Guardian Snake's beloved fruit mascot who was popular in the lower levels of Vector. Underneath was the tagline, "Midgard Sormer says 'Upper Plate Happiness for the Lower Plate Price!'" How quaint. Appearance aside, the box looked just large enough that she could fit under it and crawl her way out to the deck without being seen. Then she could sneak up behind Setzer and take him hostage.

Element of surprise? Check. Instant situation diffuser? Check. Happy imagery irrelevant to the situation? Check. Murder on the back and the knees for a top-heavy individual? Check. Still, one had to wonder what an air pirate was doing with empty boxes of fruit from the slums of Vector. But that was another obsession for another time. She had to focus.

"We need passage to Vector," Locke said. "All other avenues of travel have been cut off to us." Funny. He sounded different, but how she couldn't put her finger on.

Setzer scoffed. "And why should I help Imperials, especially the dangerous Fire Witch, back to their homeland? While the Empire has been good for the black market business, they're no friends of mine."

On her elbows and knees, Celes grabbed the nearby box and quietly lowered it over herself. She just barely fit. She was going to have to move slowly lest the noise of the jostling cardboard draw attention. It also didn't help that she had to use the small handhold cutout to view her surrounds. Hopefully, she didn't bump into anything on the way out.

"We're not Imperials," Locke said. "We're Returners."

"--on a mission to kick Imperial ass!" Sabin said.

As Celes crawled her way out of the bridge and onto the flight deck, she cursed the fact that she couldn't see diddly through her view hole. She especially cursed Sabin for letting loose why they wanted into Vector. She had hoped to keep everything hush-hush just in case Setzer couldn't be trusted. So much for that.

Setzer laughed himself silly. "Intriguing," he said, "but as they say, 'Pull the other one.'" As Celes neared the corner of the bridge, several clicks made her heart stop. She knew those clicks. They had prepped their MagiTek rifles for firing! She upped her pace and quickly crawled past what she assumed were a couple of confused air pirates. To hell with pain-free knees and back! She needed to stop this!

Terra snorted once again and said, "I'm not touching anything that's called 'the other one.' Ew."

Setzer chuckled. "Cute," he said. "Men, throw these 'Returners' in the brig until we decide what do with them."

She was almost there. Just a little bit further.

"I'm not going down without a fight!" Sabin cried.

"Me either!" Locke said.

Setzer said, "You either surrender peacefully or the Fire Witch finds herself full of lead. Which is it?"

And there she was, at the back of his legs. Celes used the ensuing fallout of silence to her advantage in making her grand, surprise entrance. With one swift motion, she tossed the box off of her back, leaped to her feet, willed an ice dagger into existence, and pulled Setzer close with a hostage hold. She hoped that her tight grip, as well as the sharp tip at his neck, would deter any thoughts of escape. "G'day, mate!" she said in his ear. His whole body went rigid as a board, cementing him in place. Good. He wasn't going anywhere. His lackeys, on the other hand, turned towards them and readjusted their collective aim.

Excellent. She was now the center of attention.

Terra, across the deck, called out her name in pure surprise and maybe a hint of joy. Celes flashed a puckish grin in her direction before turning her attention back to her captive and his allies. "How's about a third option?" she said. "You and your hired goons lower your firearms, and I'll think about not giving you a new breathing hole and/or freezing your balls solid." Everything became so quiet that the whirring of the airship's engines and the air whistling around them nearly drowned out the gasps from the air pirates. "No worries, mate. Take all the time you need to decide."

"You're not Maria," Setzer finally said, albeit very slowly. His firearm lowered to his side.

"Look, I'm not one for this cloak and dagger gig, but we did the bait and switch because we need help into Vector. You're the only one--"

Setzer scoffed, cutting her off. "If you're not Maria we have nothing further to discuss. Men--"

Celes tightened her grip and thrust her icy point dangerously close, nearly on the verge of letting blood. "Oh, I think we do, hey," she said over his grunt of pain. "You really need to consider your predicament here, Sunny Jim. See that big wall of muscles over there?" She nodded in Sabin's direction, and a received a response in kind. "Sabin Rene Figaro, the beloved crown prince of Figaro. What do you think'll happen once his older brother, King Edgar, finds out he died seeking your assistance?"

Her question was met with silence. Several of Setzer's crew lowered their expressions and weapons giving her the impression that at least they understood the implications. "And the other bloke is a well-respected high-ranking Returner by the name of Locke Cole, who just so happens to be best friends with--" Celes cackled. "What a coincidence! --King Edgar of Figaro. Guess who'll be coming after you if something happens to him. Certainly not the Empire, mate."

Again, silence danced around her like a sexy coven of naked witches in the forest. More of Setzer's crew lowered their weapons. She was beginning to get the impression that this mob was more aligned with the ideals of the Returners than they cared to admit. But then again, Edgar and the Figaro kingdom were well respected outside the Empire. "That girl with the wild green hair, the 'Fire Witch' as you mooks love calling her. Her name's Terra - a former Imperial MagiTek Knight, I might add, and a deadly one at that. As for me, I used to be a high-ranking Imperial General."

Setzer flinched before returning to rigid. He turned his head just slightly to look at her from the corner of his eye and said with the softness of disbelief, "General?"

Celes made sure that he saw a friendly grin. "Former General Celestial Rosa Chere," she said. "All of us are members of the Returners and officially under Figaro's protection. Kill us, imprison us… Either way, you're going to have Figarian soldiers and Returners fishing you out of the sky and making your life in this part of the world a living hell. Do you really want that?"

A long moment had passed before Setzer spoke. "No. I have no desire to gain Figaro's ire."

Inwardly, Celes sighed with relief. The situation was dissolved. "And I don't want to put my foot up your arse," she said. She released him from her grip and made a show of thawing her weapon into a fine mist. "Look, we've gotten off to a bad start, hey, and for that, I apologize. But we had no other means to contact you."

Setzer took a step away from her before turning to regard her with a scrutinizing frown. Finally, he holstered his firearm, which surprisingly was an old-fashioned gun powder powered revolver. Celes had only seen one of those in a museum as manufacturing had halted at the advent of MagiTek. He shot her a grin, readjusted his leather duster, and motioned to the remainder of his crew to stand down. "Fair enough, mademoiselle. Let's talk, then," he said. "But don't misunderstand, I haven't agreed to help you. And I'm still not entirely sure why you need me or my airship."

Celes sighed. Now to work on getting what they really wanted. And since Sabin had already let the cat out of the bag, there was no point in keeping it a secret. "Long story short, our mission is to take down the Empire's MagiTek Facility and free the espers held captive there. To do that, we need to be in Vector."

"The Empire, for the most part, has left me and my operations alone. I don't agree with some of their methods, but I see no reason in stirring up a hornet's nest when I don't have to."

"Doma had said the same thing. Look at them now," Locke said from behind. As he came to a stop beside her, Celes couldn't help but notice that he looked different. Fuller in the chest? She couldn't tell in the dim light.

"This is true," Setzer said, "but if I'm not mistaken, they had been holding Imperial scouts hostage."

"Imperial scouts that had no bloody business being there in the first place," Celes said as she slammed a fist into a palm for emphasis. "There was nothing strategic about Doma. Kefka wrecked the place because he had been bloody bored that week!"

"Is this why Figaro has gone to war with the Empire?" Setzer raised an eyebrow in Sabin's direction.

Sabin, in turn, only shrugged. "Mostly," he said. "We have other…more personal reasons as well. Although, mine may differ slightly compared to my brother's."

When a slender hand touched Celes on her hip, she knew that Terra had come up behind her. Her theory had been confirmed when Terra said, "I had suffered mind control under Kefka, and now I don't remember some things." Setzer raised an eyebrow at this. "He used me because I'm half-esper." His other eyebrow, feeling lonely, joined the other. "I'd rather heal people than kill them."

Celes folded her arms across her chest and said, "The straw that broke the chocobo's back for Figaro had been Kefka trying to burn the castle down. And all because I sought refuge there after he had tried and failed to have me killed because I dared to be vocal in my disagreements with him and the Emperor."

Setzer nodded in silence as his face scrunched itself as small as it could. She could see the gears slowly turning as he mulled their story over in his head. He took a brief moment to regard each one of them, but his gaze lingered on her for far longer than she liked. Terra must have noticed as well because she latched onto her side like a bloodsucking leech. Celes didn't have to look to see the scowl on Terra's face. She could feel it, and it was scary.

Setzer chuckled and made a show of brushing silver hair from his scarred face. "You know, General Chere," he said, "You come across as bold. Daring even. You may be more beautiful than Maria."

Terra's nails started digging into her arm, but Celes ignored it. This had to be handled delicately, or they'd lose their chance. She said, "I've heard similar things from all sorts of men over the years. What does it have to do with taking us to bloody Vector?"

"If you become my wife, I'll take you to Vector. Otherwise…"

She physically recoiled when surprise punched her in the gut and disgust followed through with an uppercut. Wife?! He wanted her to be his wife? Was he absolutely out of his mind? She was in no way wife material!

A fiery scowl broke out on Terra's face as she stormed her way between the two of them. "No!" she growled. "We'll find another way! We'll swim! I'll fly us there one by one if I have to!"

Celes placed a finger on Terra's lips, silencing her. That was a tempting offer, but if they needed a quick escape from Downunder, and they probably would, then they would be screwed as a whole. Mayhap she could guide this negotiation in another direction. "I prefer women, not men," she said. "And if you haven't already guessed, I'm already taken. You really expect me to agree to this?"

Setzer crossed his arms and smirked at her. "Those are my terms," he said, "and I have no intention of changing them. You want passage into Vector? I have your only means there, and I'm in the market for a beautiful wife. I think that's a fair trade."

Locke mumbled, "Says the air pirate who steals and sells on the black market."

Celes took a moment to share a glance with rest of her group. Terra was on the verge of tears of rage. She obviously would not be level-headed enough to help here; although, flying away was sounding more and more like a good idea. Locke was absolutely mortified over the situation as he should have been. It had been his idea that put her in this predicament in the first place. And Sabin… Typical Sabin just shrugged his shoulders. But--

Something caught her eye. Something shiny. She had never noticed it before dangling around his neck - a gold medallion that had the appearance of a gil coin. She snapped her gaze back towards Setzer. He was a known gambler and judging from the décor of the inside of the ship and the contents of the room he had locked her in, he really loved gambling. But would he be able to resist a game of chance?

Celes made a show of kissing Terra on the forehead before letting loose her biggest grin. "Fair enough, mate," she said. "I can't argue, but I do have stipulations of my own, hey. A coin toss. Heads, you help us and join the Returners. Tails…" She risked a look at Terra and broke her own heart with the sight of those beautiful green eyes in tears. She was going to regret saying this. She sighed in defeat and, ignoring Terra's outburst, muttered, "Tails, I'm yours."

Setzer's dark eyes lit up like Vector at night as he rubbed his hands together in greedy excitement. "A game of chance?" he said with hearts in his eyes. "Truly a woman after my own heart! I like it!" His crew looked about as if they couldn't believe what they were seeing. Of course, Celes sympathized. She couldn't believe this was happening, either. It was like some kind of nightmare that was more bizarre divine comedy than frightening.

Terra stammered protests until Celes gave her a squeeze. A hand on her shoulder brought her attention to Locke. "You can't be serious with this!" he said. "You were ready to smash my face in for suggesting you wear a dress!"

"Right, and I'm still aggro about it because it's gotten me into this bloody mess."

Locke recoiled as if he had been slapped.

Terra's protest finally surfaced. "Celes, if you marry him, then that means…"

Celes gave Terra another squeeze. "I know, sweetheart," she said, "but if this is what it takes to get the job done, then so be it. You want to save the espers, right?" Terra nodded in response and seemed pained in doing so. Honestly, Celes wasn't happy about it either, but hopefully, luck was on her side today. The last thing she truly wanted was a life of housework, popping out kids, and faking intimacy with someone who didn't tickle her fancy. And the worst part was that she had just agreed to all of those things, a life without Terra, if she lost. She turned to Sabin and barked, "Flip your medallion, Sabin. Unless Mr. Gabbiani has any objections?"

Setzer shook his head, all the while with a giddy shit-eating grin present on his face. "As the lady said."

Sabin briefly expressed his concern with a goofy frown as he slipped his medallion over his head. He removed it from its chain and readied it for flight. "All right," he said. "Here we go." With a flick of his thumb, it went careening into the air. Celes craned her neck to watch it arc into the darkened sky, but swiftly lost sight of it. After an ephemeral eternity, it landed on the deck behind her. It bounced several times before coming to a stop between Setzer's feet. Even in the dim light, Celes could see the outcome. It was plain as day.

Heads.

This was a magic moment of a glory night. The winds of chance had blown in their favor, ringing the freedom bells that brought peace of mind. Celes sighed, allowing the build-up of stress and anxiousness to leave her body. Terra did the same, but with deranged, stress filled laughter. Celes put an arm around her waist before regarding Setzer. "Well," she said, "allow me to be the first to welcome you fine lot to the ranks of the Returners."

Setzer said nothing as he picked up the medallion. He continued to say nothing as he turned it every which way to study it. It was only when he looked up to Sabin did he say, "A Figarian minted gil? I've never seen one of these."

"My father had it minted days before he was killed by the Empire," Sabin said. "It was to symbolize that Edgar and I would lead Figaro into prosperity."

Setzer nodded as if he found the whole thing interesting. Next thing Celes knew, the medallion was flying straight at her face. She caught it with her free hand and looked it over to discover what was so fascinating. At first glance, it was a standard gil coin. The size and weight were the same as was, she assumed, its metallic makeup. What made this different was its minted image. Instead of a raised surface resembling the face of Emperor Gestahl, it was one of Edgar. She flipped it over and, instead of the expected image of the Imperial Palace, she found…Sabin? The hair style was different, but there was no mistaking her favorite Figarian martial artist prince. She had unwittingly chosen a doubled headed coin and called for heads? The winds of chance must have really loved her tonight!

Setzer said, "Now, I could say that I've been hustled and demand a retoss with a new coin."

Oh, no. He wasn't getting off that easily. "True, mate, but we agreed on the coin," she said with a slight edge. "Not my fault you failed to inspect it. Besides, that's the risk you take in a game of chance, isn't it?"

Setzer laughed haughtily, surprising everyone around him. "It is!" he cried as he clapped with excitement. "What are the odds? I love it!"

Celes extended her hand. "So, we have a deal?"

With much enthusiasm, he took her hand and shook it. If he shook it any harder, he'd rip her arm out of her socket. "Of course! Gambling against the Empire; nothing to lose but my life! I'm a chip in your pile!"

All it took was a knocking sound to send Celes crashing out of a peaceful sleep and into alert mode. She laid perfectly still, eyes darting in all directions, and waited for the next sound to pinpoint its location in the darkness. Terra, on the other hand, mumbled something indecipherable in her sleep, rolled over, and face-planted into Celes' neck.

Time in the darkness passed, and no other sound snapped into being. Had she imagined it? Had it been a dream? Not finding any immediate answers, she forced her reflexes to relax, leaned into the bare form next to her, and waited for sleep to dominate her.

A foreign hand trailed down her stomach and found its way to massaging her inner thigh, prompting her to arch herself upward with a stifled gasp. Lips suckling on her neck and shoulder soon followed. It seemed that Terra had another idea in mind – for the third time this evening. "Baldur's Gate, Terra," she said with a hitch when a sensitive spot had been brushed. "Again?" Terra merely giggled with exhaustion.

A knock from the door, similar to the one heard earlier, shot Celes up to her elbows, which elicited a groan of protest from Terra. A glance at the nearby timepiece told her that it was two-god-damn-early o'clock. Who the bloody hell wanted a chat at this hour and why the hell were they interrupting? She rubbed the sleep from one of her eyes and grumbled, "Piss off."

"Celes? You awake?" It was Locke.

"I wasn't until you came along."

"Can we talk? It's…important."

This was surprising. Locke wasn't one to talk needlessly despite his level of friendliness. Locke also wasn't one to wake people up in the middle of the night without reason. Of course, this meant there was something bothering him. It was either about the hypothetical events that had nearly transpired with Setzer, which Locke blamed himself for, or it was about Ultros' gender-swap curse that Terra had been insofar unable to reverse. Neither were good topics to discuss at this hour.

Celes sighed in frustration and flopped back down into the bed which gave Terra an immediate opportunity to resume what she had been doing before the interruption. She certainly wasn't helping matters. "Can it wait until morning?" she said with ice.

There was a pause on the other side of the door. "It could, but then I won't get any sleep because of it. Also, I'll just keep knocking until you come out."

"You're bloody savage, Cole." Celes grumbled a growl and reluctantly pried herself away from Terra's pleasurable administrations. Bloody thief making her get out of bed. Bloody girl making cute and quiet whines of protest. Bloody thief making her miss another random middle-of-the-night encounter of bed-time exploration. Bloody girl tossing their clothes everywhere.

In the darkness, all she had been able to find had been a pair of underwear, whose she hadn't been sure, and her blouse. She briefly considered searching harder, but to hell with it. Her desire to get this talk over with and get back to the bed and the girl calling to her was greater than a need for clothing. Besides, it was still dark out. The important bits were covered. That was good enough. She opened the door partway to prevent prying eyes from spying on Terra's naked form and leaned out just enough for her head and shoulders to pass through.

"I'm flattered that you feel comfortable half-naked around me."

Locke was leaning with his back against the wall directly beside her, head down, eyes closed, a frown dominating his face. At this angle, she got a good clear look at just what had changed in his masculinity, not that he'd been dripping with it in the first place. He looked exactly the same other than a modest pair of breasts. Such attributes should have looked out of place on him, but if anything, he wore them as if they were nothing new. Of course, it truly was hard to tell; he wore a poker face in the darkness. That he was making jokes was a good sign.

"Don't kid yourself," she said with a snort. "I couldn't find my trousers. What did you want?"

"I wanted to discuss…me."

Celes sighed. "Look, mate. I sympathize, but there's nothing I can do. Terra's already tried to reverse the spell and, I know I've mentioned this numerous times, I don't know healing magic." A half-truth, but if she went off spouting about how she had an alter-ego inside her head that did, they'd toss her in a place far, far away from the general public. "You're just going to have to either wait for it to dispel on its own or learn to live with dead weight on your chest."

Silence hung in the air between them for some time before Locke opened an eye to look at her. "You mean you didn't recog--" The one eye multiplied to a surprised two. "I guess I was mistaken. Sorry for waking you, Celes. Go back to sleep." And with that, he started walking away.

He pulled her away from bedtime shenanigans just to tell her to go back to sleep? "Hey, wait a second! You're not making any bloody sense, mate," she said. "Did Ultros screw up more than just your looks?"

Locke merely waved the back of his hand at her before turning the corner. She could have sworn she heard him mutter, "Ultros didn't screw up anything."

It didn't take long to realize that he wasn't coming back. Celes closed the door and leaned up against it with a sigh. What the bloody hell had that been about?

Terra bolted out of their quarters with such urgency that she hadn't dressed properly. Of course, it hadn't helped that she had overslept. She ran down the corridor, boots and stockings in one hand and twin katana in the other. She passed the galley along the way and called good mornings to the two crewmen she had unwittingly fought last night. Upon reaching the deck, she found Celes with Sabin, Setzer, and a once again masculine Locke looking out into the eastern sky. The air was brisk out here, causing goose flesh to form on the exposed parts of her arms and legs. She approached the group and followed their line of sight. She promptly stopped in her tracks and, with her mouth open in awe, dropped the rest of her clothing in the process.

She saw it just off the horizon, nestled behind a mountain range; a dark, circular cloud. A tall, even darker spire penetrated its center and tore at the sky. The sun's light, which was rising behind, seemed afraid to shine on the area, leaving it in perpetual darkness. Underneath those clouds was the largest, most advanced city in the world; the most dangerous city in the world. It was the place that was the reason for the world's troubles, the source of her amnesia and Celes' sadness. It was the destroyer of her people and the place she and Celes had once called home. Terra was so excited and filled with dread at the sight that she couldn't stop shaking. Even at this distance, she could feel the malevolence and despair; it was like free falling into a brick wall.

They had arrived in the land Downunder.

They had arrived at Vector.

^[1] If he were to get involved with the naming conventions, he'd most certainly be pushing for "Hoover," after the rumored slagworm of Downunder that consumed all in its path.^[return]

^[2] Tweet: a short encoded message typically sent by stealthy carrier pigeons.^[return]

Chapter Text

Tzen, the town of the fallen kings, had once been a sprawling metropolis and the seat of an ancient continent-spanning kingdom. When Emperor Gestahl's young father broke Vector away into its own city-state, he had sown the seeds for uneasy alliances and broken promises. "Vector is the oldest city in the world!" he had shouted to his followers from his stately balcony as dictators typically did, in his pajamas no less. "We're the leaders in new ways, new technology! We deserve to lead the world into a new era!" Forty years of bloody war then followed, only ending when a young Emperor Gestahl ravaged Tzen and, without mercy, slaughtered the royal family. When Old Man Gestahl died, the current Emperor took his place, ruling Downunder with an iron fist, starting needless conquests on the other continents, and conducting questionable experiments of questionable natures. It wasn't soon after that espers happened, catapulting Vector's technology forward by nearly a hundred hypothetical years and for all the wrong reasons.

Those very reasons were dangerous embarrassments, affronts to any Imperial who had a decent sense of morality, and stains on their records that would never scrub clean nor fade away. No amount of cleaner would ever bleach away the pain. No amount of alcohol would ever drown the sorrows. No amount of vengeance would ever ease the anger. Celes could forgive what the Gestahlian Empire had personally done to her, but what they had done to Terra… To Doma… Maranda… All those innocents over the years…

They say history repeats itself. Some say because of divine intervention. Others say it's just the law of nature. In this case, it's because human beings are fickle creatures who only learn from the past warnings written on the wall when it's far too late.

As for Tzen, people died, moved away, or were forced to relocate to Vector and join the newly rebranded Imperial Army. Large sections of the city soon crumbled away becoming breeding grounds for ghosts, legends, and other more dangerous creepy crawlies. Proof of this could be found in the smattering of ruins found for miles around the northern coast, the aptly named Marble Gardens – urban ruins so dangerous that not even the locals dared to enter for a prize in the form of an ice cream bar coated with a hard chocolate shell. It wasn't the ghosts or the legends that scared them. It was the long list of dangerous monsters; the dog-like dons and ralphs, the dragonfly-like grasswyrms, Litwor's Chickenlips – the nightmarish crossing of a centipede and a rooster on steroids, the draconic wyverns, and former Imperial experiments let loose into the wild – jokers.^[1] That was just naming a few out of hundreds or even thousands. But let's move on; a bestiary study this is not.

It was this quaint, run down shell of a town that Setzer had chosen to use as a base for his part in the mission because of supposed business. He also hadn't wanted to land any closer to Vector, a sentiment no one had questioned. An airship landing just outside the city of eternal darkness would certainly be scrutinized. This mission required stealth in and, touch wood, stealth out. Upon touchdown, he, Vyse, and Aika, armed with boxes of MGS Fruits, had disappeared into the dark alleys leading into the Marble Gardens, leaving the rest of group to their own devices. It hadn't mattered, anyway. He wasn't going into Vector. Someone needed to stay behind, ready for a quick getaway if needed, and that may as well be him. Hopefully, nothing happened to them in those ruins.

Celes was familiar enough with Tzen to know that they needed to be on the move and soon. It would only be a matter of time before someone recognized her and sent word to Imperial HQ. The last thing they needed was a garrison of MagiTek Soldiers crammed up their asses. She leaned up against a free space of the general store's stone wall and watched as a captivated Terra followed Locke around as he gathered supplies. She was like a little girl fascinated by anything that sparkled, hitting him with a barrage of questions. "What's that? What's that do? Can it do anything else? How did they make it? Can we eat it? What if we add ketchup? Can we eat it, then?" Those were just a small sampling. Celes couldn't help adopting a smirk; for once she didn't have questions directed at her.

Speaking of Locke, Ultros' gender-swap curse had dispelled itself rather quickly, despite Terra's multiple attempts to lift it. And even then, it was hard now to not see Locke in an entirely different light and marvel at just how feminine-looking he was. The structure of his face, the shape of his hips, as well as everything else, screamed woman. It was surprising that she had never taken notice until now. His voice was higher in tone than Edgar or Sabin's – hell, even her own. In fact, ever since she had started scrutinizing him more and more, she couldn't help but feel that she had met him somewhere once before, long before she had renounced the Empire and joined the Returners. Where kept slipping through her metaphorical fingers. It was possible that she might have seen him in Figaro, South Figaro, or even in battle somewhere. Anything was possible, though nothing was concrete.

Thinking about it now, what they knew about him had mostly come from an old man nearly off his rocker. All that they knew for sure was where he was from and that he had suffered a traumatic event at some point. Everything else conflicted depending on from where it had come. All attempts to get him to spill the beans, as they say, ended up wasted efforts deflected towards something else entirely. Just who was Locke Cole? Why the mystery? Why the conflicting information? Was he hiding something? Was she jumping to conclusions?

"You've been staring at Locke a lot lately," Sabin said from his squatting position beside her. "You tryin' to make Terra jealous?"

Celes shot a scowl in his direction. "I'm not that crazy, hey," she said. "And, for the record, it sounds like you're the jealous one. Want me to stare at you while I think?"

"I'm flattered, lady, but I like you in the you're-one-of-the-guys sort of way, y'know?" He cleared his throat. "No offense."

For the first time in several days, Celes laughed. She'd never had anyone say anything like that to her before. It was refreshing! Usually, it was an exclamation of thanks to one of the various gods along with an invite to a seedy apartment for what clearly wasn't coffee. "None taken, mate. I've just been thinking, and every time Locke just happens to be in my line of sight."

"Every time? You not thinkin' of switching teams on us, are you?" He snorted with laughter. "Or maybe you liked him better as a woman!"

Locke called out from the opposite side of the store, "I'm right here, you know!" This prompted more guffawing from Sabin.

"Uh, no. I'm quite happy with what I've got, Figaro."

"Then talk, lady. What's on your mind?"

Celes almost turned to look down at Sabin, but the obviously nervous shopkeeper drew her eyesight like a magnet. Shopkeeps only got nervous if a customer was wanted by the authorities or if they suspected theft of goods. This one knew who she was. It was obvious and needed to be rectified. "I'm thinking we need to skip on outta here. The sooner, the better," she said. "This isn't the Northern Continents. I was quite popular here with the general populous, and thus easily recognized. I'm sure my defection's been vilified by Gestahlian media as well."

Sabin stood and stretched his legs. "You expecting trouble?" he said.

"This is Downunder. Of course, I am. Everything's big, poisonous, and out to kill." She snorted and pushed herself away from the wall. "Even the people."

"Ah. That kind of trouble."

Before Locke and Terra could empty their baskets of various supplies, Celes shoved between them and dropped a hefty bag of gil on the counter. She could feel Locke's surprised and questioning look boring into the back of her head. They were tight on gil, yes, but hopefully, this would quell things before violence became necessary. She held a hand out in his direction, silencing his stuttering before it began, and never took her gaze off the shopkeep behind the counter. The old man's face went through several variations of surprise before settling back on nervousness.

"I can't take your gil, General," he said with a shake of his head.

"So, you do recognize me. Look, I know Tzen's bloody struggle with the Empire. There's two thousand gil in that bag, mate," she said. "More than what the supplies are worth. Take it anyway. An apology from a former Imperial and a request that you forget we were ever here."

They gathered their gear and had nothing further exciting happen to them before embarking on their journey through the Downunder outback. They were three day's foot travel from Vector, and this mission was one that could end up with someone or all of them dead, either by the hand of an Imperial or the nasty, sharp, pointy teeth of the local wildlife. Somber thoughts, maybe even a little pessimistic, but a reality. They were heading into the heart of the Empire, to the place that even the craziest Imperials, save Kefka, dared not tread. Celes was dreading it, but death wasn't one of her fears; she'd meet that bastard head on in any of his reaper games, even that really annoying one where players had to put hands and feet in different colored circles to become human pretzels. It was more she was afraid that, with a slave crown, someone could take control of her, Terra, or, gods forbid, both of them and spell the end of the world as they knew it. Or perhaps the Returners would construe her proximity to Vector as traitorous.

Once a traitor, always a traitor.

And then there was the warning that she had delivered to herself; cryptic mind-boggling mumbo-jumbo from an alternate esper-like ego calling herself Exposition. It was something an amnesiac would experience in a badly written adventure novel. Yet, instead of the amnesiac experiencing it, it was her.

"Please be wary of where you're traveling. I won't be able to protect you from what you may find there."

An amnesiac she was not; her memories were intact. She could remember everything from her childhood with crystal clarity, barring her parents, any family, and the magic infusion. Perhaps this was a side-effect of that procedure, a fact that Exposition had admitted to in a round-about way. It was hard to tell and even scarier to talk about. Celes didn't want the others, especially Terra, to accuse her of being crazy. But then again, she was leading the four of them straight into what could easily turn into the four of them versus all of Vector.

Split personality or not, she was fucking nuts.

Celes shoved the self-deprecating thoughts aside and rallied the group on for hours in the hot sun, carving their way through the tall grasses towards the mountains and the dark clouds to the south. This countryside and its fauna presented nothing new to her. The others, however, commented on its beautifulness, sparseness, and strangeness. "The land that time forgot," Locke had called it. She didn't share quite the same sentiment as she had grown up here, but now after a few times back and forth between the two continents, she understood what he had meant. The fauna in Downunder was different from that of the north – bigger, oddly shaped, almost prehistoric in nature. The wildlife instilled a similar feeling; they showed similarities to creatures long extinct elsewhere with some so drastically different from their nearest cousin that science failed classification. It didn't help that damn near everything was dangerous, poisonous, and able to kill a full-grown man in a matter of seconds if care was not observed. It also didn't help that the Empire dumped its failed genetic experiments and other monstrosities, the jokers included, in the bush to ravage travelers and natural wildlife.

If the heat had been the cause of their slow going, the wildlife had been what stopped them. Every few steps a hungry don tried eating their metaphorical baby, or they regretfully stepped too close to a nest of angry Litwor's chickenlips. It had been battle after battle after battle and nearly the entire day before they had finally been able to travel in peace. By then, it had been too late; the grumbling of stomachs and the sun rolling along the horizon reminded them that it was nearing time for camp. Wanting to stay away from open areas, Celes urged them to continue toward the shelter of a lone cliff face and a thick block of trees off in the distance. In the hot and dry grassy plains lands of Downunder that usually screamed of one thing – water.

The gamble paid off. Amongst the greenery, they discovered a quick flowing stream that fed a well-hidden spring by way of a small majestic waterfall from a plateau. The water was so clear that the bottom of the spring was visible, even with the dim light of dusk hindered by the trees. The waterfall roared with every passing drop, but not in an obnoxious loud-mouthed neighbor sort of way. It was relaxing, soothing, and unanimously beautiful, enough so that camp was made without question.

They sat around a crackling campfire and ate their meals in silence. The atmosphere, despite the natural beauty present, was apprehensive as if they all knew what was in store for them. The wildlife in Downunder was only a preview of what was awaiting them in the dark, dank underbelly of Vector.

Terra was the first to finish and seized the chance to doze lazily on Celes' shoulder. Celes took a moment, mid-bite of her sandwich, to pat her on her exposed thigh. "Don't fall asleep yet, hey," she said around chews. "I'm not making your bed."

"I'll just use yours," Terra mumbled.

Celes snorted with amusement. Yes. Knowing Terra, they'd end up in the same bedroll anyway. There was no point in fighting it. With that girl being so incredibly headstrong, it was inevitable.

Locke coughed, most probably due to the awkwardness of the unspoken sexual undertones. He followed with, "So, what's the plan? In getting into Vector, I mean."

Celes chuckled softly. "Says the bloke whose specialty is breaking and entering."

"Imperial camps are one thing," he said with a huff, "but an entire city I know very little about is a bit out of my league. Besides, I'm sure fake passports aren't going to get us in."

"With everything going on right now, I highly doubt the gate's even open. Hell, they probably activated the Guardians."

Sabin perked up with intrigue. "The Guardians?" he said. "That sounds ominous."

Celes nodded. "Nasty buggers, hey. Agile, spider-like machines that unload a never-ending barrage of MagiTek at anyone in their line of sight. Designed to keep interlopers out and dead if possible." She didn't think any of them would be silly enough to want to stage a full-frontal assault on Vector, but she paused to let that fact sink in regardless. "We'll have to sneak in through the sewage system and somehow find a way out of the slums and onto the upper plate."

This was assuming the Empire hadn't added any extra security measures. This was also assuming they made it out of the sewers and the slums in one piece. These were a lot of assumptions for a single plan. Was this really the best she could come up with?

Locke tapped his chin in thought. "So, uh, what's this upper plate? I've heard you mention it before."

Celes hugged her knees and stared at the dancing fire between them. The upper plate had been the source of her frustrations and, truthfully, still was. She said, "I don't know the whole story behind it, but at some point in Vector's history, a wall was built around the city to keep enemies out. Then the wealthiest of the wealthy capitalized on this and built another city right on top – the upper plate, Silius Sector – to separate themselves from the 'rubbish.' This created the dangerous lower levels – Midgard Sector and the slums – walling the people within everlasting darkness and artificial light with no chance of ever escaping."

"Far out…"

She was glad that other city-states hadn't tried emulating and even condemned this practice. Before traveling abroad, she had never thought twice about it. It was just the way of the world as she had known it. After visiting Figaro for the first time and seeing the happiness of its people and the freedom they all shared, the Vectorian way suddenly stopped making sense. "To be fair, Silius is just as dangerous as Midgard but in a different sort of way. The wealthy'll snob you to death, work you to death, and have no problems slitting their mum's throats, all for a quick gil, much like those Jidoorian dickheads. Another aspect of the Imperial Way."

"So that's why you wanted to avoid Jidoor…" Locke murmured.

"Sounds like a great place," Sabin said with a snort. "You sure you want to go through with this?"

She let loose a sigh. "We've come too far to turn back now," she said. "But I'd always hated the Imperial Way. I just didn't realize how much until my forced retirement. I…" She cast a quick glance to Terra, who had started snoring softly. "I make for a bad Imperial."

Locke flashed a wry grin. "Fate works in mysterious ways, Celes," he said. "You may be a bad Imperial, but that just means you're a great asset to the rest of the world."

Celes returned the smile. He certainly had a point. Fate brought her and Terra back together. Fate compelled her to seek out Edgar and the Returners. Now fate was bringing her back to effectively right the wrongs of her past and, for once, have a hand in a positive difference.

His Lordship Court Mage Kefka stormed his way through the bland, sterile hallways of the Devil's Lab. Normally, he despised stupid Emperor Gestahl's stupid orders, but this one was different. He was excited about this one! He just had to see the progress for himself! But still, appearances had to be upheld! The hired help couldn't fall lax in their trembling fear, oh heavens no!

He stopped at a glass window overlooking an unused darkened room and studied the reflection grinning wickedly back at him. "Well, aren't we a handsome devil?" he said. "I'd ask what kind of a person wears a grin like that, but I know a Returner defeating plan forming when I see one! Oh, those poor, sad fools won't know what hit them!" He punched the glass and shattered it with the aid of a magical gust of wind. He cackled in amusement until he had tears in his eyes. "Idiots!"

He continued his march, making sure to walk in such a way to make his cape dance behind him. The look of fear on their faces as he passed, yes, it filled him with a giddy, lip licking type of glee. The sweat forming on their nervous brows pleased him immensely. He was almost tempted to make one of them grovel at his feet and lick his boots just for good measure. Fear kept them in line and loyal. Plus, it was an excellent confidence boost…for him!

Kefka giggled uncontrollably, surprising everyone passing in the hallway; to them it would have appeared completely unprovoked. Perhaps he would mess with his soldiers afterward. Those louts were getting fat, stupid, and lazy and needed some fire therapy. But for now, he had a meeting to attend. And this was one he didn't want to miss!

He purposefully burst through the metallic double doors and announced his arrival with a high-pitched laugh. The scientists all jumped from their chairs in fear and surprise. One of them even wet themselves in the confusion. How disgusting! How lewd! Didn't these morons have any sense of decency?! Clucking his tongue in disappointment, he decided that he would save this young man the embarrassment of gaining the nickname of 'Pee-Pants' and used fire magic to dry him up. Oops! Pee-Pants caught fire and turned to ash! Better luck next time!

Kefka howled with laughter before lording over the nearest lab coat. "Where's Cid?" he growled. "And anyone who says the phrase 'not here' will find themselves getting a makeover!"

Every single man and woman pointed to the closed double doors on the other side of the room. Oh, Cid was hiding, was he? Well, lucky he enjoyed a good game of hide and seek, especially the seeking. Kefka once again burst with amusement as he pranced through the room and through the doors to the Esper Wing.

At the end of the hall beyond, he came to a room he recognized. The tank room. She had once been held here. Oooh…! How he hate hate hate hated her! And how he couldn't wait to snuff the ever-living life force from her. Oh, how he would enjoy it. Heavens yes! He would kill her slowly, with his bare hands no less, not only to prolong her pain and suffering but to stare gleefully into those blue eyes as the light behind them faded to nothingness.

He hungrily licked his lips with a giggle. He needed patience. His time for revenge would come soon. But not soon enough!

Once again, Kefka erupted through the doorway, making sure they slammed against the walls to startle the man who had been staring at a misty glass-filled tube. At any other time, he would have relished in scaring Cid half to death, but today… Today, he was distracted by the strong magical presence – no, force of nature that he had just faceplanted into. It felt as he had just walked into a room containing his rogue green-haired assistant and every esper they had in captivity.

"Oooh! Such magic power!" he crooned as he leaned on the catwalk's guardrails for a closer inspection. The misting on the glass was too much. He couldn't get a look at what was inside, but he liked what he felt. He really liked what he felt. "Cid, you knucklehead!" He was so excited that he pulled the bewildered man close and kissed him on the cheek. "You magnificent knucklehead! You really know how to please your Emperor!"

If Kefka had bothered to pay attention to Cid, which he hadn't, he would have noticed the older man cower in his yellow lab coat. "Thank you, Lord Kefka." His eyes darted around nervously as if looking for anywhere to be but there. He wrung his hands multiple times as if he were trying to squeeze the life from them. "Why… Why are you here, my lord?"

"A very good question, Professor," Kefka said with a giggle and a pat on Cid's head like he'd been a good dog who had just performed a trick. "You can say that I'm here for power. You can also say that I'm here for knowledge. Or maybe I'm simply here to see how it's going!" With a jumpy smirk, he returned his gaze to the tube and glared at the mist in hopes that it'd get scared and melt away. Sadly, this did not happen. "The truth of the matter is, my dear Cid, the Emperor sent me here for a progress report on our little…secret weapon."

Cid, taken aback, stammered, "Secret weapon?" Aw, all these science types were so cute when they were scared. "You mean Project One-Oh-Five-Three-Nine?"

"No, you dunderhead! I was referring to your horrible fashion sense!"

"My apologies, my lord. Everything… Everything is proceeding along as the Emperor requested."

"Good. Good! Will it be powerful?" Kefka didn't have to ask; he could feel it. It already was.

"Yes, my lord."

"Will it have magical abilities beyond anything we've ever seen?"

"Given enough time, they will rival yours, my lord."

Kefka giggled and clapped his hands. "The very thought of it sends a shiver down my spine!" He turned and planted the tip of his nose on Cid's with a glare. "And we're certain that you won't do any meddling with the experiment this time around?"

Cid began to sweat, so much so that Kefka could taste the glorious taste of the older man's fear. He could see it in his eyes, and it was a glorious sight. "No, Lord Kefka." And he could hear it in his voice and, by the gods, was it glorious! "You… You have my word."

"I should very well hope so, Professor," he said with a toothy snarl. "It'd be a shame if Jidoor were to…" He giggled uncontrollably at the thought. "…have something dreadful happen to it!" He took Cid's chubby old man cheeks in his hands and hilariously mashed them together. "We wouldn't want that, now would we?"

"No, sir," Cid mumbled through his mashed-up lips.

Kefka laughed at the sound, ultimately pleased with himself for creating the situation that had caused it. "How soon until we can let this marvelous creature loose upon the Returners?"

Again, Cid's gaze quickly darted around the room, looking for an escape. Finding none, he sighed and said, "A week, my lord."

A week?! Kefka grabbed Cid by the collar and screamed into his face. "I normally kill for such insolence! Be thankful the Emperor wishes you remain alive!"

"But I need time to create new mem--"

"You have twenty-four hours, Cid del Norte Marquez," Kefka growled. "You fail that, and my menagerie of jokers will eat good for days. Are we clear?"

Cid slowly nodded and swallowed what had probably been his stomach mid-fearful escape. "By your orders, my lord."

Kefka released him and turned on his heel, again walking in a such a way to intimidate. "Good," he said as he exited the room. "Don't make me regret my generosity."

The Emperor would be most pleased with this information. Soon, they'd have those pesky Returners right where they wanted them. The men? Kill 'em outright! Celes? That was a death he wanted to savor. Ooh! Maybe he could turn his sweet, sweet assistant and have her kill that blonde-haired bimbo herself! Such a bittersweet reunion he had planned! He couldn't stop the grin from spreading.

He could hardly wait! This week was going to be fun!

Terra startled awake with a hand clutched to her heart and the other seeking out the comforting warmth of Celes. Except where Celes should have been there was only an empty half of their bedroll. She took several deep breaths to enhance her calm and listened to the night's song, knowing full well that what had scared her had come from inside her own head, not outside it.

A nightmare; a dream unremembered of something horrible and one that had left her with a feeling of dread. She'd be lying if she had said that traveling to Vector didn't fill her with the same emotion. She'd also be lying if she had said that she wasn't afraid of what they'd discover there. The whole idea at first had seemed like this grand idyllic fairytale; freeing the espers, defeating the Empire, bringing everlasting peace, all with a hint of romance. But the closer they got to the city itself, the more panic slithered greasily up her spine, the more it clouded her mind, forcing her to hide it and keep it in a little box; a tiny secret only she knew.

Terra let loose the deep sigh that had collected in her lungs and continued listening. Crickets chirped. An owl hooted somewhere nearby. The waterfall continued pouring water into the spring. Other than the void of Celes' physical presence, nothing seemed out of place. That bright magical presence, on the other hand, could be felt nearby, shining like a beacon.

Rubbing the dried sleep from her eyes, she crawled out of the tent and took in her surrounds. Starlight filtered through the canopy of trees, offering very little in the way of light. Sabin and Locke were nowhere to be found; sleeping in their tents, she assumed. All that remained of their campfire were a few glowing embers smoldering within their own ash, their warmth not enough to keep the chill in the air at bay. The exposed parts of her legs and arms transformed from bare, smooth skin to gooseflesh. It prickled enough to cause a self-hug and a shiver.

Unlike her quickened heart, the night was still. There seemed to be absolutely nothing worth seeing or hearing, nobody around, but there was this eerie feeling of being watched that she couldn't shake. She could feel the malevolence behind it; its stench one of death and sorrow. It was enough for her to eye her surroundings with nervousness. Hopefully, it was just her imagination running away with itself and not something dire, like a hungry animal or a gang of thieves.

Whatever it was, it was eying her specifically. She could feel it basking in her presence, savoring every moment. She rubbed her upper arm to soothe her fears and lowered her head to make herself appear smaller. It had to be in her head. It just had to be. No one would find her sticks for limbs, scarred body, and lack of womanly assets attractive. She even questioned Celes' devotion to her at times because of this. Why couldn't she have exaggerated heavy curves like her? Why couldn't she be beautiful as well? Why was she, as exotic as a half-esper could be, so plain and uninteresting as an ironing board? What did Celes see in her that she didn't?

A faint splash from the spring caught her attention, the fear of being watched no longer apparent. What had that been? Celes? An animal? Some kind of boogen?

Part of Terra wanted to run and hide, but something forced her to stalk through the woods quickly and quietly. She darted from shadow to shadow, from behind tree to tree, stopping only when she reached the edge of the star illuminated spring. She scanned the area and found only rippling reflections cresting away from the waterfall along with the wavering grasses in the cool, cool breeze. A bird in the distance cackled in a human-like laugh, one that she had heard before, one that caused her to shiver in fear. It had almost sounded like--

And then it happened, startling her, causing her breath and her heart to catch in her throat. Like a mermaid from a fairytale, Celes broke the surface with a gasp for air, the move accenting her muscular curvature visible above the waterline. The moisture on her skin caught the shining starlight, illuminating her with a glistening glow that was as bright as the magic she commanded.

Terra could only stare in amazement. This wasn't the first time she had seen her partner sans clothing, but it certainly was the first time seeing her relaxed without the aid of alcohol and especially the first time seeing her beauty enhanced so much by their surroundings. She had once joked that Celes was queen of a kingdom in the sea, but right now, in this moment of treading water, she was breathtakingly looking the part.

Like a boat out on the ocean in a stormy night, Terra found herself lost in a sea of emotion. She wanted to take part in this momentous moment but hesitated on the action. She and Celes had already been intimate in a very similar scene. It had been the first memory of their relationship that had come back to her, but large pieces had been muddled and lost then, the full scene and its impact in the past broken and unrealized.

As she stood hugging the trunk of her hiding tree, it all came back to her in an overwhelming flood. Celes' urgency as she drunkenly pulled her out of her bed. The slipperiness of the dewy plains lands grass tickling her feet as they crossed the Vectorian countryside in the middle of the night. The confusing exhilaration of being kissed by her best friend on the shores of a dream with only the stars and the moon watching over them. Every second had been a cherished moment of intimacy and love, something she, the Terra of the past, had never gotten the chance to reciprocate.

The next day, she…

The next day, she had…

A feeling of overwhelming hopelessness drove Terra to fall to her knees and fail at fighting back tears. Her fire had burned more people than she could ever count. She had killed more people than she could ever know. She had been forced to participate in and watch every single graphically bloody murder – Imperials, Domans, Returners – every single act of mass destruction; her reward for her esper heritage.

"I want you to go into the next room and destroy everyone there…by any means."

"I don't want to kill anyone!" she screamed to the winds of time with the hope that it would change something, anything. It succeeded in nothing. She still raised her hand and burned that group of unaware cadets until even the steel of their armor had turned to slag; the psychological weight of the action prompted her to wail in horror and despair.

"You can kick and scream all you want, my sweet little magic user. But you… You belong to me."

That laugh, that high pitched, deranged laughter filled her head, smothering her and inducing panic and fear. She knew that laugh. She had heard it when he had stolen her identity, after every murder, with every conjuring of her fire, every time he stole her innocence and womanhood, every agonizing, painful beating she received, and after every instance a frustrated Celes had failed to rekindle their friendship. She could feel it watching her, undressing her and leaving her bare, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

It never came. Instead, she relived those painful lonesome days as a science experiment. She relived every needle, every cut, every day of spent magic and gnawing hunger, every hour spent sick because of exposure to chemicals, every beating she received when she refused cooperation.

"I'm sorry, Thirty-One. I wish I didn't have to hurt you, but I don't have a choice. They'll kill my daughter if I don't. And you… You remind me so much of her. If I could set you free, I would."

She couldn't respond even if she had wanted. She had screamed until her voice had given out.

"All I can do is give you a name since you won't talk, and I don't blame you for that. I'll call you Terra, after my deceased wife. She had a strong will…just like you. Stay strong. General Leo will know what to do."

The voice was unknown, a yellow blur in a haze of bright blinding light and pain. But she knew its origin. It had been the one time one of her scientist captors had hugged her and shown remorse, an uplifting wind in an otherwise downward spiral. That upwards momentum continued well after her freedom was granted and her placement in the Imperial Academy. She could finally see the sky, the sun, the stars. She could finally feel the heartbeat of nature. The smell of Vector hadn't been too pleasant, but it had been a change. People still scared her, until Celes.

Celes, her first and only friend, the only one in that bunch of cadets who didn't care about what she was or what she could do. All that mattered was who she was. She was no longer sad or lonely. She had someone who cared about her. Terra latched on to that and let it fill her with this strange unknown emotion to the point of bursting. Was this…love?

She never got to find out. She relived every atrocity she had committed by Kefka's order – every injury, every death. She relived every atrocity he committed against her – the verbal abuse, every beating, every whipping, every instance he forced himself upon her. Unable to speak out or influence her own actions, she clung to the memory of that single night with Celes. The warmth of their embrace, the shroud of safety that it instilled, she hid within it praying and hoping that she'd be saved and her freedom returned.

That hope was crushed when Celes angrily cut ties because of the silence that couldn't be broken. Terra screamed out her pains, her fears, and the anguish that tormented her. She screamed until her mind was metaphorically bloodied and raw, but Celes hadn't heard. She could only watch as her heroine walked away, abandoning her and sealing her to her fate.

All that remained was a broken shell of a young woman rewarded with bloody beatings, ordered self-harm, and forced hunger. A young woman paraded around like a show pet, tormented by Kefka's humiliating 'special' time with her. A young woman crying out along with the tortured screams and wailings of the angry souls whose lives she had stolen.

"Wherefore doth thou seek our demise? Pray betoken, what deed hast we done to earn thy ire?" It was the Doman samurai who had defended his king and his country to the very end, an end she had given without mercy but wished she could have.

"I don't want to kill anyone!" she screamed once more, interrupted only by her own sobbing. "I'm a healer! I'm a healer!"

"Then wherefore doth thou not heal? Whence is thy love and compassion? Wherefore doth thou instead rain upon us with fire and brimstone? Wherefore doth thou smother the ordinary with thy envy?"

"I don't hate anything! I just want to know love!" She let out a pained animalistic wail, proof a dissonance had formed between her inner and outer selves, a dissonance that had become larger with every passing moment. But there had been one tiny sliver that had kept it all from falling apart in a meltdown of fire and anguish – hope. Kefka may have crushed it, but it was still there – barely alive. It gave her something to hold on to, a shining beacon of light in an everlasting, never ending realm of darkness, a safe haven to hide from his hatred.

She latched on to this beacon as tightly as she could, enveloped herself within its warmth as much as she could, and embraced its comforting touch. She cried into it. She pleaded with it. She bargained with it. She changed her form for it. She fought scores of soldiers for it. She promised her ever-living devotion if only it would keep her safe and return her to the one person who had, after years of suffering pain and torture, given her happiness.

It returned her embrace and soothingly stroked her hair. It lovingly kissed her cheeks and her ears, bringing her peace but not silencing her tears. "I'm here, Terra," it said in Celes' voice, urgent yet reassuring.

The mish-mashed scenes of the past crumbled away, allowing Terra to return to the tearful present in a mirror of that night she had first awoken from her nightmare. Out of shock, she pulled away to reorient herself. They were outside Tzen. Near camp. They were on a mission to save the espers in Vector. A very wet and very naked Celes knelt in front of her, but something was wrong. It was something she never thought she'd ever see and it scared her. Celes was shaking and openly crying. Did she know? Did she know that Terra had once again experienced a lifetime of heartache and torture in a short span of time?

"You weren't there for me," Terra said between the tears and the anguished contorting of her voice. "I cried out to you. I begged you to save me. You walked away." It hadn't been an accusation nor a threat; she understood why it had happened. No blame was laid. Instead, it had been a mere statement, a declaration of something that just simply was.

Celes' face screwed up with emotion before pulling Terra back into a loving hug. "I'm here now," she said with a hitch. "And I'll never walk away from you again."

Another round of painful hot tears burst forth. "Why? I don't deserve your devotion." Not only did she not deserve it, she didn't understand it.

"And I don't deserve yours. But I never stopped thinking about you. I never stopped blaming myself for what happened nor will I ever. And I'll never stop wishing I could go back in time to stop it from happening."

"But I'm…broken," Terra said hoarsely. "I'm tainted. I'm not even human."

"I don't care." Celes separated them and cradled Terra's face in her trembling hands. "Who you are is most important to me."

"Why?"

"Because I…" Celes' concerned filled eyes flooded with tears, her voice wavered as she struggled to speak. "Because I…" Her teeth gritted together as she continued with her struggle. "Because I love you. …I always have."

It started as a tightness in Terra's chest and a pain in her eyes that ended with another burst of tears and a wail of anguishing happiness and relief. Celes loved her! Celes loved her! She shivered from the warm tears rolling down her neck and, opening herself up for a kiss, grabbed handfuls of golden hair in their tightened embrace. It was the strangest feeling, but one that she put her entire shattered being into. It wasn't the first time she had done so, but it felt as if it had been the first time in a very long time. The softness of those lips, the warmth of those strong arms around her, the security that such closeness gave her, this had been her hideaway, her safe-haven, for so long. It was a reality she no longer had to use as a shield.

It hurt to cry this much, but Terra couldn't help it. Now that she finally knew love, she never wanted to let it go.

^[1] Due to the result of a slave crown experiment gone wrong, jokers were classified as part of the bird family. Their release into the wild had been no accident. Kefka had been seen letting them loose and, with a cackle, telling them to "Fly, my pretties! Fly and wreak havoc!"^[return]

Chapter Text

Throughout the lands, King Edgar Figaro was known for two defining traits – first and foremost, his love of any female form and the womanizing tendencies that created. Secondly, it was that he kept his promises. Actually, that was probably more like three traits, but whatever; the point remains the same. Keeping one's promises is not a scandalous thing like womanizing and certainly not one whispered about by tabloids like bored busybodies. Actions spoke louder than Pruert Durmoch's fake news media empire and Edgar's care for what anyone said about him, regardless of why they said it, usually factored at zero anyway.

After promising to take Ramuh to the abandoned castle under the Nibelheim Sea, his advising his advisors that he wanted to go back was not met with universal praise. The older ones grumbled and grunted as old politicians typically did when stuck in their ways or in the face of opposition. "Why should we go back to that place?" they rabbled. "We've already seen what there is to see!" They wanted to remain above the surface and await orders from Banon, something that could take months. Edgar suspected that they were also afraid of the dark and the things that it hid from the light. They didn't think that they could learn something from an ancient civilization that could help with today's current troubles.

The younger ones, including Nadia Guardia, Duchess of South Figaro, disagreed and backed Edgar's decision. "But Mister Ramuh helped our forces in Narshe," the Duchess said in a cute and giggling rebuttal. "Shouldn't we, the only people with the means possible, at the very least take him to see his homeland?" She won the argument, of course, and not because she was right or even remotely excellent with words. It was purely because she let down her shimmering blonde hair, batted her long eyelashes over her sparkling blue eyes, and peppered her speeches with giggles and winks.

Edgar could only hide his face behind his palm. Yes, he was glad she sided with him; this meant he could actually accomplish something. But Nadia's cuteness was a dangerous power and one that needed protection, or at least culling. It was only a matter of time before the Empire discovered it and tried harnessing it for their own agenda. Forget MagiTek, MariSuTek would be the power that would destroy them all – if the Empire would call it that, of course.

Several dull and dreary days passed as the castle burrowed itself deep underground and tunneled toward that sweet spot of a pocket under the ocean. During this time of waiting, Ramuh became restless, wandering the shaking hallways aimlessly and muttering to himself in that ancient language that only espers understood. At one point, Edgar found him staring at a crack in the wall outside the library as if it were a hungry void between the dimensions.

"Are you alright, my friend?" Edgar said after the third attempt to gain his attention.

Ramuh harrumphed with a thunderous clearing of his throat. "Yes, of course," he said. "I'm just preparing myself. It will not be easy seeing what remains of my home after a thousand years of decay." He paused before adding somberly, "If there's even anything of value left."

"Take all the time you need to steel yourself. When you say the word, we shall depart." Edgar then left the elder esper to his own devices, though strange devices they were. Unease had been something he hadn't considered despite Ramuh's earlier eagerness in going. He put himself in those powerful sandals and wondered what Figaro would look like after a thousand years. Would it be above the surface and technologically advanced beyond his wildest dreams? Or would it be like the castle they were traveling to – empty, decaying, and buried under a world that had all but forgotten it?

He decided that he wanted to see this location for himself as well. The scholar in him wanted to preserve any of Asgard's ancient literature regardless of what it was, even if it was a simple cookbook. They had been rushed the last time, finding only a journal belonging to the forgotten half-esper queen and one that Terra had taken with her for guidance in a world foreign to her. Perhaps there were other pieces from the War of the Magi era that would be helpful to them in their fight against the Empire. They wouldn't know until they looked.

Once the castle had arrived at their destination, he encountered Nadia when summoned to meet Ramuh in the basement. "Have you chosen an away team, yet?" she asked, excitedly jumping and clapping her hands. "Can I come? Canicanicanicani?" Her big blue eyes shone with excitement and anticipation while her ponytail swung steadily like a clock's pendulum.

Nadia, or Marle as she was affectionately known to the family and her close friends, was ten years his junior but portrayed the mentality of someone who couldn't make up her mind as to whether she wanted to act her age, which was seventeen, or someone younger. Because of this immaturity, most Figarians didn't even realize that she had trained in the ways of the crossbow and, if focused for more than a few minutes, could be as deadly with a manual loader as Edgar was with his automatic.

Edgar laughed and flashed her a smile as he took her hand in his. He kissed her knuckles before saying, "My dear, if you wish to join myself and our esteemed Esperian guest in exploring an undersea palace, who am I to say no? Besides, we shall need light down below, and your beauty will banish the darkness quite nicely." He often lamented their blood relation, cousins on his mother's side. She was the queen that Figaro needed – beautiful, bubbly, and unexpectedly deadly.

"Great!" she exclaimed with an excited leap in the air. "I'll grab Crono and meet you in the engine room!"

Before Edgar could say yay or nay, she disappeared down the hallway with squealing giggling. He sighed with a shake of his head. It was typical of Marle to ignore his words of sugar, though one could never be sure if it were by design, personality flaw, or both. But her insistence on bringing her peasant consort, Crono Torigah, was welcomed as it was possible there were monsters down below. While it was true that this young man looked to be the epitome of a lazy ginger-haired bum, he was, truthfully, an up-and-coming sword fighter and knight-in-training. If he wasn't betrothed to Marle, he could easily one day take a position in the King's Guard.

It wasn't long before the four of them were in the cavernous corridors of the underworld and making their way forward by flameless lamplight. Edgar led the way, followed by Marle, with Ramuh and Crono bringing up the rear. Surprisingly, despite one being a young man of very few words and the other a magic elder of a man, Crono and Ramuh had become friendly rather quickly. Edgar wondered if perhaps the boy had enquired about lightning magic as the old man had delved into its fundamentals for the better part of an hour. But he couldn't be sure; he hadn't heard Crono utter a word. At least, he didn't recall hearing anything.

Edgar leaned close to Marle and muttered, "How did he do that? I have known Ramuh for the better part of a fortnight and have yet to get him to talk at length about magic."

She shrugged with a giggle. "Crono just has that effect on people," she said with a dreamy sigh. "Like, all he has to do is smile, and I become putty in his hands. Omigod, his super strong hands."

"Interesting. I smile at a young lady and get nothing but ice. And I don't mean just from General Chere."

"That's because you talk too much, Eddy. Sometimes less is better."

"Hmph. Says the kettle."

"Silly, Eddy! I'm a girl, not a kettle!"

"No. I mean there is not much room for you to accuse me of an over-abundance of speaking. You spend twenty-three out of twenty-four hours of a day hurling verbal nonsense like a Whosyer drunkard from atop your box on the street corner."

"I'm not on a box…" Marle said with a pout. "Although, Crono claims he stopped talking because I do enough for the two of us."

"I can see why he would say that." Putting aside the oh-so-helpful insults, Edgar returned his attention to the darkness ahead of him. "Speaking of silence, have you perchance heard from my insider within the Durmoch mansion?"

"You mean that Rachel What's-Her-Name? Pretty, dark-haired Kohlingen girl?" Marle snorted with derisive amusement. "The last I heard anything was when you tried that silly scheme to convert General Chere to the Returners."

"Damn." Well, this was problematic.

"Why do you ask?"

"I have not heard from her in a very long while, not since I rescued Locke and the good General from South Figaro to be precise."

"You think she was found out?"

"I've a feeling that there is a mole within the ranks of the Returners. I very much hope that she was discovered over the alternative, but ultimately pray that neither is the case." And with every dead-end he was coming to, her disappearance looked more and more suspicious. The worse part was that he had put her in that position. Had she been found out and captured? Had she been killed? Was she an Imperial double agent and called back to Vector? There were so many questions and very little in the way of answers.

With no further helpful information, they soon fell into silence. This allowed Edgar a chance to focus on their dark surroundings. He would be the first to admit that these caverns were creepy. Not only was it dark, but the sound of running water reverberated throughout creating a static white noise that prevented them from hearing the tiniest of sounds. The corridors every now and again slimmed down to the point that they had to walk sideways. Poor Ramuh, being the tallest of them all, had to hunch down to fit, which could not have been comfortable. And at every bend Edgar halted the group to peer around the corner, every time coming face to face with more cold, dark corridor of stone. No sense in rushing towards possible danger as the saying went.

"Are we there yet?" Marle said quietly from behind him for the tenth time.

"Baldur's Gate, no. And stop asking," Edgar said sternly. But she did have a point. How far had Sabin and the rest traveled before running into the ancient castle? Surely, they should have arrived at the brightly lit open cavern by now. Perhaps Ramuh could answer this mystery? "Do you sense anything nearby, Ramuh?"

A quiet rumble echoed throughout the caverns. "I sense something," Ramuh said, "but I cannot determine what it is, if it is sentient, or its location. My apologies."

Dead end. They'd have to keep trekking, then. With renewed determination, Edgar plowed forward into the darkness, eventually reaching another darkened bend. But this one was different; it led into a large open hollow – a hollow so large that the weakening flameless light illuminated nothing. Was this it? Was this their final destination?

"We have come to what appears to be an open cavern," Edgar said. "However, visibility is poor. I cannot see much further than my own nose."

"I bet if there were a few scantily dressed dancing girls you'd see them clearly," Marle said with a giggle. Crono chuckled. Ramuh just silently stroked his beard.

Edgar snorted. "Yes, well, keep that up, and I shall neglect to bring you on further adventures, cousin."

Marle stuck her bottom lip out and slumped her shoulders. "Aw… You're no fun."

Crono's face suddenly brightened as he held up a finger to symbolize the birth of an idea. He rummaged through his travel bag before producing an old-fashioned wood and cloth torch. As a grin took over his face, he held it aloft as if it was the greatest prize he had ever found. One could almost hear a recording of a victory fanfare emphasizing just how great of a prize it was.

Edgar raised an eyebrow. "I fail to understand how that will help, Crono. We have this." He lifted his flameless light to bring it to the center of attention, but, as if on cue by a nefarious god's design, it fizzled into darkness, its power supply dead as a doornail. He stared at the dark space that used to be his hand in a moment of disbelief. "Well," he said with an audible frown, "I concede to your judgment then. Carry on."

In the darkness, Ramuh rumbled in agreement to whatever Crono had silently proposed. The corridor flashed briefly and suddenly, like a split-second rave party, illuminating everything around them bright as day. The torch in Crono's hand sparked to life, casting a flickering light all around them. All the while grinning like a simpleton, he pulled a second torch from his pouch, lit it from the first, and handed it to Edgar as he sidled past.

Edgar, nursing a wounded pride, was more than happy to let the boy take the lead. Rarely did his technology fail in the field, even if it was just perhaps a simple case of user error. In the excitement of coming down here, he must have forgotten to check the battery's charge, something he'd have to be more vigilant about in the future. He stowed his lamp in his pack before following.

"Don't feel bad, Eddy," Marle said with playfulness. "My inventions don't work all the time, either."

"Your idea of an invention is mixing multiple flavors of ice cream," Edgar said with a snort. "And before you or Crono tell me to not knock it until trying it, it is hardly relevant to the task at hand."

"I call it 'Harlequin Ice Cream' because it's just so festive!"

"Interesting," Edgar said softly. "Though still not relevant." From ahead, he could hear the soft snickering of Crono snuffing out his laughter.

They entered the cavern and walked for what felt like miles. Its size was so great that even two lit torches did nothing to beat the darkness back. Locke, Sabin, and Celes had all mentioned there being lit pyres in the large cavern during their visit, but so far, they had encountered nothing. No light, no monsters, no sentience, not even a castle. If it hadn't been for the fact that they were traveling single file, they would have lost the direction they had come from.

Crono stopped them and looked back, the confusion prevalent in his eyes with a slight hint of fear. Marle huddled close to him and whispered, "What is it, Crono? Mystics?" With a shake of his head, he put an arm around her shoulders to draw comfort. She shivered in response and said, "You're right. This place is creepy."

It was questionable as to who was comforting who, but Edgar couldn't blame either of them for being scared; the hair was standing up on the back of his neck. The atmosphere had changed quickly from nothing at all to danger lurking everywhere in the darkness. He also swore that they were being watched, though it was hard to tell in the dim, flickering torch light. Anything could be hiding anywhere, even in plain sight!

Behind, Ramuh wore a thoughtful, beard tugging expression, a stark contrast in comparison to the rest of them. "Creepy indeed," he said. "Perhaps I can change that." He tapped his wooden staff on the stone ground several times before uttering, "Es werde Licht."

A ball of electricity, the size of a chihuahua's head, shot from the gem on the staff's tip up to the very ceiling of the cavern. From there, with a deafening thunderclap, multiple arcs of lightning struck the ground, bringing several previously unseen pyres to life with fire and light. The darkness receded, allowing the encroaching light to illuminate the cave and reveal the crumbling castle before them.

Crono whistled in awe. Edgar mirrored the sentiment. Marle just stared in shock. The castle before them was so much like Figaro Castle in design that he had to remind himself that they hadn't stepped through a wormhole to the future nor one to an alternate universe. There were a few minor differences though; Figaro Castle contained more metal works and machinery on its exterior. This castle appeared to be one hundred percent stone. If any wooden structures had existed, time had long since erased their presences.

"I am home. Das Unfehlbar Schloss," Ramuh said with a slight warble, "the Infallible Castle, it had once been called. I see now that had been a bit of a misnomer."

Edgar patted him on the back. "When corruption and sickness find a way inside even the strongest can fall. The same happened at Doma."

"Like a coward, I turned tail with the rest of the espers and fled. I left my king and queen here to fend for themselves." Ramuh leaned heavily on his staff. "I learned of King Odin's fate when Tina arrived with his spirit in Zozo."

"Tina?" This piqued Marle's interest. "Who's that?"

"Ah, yes. My apologies. I mean, Terra."

Marle exchanged a confused look with an equally confused Crono. "I still don't know who that is," she said.

Edgar shook his head and waved a hand at her with subtlety. He would explain details to her later.

Ramuh continued, "While I am saddened by his death, it's better such power be in her hands than Nidavell's or your Empire's. And while I have heard nothing concrete about the fate of my queen, there is no better place for an old fool to pray and ask forgiveness."

"You are hardly an old fool, my friend," Edgar said with a raised eyebrow of disbelief. "If not for you, I do not think the gods would have allowed me to leave Narshe a free man on that day we first met."

"Perhaps." Ramuh paused to stare intently into the darkness of the castle's rotted and collapsed gate. "Perhaps not. Although, I do worry about the lives I sent into a hornet's nest. I can only pray that Tina can protect them and save the rest." Without waiting for anyone to follow, he sauntered through and disappeared into the darkness, all the while muttering to himself. "Gott im Himmel, rette sie alle."

Edgar made a move to stop him but hesitated. Had he just witnessed what he thought he had? Since first meeting the old man, Ramuh had come across as a rather stable and grounded, if not optimistic, individual. But this reaction, there was something much deeper troubling him than initially suspected. Unable to properly react, he defaulted to saying, "Interesting."

Marle stared into the inky blackness of the front gate before saying, "Should we go after him?"

A quick look to Crono caught his enthusiastic nod of agreement. Encouraged, Edgar returned the nod. "We should," he said. "We cannot learn much about the past while standing out here in the present, can we?"

They steadily and slowly entered the darkness, Edgar in the lead with Crono and Marle watching his back. Inside the Asgardian castle, the light was dim and the atmosphere eerily quiet. Shadows danced on the walls due to the flickering light from the pyres outside, giving the impression that they were being stalked by an army of shadow people. It felt that at any moment, the attack would be sprung and they'd be fighting something they couldn't see. Knock on wood, such a thing had not happened as of yet nor had they been dragged away to the netherworld, but the feeling of dread could not be shaken. It was as ever present as the darkness.

They searched the castle the best they could with little light and underpants full of the stench of fear. An initially ignored stairwell in the throne room called out to them, beckoning them to descend into the belly of the castle and away from the safety that firelight provided. Against better judgment, they embraced the darkness one step at a time. Below, they came upon a library that Edgar noted for future return. This must have been where Terra had found the magical journal. What other secrets and knowledge could be found here? Was there anything helpful in bringing down the Empire's MagiTek?

Marle jumped into Crono's arms when a woman's heartbroken wail came from even further into the darkness and another flight of stairs hidden there. "What the hell was that?!" she screeched and, somehow, whispered. Crono nonchalantly shrugged, but it was clear that he was just as frightened, or at least as surprised, as her.

Edgar pointed his torch towards the veil of blackness hovering over another stairwell ahead of them. "Not to point out the obvious, but it had sounded like a woman's cry of despair."

They continued their trek downward to find a small room that looked more like a prison than a study. In the center, knelt Ramuh beside a weeping blonde-haired woman in green. At first glance, Edgar had thought her to be Celes but quickly realized that chocobos would sooner fly. Celes was en route to Vector nor would she ever wear a dress. Was this the last Queen of Asgard? If so, how had she gotten here? If not, who was she and from where had she come? Where was the realistic statue that Locke had mentioned?

Edgar shared a look of confusion with Marle and Crono. If he was treading confusion, they were drowning in it. "Is she okay?" Marle said meekly. Crono shook his head and shrugged in response.

"Ramuh," Edgar said, "what has happened?"

Ramuh looked up as if just then noticing their presences in the room. "I didn't think it possible," he said, "but she is still alive."

Edgar had a very good inkling who the 'she' was, but he needed a confirmation. There was no possible way for someone to have lived for over a thousand years without some kind of magical or multi-dimensional time-traveling aid. "Who, Ramuh?" he said. "Who is the woman weeping at your feet?"

Before Ramuh had a chance to answer, several deathly screechings and wails filtered into the castle from, assumedly, the outside. Marle fearfully buried herself into a bewildered Crono. Edgar readied his blade for battle as he readied himself for an answer. Unfortunately, what he heard next had not been what he had wanted to hear.

"Now that I've broken the spell, I've awoken the enemy that has lain dormant for a thousand years. If we have any desire to survive, we must flee now!"

Not many chocobos had been counted the past few nights. With the crying and the screaming that had overcome the darkness, it had been difficult for even the heaviest of sleepers to remain at rest. They were all sluggish, Celes especially. She felt like she had spent the entire week consoling Terra, as a caring partner would, when only a few days had passed. Based on what little information she had gleaned, she learned that some memories had returned, especially some involving her, but what horrors they represented she could only guess.

Terra had fallen into silence, so traumatized by the mental experience that she refused—or perhaps was unable—to speak further on any matter; her frown and eyes ever frozen within an ashen melancholy. Communication still occurred but had become corrupted into an unorthodox method of spelling simple words out in the palm of a hand. In a brief surge of panic, Celes had initially thought that her confession of love had been the cause for this new shocking behavior, but Terra remained more her shadow than her actual shadow.

As they traveled, Terra's ability to keep up with the group faltered; battle with monsters had turned out even worse. Every attack sloppy. Every parry even sloppier. Every burst of fire barely strong enough to burn fuel soaked newspaper and small enough to strike fear in the hearts of no one. At one point, she had ended up injured, a bloody trinity of gouges across her shoulders. Unable to heal herself, the red-hot frustration in her eyes and her body language permeated the air around them like a thick tar, fizzling her magic out before it even materialized.

It was a stroke of luck that Locke had bandage wrap tucked away in his bag, and strangely little else related to the curative arts. It was obvious from the lack of other items that he had been well aware of, and perhaps relied too much on, Terra's usual healing abilities, leading one to wonder why he even carried it in the first place. A 'just-in-case' scenario such as this? Old habit? At the end of the day, it didn't matter. It had been there when needed. But it did lead to another, more damning question: With Terra's now inability to do even the most basic of tasks and function as part of a team, would they be able to safely proceed any further?

By mid-afternoon of the third day, Celes called for camp to unanimous cries of agreement. An area was chosen just off the beaten path, inside a convenient cave entrance that jutted ominously out of the ground. The air from deep inside was cool, albeit a bit musty, and the sound of trickling water spoke of an underground stream further in. Both were welcome reliefs from the hot and sticky Downunder sun.

Sleep threatened to overcome Celes as she unpacked her sleeping bag and amenities. She fought with Mister Sandman valiantly until she became vaguely aware of a hand on her shoulder and a gaze on the back of her head. While Terra still remained silent, her intent was all too clear; "Sleep," the look said. With a weak nod, Celes had barely collapsed on top of her unopened bedroll before a warm, lithe body cuddled up next to her.

The next thing she knew, she was again naked in the hellish funhouse rendition of what she assumed was the MagiTek Research Facility. Why always this place? What had happened during her magic infusion to make her dream of the place consistently? Why was she always nude? It was confusing, especially since she was aware of being locked in a dream. It was almost as if her subconscious took great pleasure in embarrassing her. At least her back didn't hurt from the lack of support here. That was a plus, albeit the only one.

Celes aimlessly wandered the twisted hallways, flinching at every bloodcurdling scream and animalistic wail that came from every room she passed. She didn't have to peer through any window to know that she'd find monster children, horrendous amalgamations of both human and beast. She had seen them nearly every time she dreamt of this place. She was unaware of any experiments of this caliber taking place in the real facility, but since she had never before seen the inside, it was hard to argue that this was all the result of her own depraved mind or otherwise.

Eventually, she happened upon the door that Exposition had previously prevented her from entering the last time she had dreamt herself here. She looked around, waiting for something to halt her progress forward, but nothing came. "I'm going to open the door, hey," she said, her voice raspy from disuse and nervousness. "You better stop me!" Again, nothing happened.

She took a deep breath before shoving the metallic double doors open. Before her was a room filled with a large tube-like tank that stretched from floor to ceiling. Inside that, a bubbling blue liquid held a thin platinum blonde-haired girl, who couldn't have been any more than five or six, suspended at its midpoint. Like Exposition, she had black-tipped cat-ears and a cat's tail. Unlike Exposition, various wires and tubes disappeared into her skin, adding to the look of a futuristic medical experiment gone wrong.

Surprisingly, the first thought to flash through Celes' mind was not anything questioning the validity or morality of what she was seeing, who could have been behind it, or even the identity of the young mutant girl. Instead, it was an acknowledgment that she was seeing things from the wrong perspective. She had previously seen this room from the inside out. Why she felt that she had no clue, but it was disorienting.

One-oh-five-three-eight so far, echoed a disembodied voice in the metallic room, is the only one to show signs of mental stability.

One-oh-five-three-eight? Did that voice mean the girl? It didn't sound like a name. It sounded more like a scientific designation.

But even that stability wavers from time to time. Dr. Cossack, I believe we need to run some more tests on her.

Professor Cid, the most well-known Imperial alcoholic aside from herself, and for once he hadn't sounded sloshed. Had she overheard this conversation while receiving her infusion? But why did she hear it in her dreams?

"Do y'all know my daddy?" Another voice, this one belonging to a child. From behind. It almost had sounded like--

Celes turned and found the sickly looking little girl wobbling on her feet in the doorway. Wires dangled from her arms and legs while that strange blue liquid formed a shimmering puddle on the cold metallic floor. Surprised, Celes cast a quick look back at the tube only to find it empty. How had this girl escaped so bloody quickly?!

"I don't know," Celes said with a slight shiver of fear. "Who is he and what does he do?"

The girl growled like a wild animal before leaping from the doorway and tackling a bewildered Celes to the hard floor. "Y'all're supposed to know!" Her face, now unobscured by matted platinum hair, was that of a demon – empty black eyes, grinning rows of pointed teeth, gooey and dripping saliva. "But since y'all don't, I'll learn ya something y'all should!" While the rest of her body was frozen in fear, Celes' heart pounded harder to free itself. The girl leaned closer, the stench of death on her breath overpowering. "Y'all're a monst--"

The girl's head suddenly jerked back, forcing out a squeak and curdling her expression into one of surprise. Celes stared in horror as a bloody stalactite of ice followed an explosion of gore from her mouth. No longer a threat, the little demon-girl fell limply to the side revealing a haggard and just as equally horrified Exposition. Her hand remained outstretched from the casting of her ice magic. Her chest heaved as she fought to catch her breath. Tears collected in the corners of her eyes with the overflow rolling down her cheeks.

"I can't…" she said breathlessly. "I can't keep doing this. I can't keep killing my…"

Celes stood and brushed herself. "Then stop," she said with crossed arms. "I'm a big sheila, hey. I don't need your protection. I can bloody well take care of myself."

"You…!" Exposition grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "If you could," she spat, "I wouldn't be here keeping your god damn demons at bay!"

Celes swatted her away. "Oh, get over it, Princess! We all sometimes have to do things we don't want! It's called fucking life, hey! And the only demons in my past are Maranda and my failure to protect Terra!"

A cat-like growl was the only warning she got before Exposition tackled her to the ground. She didn't get time to cry out from the pain that flared up in her tailbone as she had to fend off a multitude of punches aimed at her face. "Those are your fucking regrets! Not your god damned demons!" She had been about to gain the upper-hand in the scuffle when the onslaught suddenly stopped. The emotion in Exposition's eyes melted from fury to exasperation. She collapsed and openly wept, all the while pounding a fist onto Celes' chest. "I didn't ask to be created," she wailed. "I didn't ask to carry your bloody baggage by myself! But I fucking do because I fucking care! So, either a little help or some appreciation would be nice!"

At a loss of what to do, Celes did the first thing that felt natural; she enveloped her alternate ego in a hug. "I'm sorry," she said softly, "but I'm still not sure what's going on." She gestured to the limp form nearby. "Is that what you protect me from?"

Exposition hiccupped before burying herself deeper into the cranny between Celes' neck and shoulder, an act reminiscent of Terra. "It's complicated."

"Then help me understand."

"I…can't."

"Then who can?"

The scenery changed with the subtly of a MagiTek Armor crashing through a fine china shop. They were now standing in the Downunder wilderness, in a snowy valley overlooking Vector. Exposition was now wearing Terra's usual clothing but in a color scheme of greens, blues, and whites. As she looked in the direction of the city, the light wind whipped her curled blonde hair, the ribbons holding it in a ponytail, and the falling snow about. "Just forget the whole thing, Celes," Exposition said. "Take Terra and run away from this place. Live your lives out in peace."

Celes stepped to the edge next to her alter ego and tried not to frown at the sight of herself openly shedding tears. It was a bizarre sight and one she never wanted to see again. It was also weird seeing herself dressed like her partner. "I promised her I'd help her save the espers," she said, "and her father."

Exposition brushed away a lock of hair that had blown into her eyes and sniffled back her tears with a weak smile. "I can't fault you for caving in to that adorable face," she said. "Gods know I would have."

Celes nodded with a subtle noise of agreement. "So, can you at least tell me why I spent my whole life without ever knowing about you until recently?"

"I don't know. Maybe all that magic absorbed from Valigarmanda broke down the emotional walls that separated us," Exposition said. "I'm glad that it happened, though. I can see places like this outside the research facility. And…" Exposition enveloped her in a warm hug complete with a cat's tail around her waist. Their faces were so close together that if either of them moved their lips would touch. For a brief moment, Celes even entertained the thought. "And most importantly, I'm no longer alone anymore." She didn't have long to entertain before that thought had become a reality.

For the record, it was weird – a bit like kissing Terra, but still weird. The tenderness, the warmth, the softness, it was all there. Even the adorable little chipmunk noises that Terra sometimes made. But still, this was herself and not Terra. Something like this shouldn't happen at all.

Celes broke off the embrace and studied the shy, teary blue eyes that were studying her. It was like looking into a funhouse mirror that transformed everyone into Terra, only it wasn't. "Do you feel better now?" she asked.

Exposition nodded and reaped the benefits of another hug. "Thank you," she whispered. "I'm sorry for losing my cool. I'm so exhausted with worry about her. I can't keep up."

The 'her' in question could only be one 'her' – Terra. Celes knew the feeling. She was exhausted from constantly watching over her and holding her as she wept. Not knowing the reasons why only added to the frustrations. And instead of consoling her, here she was consoling herself. That tingle of guilt weaseled its way to the forefront and was so overwhelming that she could see the look of shame on Exposition's face.

"I know," Exposition said. "As much as I want to keep you here in your dreams, I can't. Go. Be her anchor."

Celes looked around, now noticing that they were in a white void. "How?" she said. "How do I get to where she's at?"

"It's simple. All you have to do is wake up."

Wake up? One blink and a confused thought later, Celes was laying on her bedroll, her body heavy and unresponsive, Exposition nowhere to be found. The world around her was dark and blurry as if she were viewing it through a muddy window pane. Terra's presence was felt close beside, while Sabin and Locke occupied seats opposite a softly crackling campfire. But the odd thing was that there was a fifth person in the group, seated between both men. A dark-haired woman clad in the uniform of a domestic housekeeper and one whom Celes immediately recognized.

The name was lost, but the identity most certainly belonged to one of Pruert Durmoch's maids. She was the very same maid who turned out to be a Returner informant. The very same maid she had drunkenly (and regretfully) coerced into sleeping with her. Seeing her here in the Land of Downunder was as shocking as it was surprising. If Celes hadn't felt so heavy and groggy, she would have made a noise of disbelief. What the hell was she doing here?!

"I won't pretend to know the full extent of what you're going through, but I do understand," the maid said, prompting Locke to nod his head in agreement. "I've been there—amnesia, I mean. I've woken up to only vague slivers of hints to who I had been, who my friends and loved ones were, and where I was. The confusion of who you really are when the memories do finally return only adds to the pile. Coming out of something like that is not easy to deal with. It's been years, and I still struggle with the aftermath."

"Sounds rough," Sabin said as he poked a fiery log with a stick.

"Not an experience I recommend, but…" She made a noise of thought before flashing a timid grin in Terra's direction. "At least you're not alone, you know? I'll help you any way that I can, Terra. You saved my life. It's the least I can do."

The world faded out of existence and dreams happened no more.

When Celes awoke and sat up with a yawn, she had to wonder if she had dreamed that campfire conversation. Several hours had passed since they had stopped for camp, leaving the sky star-struck with the sun's absence. Time had also transformed the nearby campfire into a smoldering ruin. Locke and Sabin were curled up in their sleeping bags while Terra's presence could be felt from outside the cave. If that maid had actually been here, she was long gone. But funny enough, her presence could still be felt, though just barely.

While Celes regretted that decision she had made all those months passed, it was something that she hadn't completely discussed with Terra and hoped she could keep that way. What was done was done. Still, it was a strange thing to dream about: someone she had slept with in the past consoling her partner of the present. She was no dream expert, but perhaps it stemmed from her inability to give comfort to Terra when it was needed. Maybe Exposition was trying to tell her something. Maybe it had been just a dream, and she was looking for meaning where there was none. More than likely that one.

After stretching her stiff joints, she quietly ventured outside the cave and into the starlit night. She stole a quick moment to regard the large inky black void on the southern horizon. Vector—home to slavers, enablers, users, abusers, and self-centered assholes on power trips. Anger bubbled up, forcing her to fight back the frustrated desire to punch the rocky wall. With a scoff and a shake of her head, she continued on her way. A broken hand was not something she could afford at present. Neither was a broken Terra. But still, one way or another she was going to make the responsible pay for their actions.

She found her partner sitting lonely at the top of the hill that covered their camp. She closed the gap and made her presence known with a comforting stroke of the hair. "What ya doin'?" she asked in a sing-song like manner, more Exposition than herself.

Tearful, puffy eyes turned upward at her, empty of all emotion until a tiny smile managed to crack through. Terra made no vocal attempt at communication. Those eyes, though, told her everything she wanted to know. They spoke volumes on exhaustion, frustration, and both physical and metaphysical pain.

Celes sat down beside Terra on the hill's crest and welcomed the tightly gripped hug with a tight smile. "Can't sleep, huh?"

Terra nodded but remained silent. She maintained the embrace before detaching to hide between her shoulders and behind her knees.

Celes mirrored the pose and waited for an answer, despite it becoming clear that none would come. She said softly, "You wanna talk about it, sweetheart?"

Terra shook her head and offered no further information.

Celes sighed before placing a hand on an exposed thigh with a gentle caress. "I can't listen if you don't…" She trailed off when Terra took her hand in both of hers and turned it palm-side up. She looked into tired, worn eyes before she felt a now familiar tickling sensation. It took a moment of confusion to realize that Terra was spelling something out, the letter 'S' to be precise.

-T-A-R-S-A-R-E-P-R-E-T-T-Y

Stars are pretty? Celes looked to their hands before meeting Terra's eyes once more. "You think so?" she said with a laugh. "I'd say the stars are jealous of you because you light up the night so much better, hey." Terra's weak smile grew larger but still looked as if it had been shattered and glued back together rather haphazardly. Once more, that tickling sensation filled her palm.

N-O-T-P-R-E-T-T-Y

Celes leaned closer and, with a sly grin, said, "You know, you're right. You're not pretty. You're hot, so hot that you've melted my icy heart." It was so cheesy, what she said, but if there was one thing that ever produced a smile it was that. Terra paused in disbelief before she fell to her back all the while cackling with laughter. Celes joined her on the ground and, as she played with loose strands of verdant hair, it became clear what had been missing in Terra's eyes the last few days. That missing light was now shining brightly: adoration.

Terra wiped away her tears of laughter before taking Celes' hand in her own once again. The beautiful smile soon faded away to allow that cracked frown to show once more. Slow tickling in her palm soon followed.

I-R-E-M-E-M-B-E-R

"What do you remember?"

Terra's features contorted from her agony before her tears spilled once again and her disused voice choked from a stifled wail. She violently shook her head and diligently continued spelling.

E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G

She rolled away to flood her trembling palms with tears, leaving Celes to stare blankly at the back of her head. Everything… Terra remembered everything. But what did that entail? Did that include everything she had been forced to do while under Kefka's influence? "What about everything has you upset?" Silence passed patiently waiting for Terra to compose herself. She inhaled a deep, hitched breath, took Celes' hand once again in her own, and continued this unorthodox method of communication.

Celes focused on the movements in her palm and nearly faltered from the story painstakingly spelled out to her using only singular words. Experiment. Controlled. Murder. Used. Abused. Fear. She had assumed that these things had happened and hoped against hope that Terra would have been spared knowledge of it. But now knowing that she had been aware of every single second brought about rage, a white-hot rage that nearly had Celes spewing fire magic.

Ignoring the continued spellings in her hand, she stared up at the stars in the sky. They weren't the culprits, but they weren't going to help her either. That was alright. She was going to enjoy ripping a certain clown from limb to limb, and they could watch. Or maybe she'd rip out what little of a heart he had to show him how black it was before she choked him with it. For Terra, for Doma, for the espers, for anyone else he had thrown to the chopping block, she was going to ensure that his death would be painful.

Chapter Text

The way to freedom was blocked. On the left, a horde of rotten, decaying zombies. To the right, a horde of rotten, decaying zombies. In front, a horde of rotten, decaying zombies. In short, the rotten, decaying zombies outnumbered and out-stenched the living at least fifty to one. Those were never great odds when the enemy ate brains and living flesh for sustenance, and you had exactly what they wanted.

Figuratively, Edgar's sword wasn't going to cut it here and his Autocrossbow would be a hindrance to his comrades in such cramped, close quarters. What he really needed was his latest invention, a fossil fuel powered saw designed to fell tall, tough anythings at maximum fastness. Thankfully, he always came prepared for a field test, and zombies would make the perfect test subjects. "Suggestions, anyone?" he said over his shoulder as he pulled said weapon from his pack.

Crono pulled his saber free with a chuckle and fell into a fencing stance, sword pointing forward and gripped by two hands at shoulder height. A grin of determined child-like delight burst from his face. Marle drew a bolt from the quiver at the small of her back and cocked her crossbow in one swift motion. She said with a scoff, "Other than fighting our way out, I don't have any."

Could they magic themselves out of this predicament? Edgar had experienced such a thing when Ramuh had whisked him from Narshe to Figaro in the blink of an eye. He threw an eyebrow in said esper's direction to watch his silent question get caught and lobbed back with the shaking of a head. "I know what you're thinking; and no, I cannot warp us elsewhere while surrounded by earth," Ramuh said. The unconscious Celes doppelgänger in his arms stirred before coughing up bloody pebbles. "She is also in no condition to help us."

Right. There wasn't much choice in the matter. It was fight or be eaten; both unpleasant scenarios no one wanted to take part in; the second definitely the worse of the two. Attention snapped back to the mob of beasties before them. One of the zombies separated himself from his decaying brethren. The rusted military decorations on his tattered uniform labeled him as high-ranking, while the wormy parasites randomly popping out of his face every so often like a game of Whack-a-Moogle served to remind of his passing. He coughed dryly into a bony fist before regarding the group. "Cheerio and all that," he said with a dry, raspy voice.

Edgar lowered his weapon as surprise forced a wide-eyed stare towards their decaying adversary. Since when did zombies speak anything other than grunts, groans, and guttural noises? "Who might you be?" he asked with an eyebrow raised with curiosity. "Actually, the more pertinent question is 'what might you be?'"

The lead zombie adopted a rigid stance, one full of discipline and one showcasing a long military background. "I'm dreadfully sorry for overwhelming you in such a way." He removed his cap, which took with what was left of his scraggly hair, and bowed low. "We are His Excellency's Elite SOLDIERs, trained by SeeD, and planted out in the world to secure Mako for the continued good of our People."

Elite SOLDIERs? That was easy enough to figure out. But SeeD? What the hell was that? A person? A place? An organization? Even more puzzling: what was Mako?

The zombie continued, "And, again, dreadfully sorry, but I'm afraid that you are in possession of someone we require. Surrender her, and we'll allow you free passage back to your castle. We may be hungry zombies, but we are certainly not savages."

Edgar glanced at Marle centering her aim before jerking a free thumb in her direction. "Do you mean her?" he said. "Would you happen to be a horde of zombies that feeds only on the fairer sex?" He didn't have to turn to feel a glare burning through the back of his head, as it sent the hair on his neck standing to attention. If this unseen expression could kill, he'd be the deadest thing in this cavern. Angry she may be, but he did have a point in asking.

The lead zombie seemed to mull over the query for a moment. "The young lass does look quite lively and decadent, as do you all, and it is long past time for tea," he said, murmuring to himself. "But absolutely not!" The sudden yelling took them by surprise. "We are here for one snack and one snack only! Surrender the Asgardian Queen!"

Asgardian Queen? Well, that certainly confirmed the mysterious woman's identity, even with Ramuh's previous avoidances of the subject. Edgar turned back to said old man in time to see a defiant snarling glare. A grin couldn't help bubbling up to the surface as his attention returned to their adversaries; call it Figarian bravado. "What say we refuse?" he said with plenty of cheek. "I fail to a see a reason to surrender anyone for the 'good of your People' when a thousand years have not been kind to either of your civilizations. Nidavell, like your bodies, has long since fallen. You no longer have a reason to carry on such as you are." He made it a point to grip the chainsaw's pull-chord, in case he needed to instill life in the motor quickly. "And unless you allow us passage we will have no choice other than to cut down every last one of you."

The zombie army drew their blades near simultaneously; the ringing shing of metal scraping on metal so loud it was piercingly deafening. "We've waited a thousand years for the Queen's Mako, and now you aim to make our patience for naught!"

Queen's Mako…? Was that a horribly outdated word for magic?

With an inhuman snarl, the leader drew his own blade. "Long as we stand, Nidavell shall remain glorious! Right, lads! Chip, chip, churrah and all that!" He raised his blade high and immediately took a crossbow bolt to the face, exploding it into a goopy mess.

Marle scoffed. "Glorious, my well-toned butt!"

Before the lead zombie's inert body even hit the ground, Crono leaped into the fray with a wild unintelligible cry. Lightning flashed followed by the stench of pan-fried three-week-old spoiled pork. Crossbow bolts whizzed through the air with gore explosions at their destinations. If this was all of Hell breaking loose, Edgar didn't want to know what Hell looked like when it had been in one piece. He revved his chainsaw to life, and dashed into the thick of it, swinging his heavy and deadly weapon every direction he could. No enemy that approached him withstood its quick spinning toothed blade. Black gore flew everywhere, invoking laments of not wearing a face mask to keep the foul excrement from eyes. However, there was no time for retrieval or further lamentation, only decapitation and maybe vomiting from the smell if Lady Luck allowed.

After creating several gore fountains and growing piles of what had once been flesh, Edgar spotted the nearby speedy Crono repeatedly striking his adversaries as he ran circles around them. The young lad completed two or three laps before leaping in the air to catch a stray bolt of Ramuh's lightning magic with his blade. Upon his return to the ground, the resulting explosion of light left most nearby quivering uncontrollably. He pumped a fist in victory before moving to the next group.

Show-boater. Edgar had been about to comment on that ostentatious show of teamwork but was cut short the moment the chainsaw knocked free of his grasp. He ducked to avoid a sword swipe at his head and dodged to the side to evade another. Unfortunately, he stepped right into the path of yet another oncoming attack, this one complete with gnashing teeth. Well, this was a pity. Farewell, ladies everywhere. Farewell, Figaro.

From over his right shoulder, a slender feminine arm power-wielding a crossbow appeared and fired off a shot that sent the now faceless adversary back into oncoming traffic. A snarl dragged his attention back to the zombie who had set him on this path in the first place. Picking up the slack, Marle punted the bastard in the face with the butt of her weapon before firing it at point-blank range. "C'mon, Eddy!" she said during a quick reload. "Less staring at my butt and more blunt force trauma!"

Edgar, in a mad grab for his chainsaw, dove between the legs of an assailant, and rolled away from an attack of another. "I was not staring at your derrière," he said as he seized his weapon and returned to his feet. "I appreciate a woman for who she is rather than what she has!" He struck enemies with it until it revved to life. "Although, I will admit that I do enjoy a good jiggle now and then!"

"You have a one-track mind, Eddy!"

The battle continued with silent banter due to the enemy's overwhelming numbers. Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes multiplied by the tenfold. Truth be told, there are only so many ways to describe Edgar disemboweling zombies, Marle turning their faces into pincushions, Crono slicing them to bits, and Ramuh frying them into charcoal like granddad at last summer's barbecue. The full details of the battle are glorious - a work of literary art! However, such things will not be defined here. A total let-down, for sure, and any attempt at description would not do it justice. So, let's just stop bringing the story to this grinding halt, pull it out of its corner, give it a stern talking to, apologize on its behalf, and move on.^[1]

The battle was over. What the hell had happened? Had they truly defeated all of the enemy blocking their path? After what felt like an eternity, time returned to normal like a slap across the face. Edgar found himself staring at the piles of zombie remains surrounding him. Crono came up beside him, clapped him on the shoulder, and gave a grinning thumbs-up. Marle, panting into her knees, shook her head. "I never want to do that again," she said between gasping breaths.

Edgar laughed after sharing a grin with Crono. He said, "And yet you were the one who desperately wanted to come with!"

"I honestly didn't think we'd end up fighting an entire army of the undead." With an un-lady-like yelp, she stretched herself upwards. "But it sure was great letting loose!"

Movement amongst the piles of the now dead undead drew Edgar's attention. What was that he had just seen? A trick of the eye? Nerves? Had anyone else seen it? Of course, what exactly 'it' was remained a mystery.

Ramuh approached them from the entrance of the castle with quickened steps, the inert Celes clone still cradled lovingly in his arms. "Ancient Nidavell evil still curses this place. We should return to Figaro Castle, post haste!"

Another trick of the eye, this one a different location from the first, forced Edgar to turn physically. "I concur," he said. "I keep seeing movement where there is none." No sooner had he spoke, the cavern filled with the sounds of scuttling. It was if thousands of cockroaches had covered the stone floor. And that had been a close analogy. What actually scurried disgustingly across the ground were loose bones, severed limbs, and other ghastly bits and pieces. These bits assembled at a point not too far away and magically began arranging themselves in a particular, humanoid sort of way and one that Ramuh seemed to recognize. Edgar, new to this sort of defiling of human remains, was quite mesmerized by the whole thing.

"What's it doing?" Marle said, barely above a whisper.

"Quickly!" Ramuh hissed, as he inched towards the dark tunnels. "Flee before the Zombor becomes sentient! We cannot hope to defeat it as we are!"

Well, this certainly had gotten interesting and not in a good way. Edgar took several steps backward as the wretched demon formed bony arms and a dim red light in what had once been eyes. He had expected some trouble coming down here, but not anything like this. The old adage his father used to say, 'Rust never sleeps,' while used to describe the Empire, could not have ever been more accurate here. Rust always worked to change that what was susceptible into its image; right and proper destroyed by its very own corruption. And once that corruption started there was no stopping it, unless caught early and taken care of vigilantly. But this… This was rust that had ages to perfect its corruption. There was nothing he could do other than join the others in fleeing outright.

Terra coughed and waved dust from her face. What the hell had happened? One minute, she and Celes had been staring up at the stars, then the next something had exploded practically on top of them. A quick look around told her that she wasn't in the same spot they had been last she checked. That spot was now a smoking crater and Celes… Celes was crouched behind her, looking fabulously pissed.

"Locke! Sabin!" she bellowed at the top of her lungs. "We've got Guardians!"

Guardians? Wait. Huge-ass machines with MagiTek laser-firing heads that could disappear behind doors, rocket launcher arms that hung out of windows, and several spider-like legs that propelled it along the ground with ease? The ones that Kefka had referred to as Hell Houses? The ones that were the size of small houses?! The ones that looked like actual houses?! Those Guardians?! One interaction with even just one them could wipe out an entire town! Terra vaguely remembered fighting one while under Kefka's influence and barely surviving. If there were more than one attacking here, they were boned. Royally boned! This meant one thing: They were close enough to the city to have been spotted in the moonlight by patrolling Imperials.

Celes stood, looked out over the battlefield, and crystallized an ice blade in her hand. In a low, gravelly tone she said, "Terra, stay hidden. Let us handle this," and then, like a badass took a running leap off the hill turned cliff with a maddened war cry. It sounded something along the lines of "Fuck off, cocksuckers!" but with the distortion of yelling, there was some margin of error in comprehension.

Following in Celes' example, though not quite as recklessly, Terra used the loose soil and rocky make-up of a not-quite-so-vertical side of the hill to slide down with quickness. Stay hidden? She wasn't useless! Well, not entirely. She could still help in some small way! During her descent, she scanned the battlefield and made out two different groups of Imperials, each with their own Guardian. Celes was en route to engage, as were Sabin and the underwear-clad Locke.

Wait.

Why was Locke wearing women's panties under his T-shirt? She had to look again to make sure her eyes and the breaking of dawn hadn't deceived her. She hadn't been the only one to notice.

Sabin laughed and said, "That's rather lacey, Locke! Didn't realize you had taste!"

"This really isn't the time, Sabin!" Locke said gruffly.

That oddity aside, their adversaries most certainly were the Guardians that Terra feared they were. One of the mechanical monstrosities let loose with a MagiTek beam aimed in her direction that struck where she had been and not where she was going. The resulting explosion sent a shower of soil and very small rocks on a high-speed, unexpected trip. She zeroed in on the nearest group of Imperials and returned fire with literal fire, except Kefka's disembodied diabolical grinning face, and psychotic laugh broke her focus resulting in a plume of smoke instead. Bloody stupid brain! These mental distractions were getting tiresome! She stumbled to stop at ground level, stomped a foot in frustration, and readied herself to try again. She immediately thought better of it when another MagiTek beam rammed the hill, dissolving another section and spreading its wealth amongst the surrounding flat ground.

Once the onslaught of soil had ended, Terra again tried to focus, but there were so many targets and distractions. With Celes, Locke, and Sabin dancing willy-nilly around the battlefield, she was finding it difficult to separate her companions from their enemies. And that laughter, that god damn laughter echoing in her head was not helping matters. Targeting falsely would be acceptable if the magic fizzled out again, but honestly devastating if it didn't. She didn't want to live with those consequences. She had enough baggage to sort through at the moment.

"Take care of the little wankers!" Celes said, by now having engaged one of the Hell House Guardians. "The big wankers are mine!"

Another MagiTek laser materialized from Celes' Guardian opponent, missing her by a hair's breadth, and crashed magic first into the hill. Once again, a shower of stone and sediment rained down like fiery brimstone. The desire for solid cover was very real as Terra's bare arms were bruised and burnt from taking the brunt of these second-hand attacks.

She looked towards Sabin as he launched an Imperial soldier at the other Hell House Guardian. As if that would hurt it! Another Imperial, who had been sneaking up behind him, found himself with a dagger in the back when Locke instantaneously materialized from a shadow. The two of them had the Imperial humans under control, but the machines were still a threat, evidenced by the glowing MagiTek cannon that had appeared from a Guardian's mouth. Terra, again, focused and imagined deadly flames transforming hard metal to molten slag.

Nothing had changed from her influence. No fire. No puddles of liquid metallic alloys. She kept seeing that bastard clown shaking his head, wagging a finger, and clucking a disappointed tongue at her. He disappeared with a gleeful giggle when a MagiTek beam flew passed her at a phenomenal speed, so fast that by the time she turned her head, it was gone. It had been so close her exposed shoulder already started to blister from the heat. She could smell the unforgettable acrid smell of burnt hair. She could feel a small trickle of something wet adventuring down her legs and collecting in her boots. The realization that she had nearly died struck hard at that moment. No amount of cure magic could save someone from death! And she was the only healer in the group! Who'd heal the healer in that situation?!

So shocked was she by her near-death experience, she failed to realize another beam was priming itself to fire at her. She saw the multicolored flashing. She heard the high-pitched whine associated with said power up. But none of it registered; she was too busy listening to the voice in her head. Yes! Yes! it cried with gleeful giggling. Keep resisting, my pretty little magic user! Cling to your precious hope! You're going to find that doing so is hopeless; I'll always win!

The world changed positions, abrupt enough and hard enough to knock the phantom laughter out of her head. It took a moment for her to realize that it hadn't been the world that had moved, it had been her. She had been flattened to the ground on top of sharp pointy rocks that dug painfully into her back. She tried crying out, 'What the hell?' but all her brain could send to her tongue was nonsensical gibberish. Another explosion rocked her ears and showered her with dirt and dust.

"Baldur's Gate! It's a good thing I don't wear my hair long anymore!" Locke hissed in her ear, his face showcasing a mix of concern and frustration. "Between you and Celes, the two of you are gonna get me killed!"

Terra's shock took a back seat as adrenaline jumped in behind the reins. She had nearly become a puddle of half-esper goo and Locke had barred that from happening. She tried expressing her gratitude with words but failed miserably between her inability to talk properly and the distraction of the wonderful fleshy valley before her eyes. "Boobs," she finally said clearly in stretched-out amazement. She couldn't even help poking at one. Ultros' genderswap curse was still in effect?! Just how the hell had Locke managed to hide those things? They were bigger than hers! Granted, everyone's were bigger than hers by default; she was a bloody ironing board!

Locke growled. "If that's supposed to be an impression of Edgar--" Another MagiTek beam flew passed overhead, showering them with terrain and, again, forcing them to take cover under their arms. Terra, unable to see anything beyond Locke's ear and dark bed-hair, could only focus on the warm squishy sensations pressed up against her chest. They weren't Celes' by any stretch, but she wanted to bury herself in them just the same.

Sabin called from somewhere on the battlefield, "I could use a hand over here!" This was then followed by several ground-rattling explosions that forced them into cover. If someone like Sabin needed help, then… Terra couldn't bring herself to finish the thought. Forget Locke's boobs and whatever the reasons he had hid them! They needed to get back into the game!

"Cole!" Celes shouted over the clanging of ice on metal. "Sabin's pinned down! Stop rubbin' up on my girlfriend and get your arse in gear!"

Another look of frustration passed Locke's face as he muttered a few inaudible curses. He rose to his hands and knees once certain danger had passed and said tersely, "We'll discuss these later!" In an instant, he was gone and back in the thick of the fight, leaving Terra terribly alone, horrified about their current situation, and confused and angry that a man had more feminine curves than her. She stood and tried to ignore the fact that she was uncomfortably wet from the waist down. And the insides of her boots were squelchy! Ew! Stupid bladder! She was going to give it a stern talking to when this was over!

She readied herself and scanned the battlefield once again. Locke and Sabin had culled the Imperial soldier population by beating the ever-living snot out of them. Celes kept the Guardians busy with in-your-face attacks while her breasts threatened to distract everyone with near-miss tank top malfunctions. Though, how that would distract a machine was anyone's guess. Terra closed her eyes and let the scene appear in her mind. She set off a fiery explosion that overturned one of the Hell Houses and allowed a topless Celes easy access to its soft underbelly. Kefka again appeared to shake his head at her in a disapproving manner. Opening her eyes filled her with the disappointment that nothing she had seen in her mind's eye had actually occurred; Celes was still fully clothed, and the fire spell had only created a scorch mark.

Baldur's Gate! Well, at least there was some improvement in her ability to magic fire.

A hand on her shoulder quickly turned into a bear hug from behind. Another gloved hand slapped her mouth shut and muffled her startled cries of surprise. "Gotcha!" said a nasally and alcohol-laden voice in her ear. "Oi! Ya fuckin' dickheads! I got me a ripper of a Fire Witch! Somebody get that bloody anti-magic collar!"

Terra struggled to break herself free, but this grip was rock solid. She'd rather die than be forced to wear another anti-magic collar! Where had this asshole come from, anyway?

"Simmer down, sheila," the voice said with quiet intent. "You'll be back with Lord Kefka soon enough, hey. Just relax, and we'll get ya back home."

Home?! Back with Kefka?! Suffering slavery, torture, and abuse?! Paraded around like some kind of dog on a leash?! Over her dead body! Terra's fight and flight mechanism snapped with the biting of the hand stifling her, a guttural screech, a flash of rainbow, and the godawful taste of boiled leather and copper. She flicked her head back with enough force that she heard and felt the breaking of her would-be captor's nose. Ignoring his cry of pain, she tore herself away from his weakened grasp and followed it up with a claw to the throat, knocking him, bloody and choking for air, down to the dirt. Behind where he had been more soldiers ran in her direction.

"I'm not his damn plaything," she cried as the surrounding area lit up from flickering firelight. She didn't know where it had come from and she didn't care. All that mattered was that every single one of these Imperials needed to go! Reaching out with the hands of Gravity, Terra snatched hold of anything that wasn't bolted down—rocks, bushes, chunks of soil, the soldier whose trachea she had just ripped out—and flung it all at such high speeds that it had been like a plumber throwing fireballs.^[2] The soldiers stopped in their tracks and tripped over each other to run away in fear. Some projectiles missed, while others connected to their intended targets, knocking them down and setting them alight with fiery screams of terror and pain. They wanted to take her back?! Well, she wasn't going down without a god damn fight!

"Who the hell designs robots to look like a house with a head and spider legs?" Locke cried over the sounds of explosions.

"Either a drunk or some dude with a wicked imagination," Sabin said.

Terra turned her attention back to her friends. Locke and Sabin were squaring off against one of the Hell Houses, while Celes was on the 'roof' of the other playing a game of 'Wack-a-Moogle' with its head. Again, she reached out with Gravity and scooped up everything nearby she could get her grubby little magical hands on. She was going to help whether they wanted it or not!

Celes snorted and took another swing and a miss. "He's Vectorian, so drunk!" she called out.

Sabin dove to the side to avoid being crushed by a tentacle-like leg and rolled to his feet. "Takes one to know one, right?"

"Up yours, Figaro!"

As their mechanical adversaries started charging their lasers, Terra, with a cry of desperation, sent fiery ammo at high speeds in their directions. Rocks and swords punched and pierced holes in metallic sides, while ragdoll Imperial soldiers impaled themselves on mechanical heads each, preventing movement. More lifeless soldiers bashed the heads back through their window holes with the loud crunching of seizing gears and snapping pulleys. Smoke billowed out from the seams of both Hell Houses before the battlefield exploded with enough force to knock everyone nearby off their feet.

Terra slumped to a knee to catch her breath. She had just destroyed two of the Empire's most dangerous autonomous machines, and what a rush that was! She had never used so much gravity magic in such a short burst before!

Wait.

She had claws digging into the dirt. The white fur on her arms matted to her skin, stained red and wet with blood, either hers or someone else's. When had she transformed? Had that been the reason for the increase in her power?

A strange high-pitched whine distracted her from her thoughts. Worry flew to the forefront as the sound multiplied, rising in volume and surrounding her on all sides. What the hell was that? Why was Celes running towards her and screaming her name in a frantic frenzy?

She slowly looked over her shoulder and found that a murder of Hell House Guardians had flanked her. Where they had suddenly come from, she didn't know. What she did know from the thickening of the color of magic was that deadly lasers were charging. Celes was running her direction to save her, but… Was there saving from multiple MagiTek lasers ready to fire point-blank? Terra knew she had to run away, but the perception of skewed time, her fear, and a leaky bladder kept her rooted in place. If only there were some way to make these mechanical assholes disappear!

What are you waiting for, my little magic user? the voice in her head said with a snide chuckle. Make them disappear! Turn them to slag! Burn them to a crisp! DESTROY THEM!

Terra spun on a heel and, with a desire to make the Hell Houses vanish from her sight, let loose with a magic spell. However, instead of a great big ball of fire, it had been a spell that granted her wishes; the three mechanical adversaries dematerialized from sight. At first, she thought she had banished them with some kind of low-tier warp magic. But, if that had been the case, why did Celes smack face-first into thin air with a metallic thud, and then fall to the ground a bloody mess? And why were there disembodied, hovering lights of charging MagiTek?

Realization dawned when her esper eyes caught odd refractions of light that she would have missed in her human form. They were still there! She had only made them invisible! She, and now Celes, were going to die in the worst way possible! The whine of impending death increased in volume, deafening her. Panicking, Terra defensively raised her hands, screamed, grabbed the sides of the tiny hole that had appeared in front of her, and used all her might to pry it open. Anything to rectify the situation! Anything to quickly flee! She didn't want to die! Not here! Not now! She still had so much left to do! --to experience! Either she or these assholes needed to go!

Doubling down on her efforts proved fruitful. Without warning, the hole in her hands snapped open with an audible wet-sounding pop, quadrupling in size and shape, to reveal its chilly and starry two-dimensional void for the entire world and all of its alternate universe variations to see. An eager voice echoed out from all times and all places, like a distant whisper on the wind. "That you, Bartz?!" it said, almost sounding hopeful. "I'm itchin' for another chance to put you in your…"

The voice had paused, allowing Terra to read her surroundings. Celes had broken her nose and seemed confused by it. Light no longer refracted in strange ways. The mechanical whining had ceased; it and its associated twinkling lights silenced by the darkness. The rich color of magic had dissipated and spread out naturally. The battlefield suddenly felt empty. It was if the wall of nothingness had sucked everything into its void. Was this…a rift in space and time? Had it always been there? Had she created it?

"The hell?" the voice continued. "Who designs war machines to look like freaky houses with heads and spiders' legs?" The rift then collapsed as quickly as it had opened, but not before MagiTek explosions reverberated here, there, and everywhen. "God damn you, Bartz!" It had been like hearing a far-off battle faintly on the wind, so faint that it could be questioned whether it was heard at all.

The plains field breathed a sigh of relief and enjoyed the long silence with dancing grasses in the golden Downunder sunrise. Terra, on the other hand, wanted to fill that overbearing hush with words, but couldn't bring herself to do so. The only sounds she made were that of her hair and dress lazily billowing in the light breeze, but she ultimately had no control over that. Even after reverting to her human form, she continued staring at nothing.

She had ripped the universe a new space-time hole—by herself. It was worrisome to think she had that much power at her disposal and that she had discovered it by accident. She had all of her memories back and intact, but this was something different. What else could she do? What else did she not know about herself?

Celes was the first of the group to speak, although her voice sounded odd as if she had shoved a box of wet tissues up her nose. The blood pouring down around her mouth certainly didn't help either. "Was that...?" She paused as if she were just as much in disbelief as Terra. "Was that the fabled X-Zone?"

The X-Zone? The hypothetical dark universe that Vectorian scholars claimed bonded all universes together? The theoretical source of all magic in the multiverses? The very same one that Kefka had tried to reach and failed numerous times?

Terra touched the spot where the dimensional doorway had opened and felt nothing but air. It was as if it had never happened. She even doubted whether the battle had happened, despite being an active participant. The only telltale signs were the bloodstains in the grass, the half-demolished hill, the burns on her arm, her wet panties, and Celes' broken nose. Speaking of, she slowly turned her head and shyly made eye contact. She wanted to scream that it had been, that she was scared, and that she wanted a damn hug, but her words failed her. Instead, all she could do was lovingly take her partner's face in her shaking hands, touch their foreheads together, and embrace her with a dose of curative magic that, thankfully, didn't fizzle out.

"Still can't talk to me, huh?"

Terra doubled down on their embrace. "I want to," she nearly said, but halfway through her voice faded into a breathy, scratched whisper.

"We should probably salvage what we can of our gear and get a move on," Locke said as he and Sabin approached them. "When these guys fail to report in, this place'll be swarming with Imperials."

Sabin said, "And probably more Guardians." He punched an open palm. "It was a fun fight, but I'd like to avoid those guys if we can."

Celes sighed and, much to Terra's disappointment, broke the hug. "You and me both." Her eyes narrowed when her gaze turned to Locke. It was a look that Terra was all too familiar with; she was scrutinizing him. "You know. I have to ask, mate…"

Locke, now on defensive damage control, folded his arms across his chest and looked away. Either something in that direction was interesting, or he was trying to hide the embarrassment on his face. "You don't have to," he grumbled. "In fact, we can pretend this never happened."

Sabin guffawed from the belly, loudly and obnoxiously. "No way, man!" he said as he clapped Locke on the shoulder. "None of us can unsee this!"

"He's right," Celes said with a mischievous glint in her eye. "And I thought I wore frilly knickers."

Terra nodded her agreement before focusing on what his folded arms were holding up. She tried saying, "You have bigger boobs than me," but the only intelligible part had been the word 'boobs.' She mentally screamed at the prospect that it made her sound like a pervert, but no one really seemed to notice that.

"Tits, indeed. Something we need to discuss, Miss Cole?" Celes' cheeky emphasis sent Sabin into another fit of laughter.

Locke sighed and buried his face in a palm. "Guess I don't have a choice now." He groaned. "This was not how I wanted to come out."

"Be thankful my brother's not here!" Sabin said with a wink.

Celes snorted. "There's a disaster waiting to happen."

Locke stormed away with a scoff. "I'm well aware of that."

Terra shifted her gaze between her two remaining companions, hoping beyond hope that someone would attempt to diffuse the animosity. Celes caught her eyes and, understanding the intent, shook her head. "Let's leave him alone for a while, hey," she said, cutting off Sabin before he could say anything further. "He'll tell us when he's ready." Terra nodded in agreement and couldn't help but wonder what Locke had meant by 'coming out.' What an odd choice of words. What was he coming out of? His situation was just the result of a persistent, incurable magical curse, right?

Cid stared at his ransacked laboratory. Desks were overturned and half-charred. Papers littered the floor haphazardly and, in some cases, stuck to the walls and ceiling as if they had been glued there. Beyond the far doorway, where both doors hung limply on broken hinges, the growth tank sat shattered and empty. Cure fluid coalesced with bits of glass in dangerous, dark blue puddles. His staff, called in by the same alarm that had awoken him, worked quickly on clean up.

The experiment was gone.

He didn't know how to feel just yet as shock was still running through his system like a drug, but he did know what he was going to be feeling when everything finally set in. The Emperor was going to have his head, and Kefka was going to be the one to separate it from his body. He stood over the remains of the growth tank and rubbed his neck in anticipation. That was not an experience he was looking forward to.

"Hello, Cid!"

The suddenness of the voice behind him made Cid jump nearly out of his bathrobe, but the long, drawn-out snideness told him just who it was that had snuck up on him. It was the last person he wanted to see right now: Kefka. He turned and addressed his superior with a bow. "My Lord," he said, "I'm afraid that…"

"Oh, I know!" Kefka said with a giggle. "Absolutely horrible news! Our little experiment has gone missing!" He began circling both Cid and the tank with a slow, deliberate gait, all the while snickering like he was crazed. "Why, I wonder how that could have happened? Who could have done such a thing? Why would they have done such a thing?"

"I'm not sure, my Lord. I just learned of the incident and had yet to inves-"

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head over it, Cid." The grin Kefka gave was terrifying, like staring down a hungry don, and his laughter made him sound like a menagerie of jokers. "I'm sure it wasn't anything ordered by the Emperor. I'm sure it has nothing to with going over a twenty-four-hour time limit or the Returners on our doorstep."

Returners? Returners were heading towards Vector? There was no way they'd win against the Empire! They were few in number and disorganized beyond any hope of salvaging! Besides, anyone who made it to the Vector city limits would be dog food when the Hell House Guardians found them.

Kefka continued to prance around the room like a theatrical prince. "Alas! Our poor, poor Guardians! Destroyed in the blink of an eye!" His sudden laughter came out slightly more deranged than usual. "My little assassin assistant continues to shock and amaze me! Such power! Such glorious power! If only I could taste it, taste her, once more!" He stopped in front of Cid and grabbed him by the collar, forcing their faces so close together that Cid could smell coffee with a slight hint of the ozone of magic. "Get this mess cleaned up quickly, Del Norte Marquez, and meet me in the Emperor's chambers. You're going to awaken the experiment there. Fail to do so in a timely manner will force me to do something drastic in Jidoor. You wouldn't want that, would you?"

As Kefka left the room and his diabolical laughter followed, a sinking feeling dragged Cid down to the lowest pit of his own personal Hell. If only he hadn't tampered with the original experiment. If only Kefka hadn't discovered his daughter in Jidoor. If only they had nothing to use against him to force him into these atrocities. But these were the cards he was dealt. All he could do was whatever he could to keep his daughter safe amongst the nobles of Jidoor.

They had traveled the countryside the entire morning, starting just as the sun spread shadows over the blood-red Downunder soil and only stopping when stomachs demanded attention several hours later. Celes had wanted to keep moving; breaks were for pussies. They were less than a day's travel to Vector now, and all that separated them from their mission was getting into the city undetected. Well, getting in wasn't the problem. Not getting caught was the problem. Both she and Terra no doubt had their faces plastered all over the city advertising their treason and rewarding their capture. As a general popular with civilians, she was well known throughout the continent. As an elusive mind-controlled assassin, Terra wasn't quite as known to the populace, but her appearance was too exotic to blend in with the average drunken Vectorian.

Celes kicked herself for not realizing this sooner.

Off in the distance, Terra nodded at Sabin's unheard instructions, sat down in the tall grass, and closed her eyes. Sabin joined her after making a few corrections to her posture. He had hoped that teaching her his methods of relaxation would help put the jumbled mess of her mind into order. Celes had meditated a few times in her life but rarely did it do any good. Her body could never fully relax. Her mind could never entirely shut off. Zen was always just out of reach. But just because it never worked for her, didn't mean that it wouldn't work for anyone else. It was evident that Terra's first and second choices, crying and brooding respectively, weren't working. Hopefully, for everyone's sakes, meditation did the trick.

Celes stood in place for a while, watching the still silence, before eventually growing bored and, as much as she hated to admit, hungry. Before she could walk away, a sandwich materialized before her eyes. This was surprising. She didn't have magic that could pull food out of reality's ass. "You really need to eat something, Celes," Locke said from beside her. "You're not as indestructible as you think are."

She took the offering with a terse scoff. Before taking a bite, she said, "I never said I was indestructible, mate. I'm just really good at what I do." Smoked beef, cheese, Figarian mustard. She would have chosen proper Nikean mustard, the stupidly spicy kind that was a bitch to find elsewhere because the world was full of pussies, but Locke had saved her the trouble of making it. A small price to pay for a tasty sammich. Also, they had no Nikean mustard.

Locke folded his arms across his chest and tried to hide his snide laughter. "You're good, yes, but you've been hurt more times and more severely than the rest of us combined."

"What can I say, mate? I've got Lady Luck and mad skills on my side."

His grin fell when he regarded her from the corner of his eye. "Lady Luck is a fickle mistress, Celes," he said. "Be careful with that one because she'll have no qualms abandoning you when she finds someone new to embrace. And your mad skills are only as good as how you treat yourself. I've seen you skipping meals and sleep."

"What is this?" Celes said with a snort. "A Tzenish Inquisition?"

Locke fully turned to regard her with his dark eyes and ever enlarging frown. Flatly, he said, "Nobody expects a Tzenish Inquisition."

"That's what it feels like, mate. Especially when it's coming from someone who's been hiding magical curses from the rest of us." The nerve of this guy! Celes took another bite of her sandwich, all the while never removing him from her scrutinizing gaze. She even put her free hand on her hip to show that she meant business. A gale wind blew through the field, making the silence that had befallen them obnoxiously awkward. Using that as an excuse, Locke broke eye contact and found entertainment in smoothing out the wrinkles in his jacket sleeves. Undeterred, Celes leaned forward and softly said, "So, why'd you do it?"

With a sigh, Locke sat down in the grass. Once settled, he motioned for Celes to do the same. "I didn't want to tell you guys because some stupid octopus had turned me into an imp. I didn't want to have to tell you because my clothing didn't fit properly for an hour." He pulled his knees to his chin and stared at seemingly nothing. Perhaps he had actually been staring into himself. "I wanted to tell you on my own terms when I was sure that no one would tell Edgar. I wanted to tell you when I felt the time was right."

Celes sat on a rock next to him and gently patted him on the shoulder. She took another bite of her sandwich before querying softly, "What's wrong with telling me now?"

Another sigh. "Nothing. I just feel like I've been exposed."

Celes stifled laughter at the memory of watching Locke transform into an imp, his clothes too big to stay on him. He had shrunk in size, but his breasts had inflated to what would have been a modest size on an ordinary woman, thus creating a comical and gendered mismatch. It had been horrifying then, but looking back… Her laughter died upon the realization that this had happened on a stage in front of hundreds of people, not just herself, Terra, or Sabin. And then there was the possibility that Maria had seen the incident as well. Exposed, embarrassed, nothing between him and anyone. Unable to escape. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. How frightening of a situation. Almost like when Kefka had stripped her, tied her up, and offered her to the soldiers to play with as they wanted.

"You wanna talk about it, mate?"

Locke's eyes met hers and held position for a brief moment, long enough to tell her that he was grossly uncomfortable. "I do," he said slowly, "but I don't."

Indecisiveness. As much as she was an impatient person, Celes knew that rushing him wouldn't help anyone at this time. However, a distracted Locke wouldn't be able to adequately help them if they were going to storm Vector, Silius Sector of all places. He needed to get this off his chest, and he needed to do it of his own volition. "I'm not going to force you, Locke," she said. "But I'll listen when you're ready." He continued staring at the ground but nodded in acknowledgment.

Silence fell over them. Whether it was awkward for both, Celes was unsure, but it certainly was uncomfortable for her. She wanted him to spill his guts and explain things. Why did he pretend that Ultros' curse had faded? Had Ultros even changed his gender in the first place? If not, why pretend to be a man pretending to be a woman pretending to be a man?

"Did I ever tell you that I had been engaged before?"

Celes sat up straight and resisted the urge to look at Locke with the wide eyes of surprise. "No, you didn't." She laughed. "Considering how you acted around Maria, I'm guessed you had a thing for ditzy blondes with big tits."

"Uh, no. Not blonde. No tits." Locke smiled at the ground and sighed in a reminiscent sort of way. "But, man, did he have balls."

Balls…? The metaphorical kind or…? Wait. He? The literal kind? Did that mean Locke was a…? Or maybe he was…? Celes opened her mouth to speak, but the words just wouldn't form straight away. At least, not the ones she wanted. "What happened to him?"

Based on Locke's expression, she didn't think she'd get a response. Whatever had happened looked like it fell under traumatizing. "He died," he said in the monotone of someone trying to keep it together. "He died protecting me during an Imperial raid."

A chill shot through Celes' spine. Why did this sound familiar?

"Even though I had amnesia… Even though I had forgotten him, me, us…and turned my back on him…" Locke wiped away tears that had formed, but the gesture was futile. No sooner did he wipe them away, they were back once again. "Locke never turned his back on me."

"Very few men would do that, especially after being rejected. Sounds like he had a big heart." The fiancé had been named Locke? Then who was the person beside her? "So, you took on his name and identity?"

A nod of agreement. "Becoming him in the Returners was easy. Because my last name's Lockhart, everyone called me Locke anyway. I was already used to it." He chuckled softly and ran a trembling hand through his hair. "He was the only one who ever called me Rachel…for obvious reasons."

Rachel Lockhart? Didn't some old man say that was the name of Locke's deceased fiancée? Celes tapped her chin in thought. So, Locke died, and Rachel became him? "Why didn't you just join the Returners as yourself and honor him that way?"

"I did at first." Locke laughed an empty laugh and readjusted his legs. "But because I'm a woman, Edgar had the bright idea to stick me in the Durmoch mansion as a spy-maid. Not quite my style, you know? I'd rather be out scouting, getting people and things around high security, sabotaging the Empire's best-laid plans. It's what Locke did. It's what his dad did. It's what he taught me."

"So… He taught you how to be a thief?"

"Treasure hunter."

Celes winced from the glare cast in her direction. "Right. So, you're pretending to be your dead boyfriend? That's…kinda morbid. Sweet, but morbid."

Locke slumped forward. "I know," he said. "But I had to in order for the Returners to take me seriously. Plus, it was nice having a conversation with Edgar without him undressing me with his eyes."

Celes scoffed and shook her head. She muttered, "I can't fault you for that one. Bloody Figaro."

"I'm not a bad person for doing this. I think. I just wanted to make a difference. And… I'm sure Locke would have wanted it this way."

"Look, mate, I'm not going to judge. We all handle grief differently. Some of us honor our loved ones by assuming their lives. Others…" She sighed. "Others take their frustrations out on everyone around them."

Locke gave a weak and empty grin. "That definitely sounds like you to a tee," he said.

Celes snorted but had no witty retort, not when it was true. "So, tell me, was this what you wanted to talk to me about on the airship?"

"I panicked because I thought you would have recognized me. I thought catching you before you said anything to anyone would save me some embarrassment." He paused. "In retrospect, I should have just come out with it then. This has been way more embarrassing."

"Recognized you? Uh, sorry, mate. Not following."

Another long, awkward silence fell between them. Not that the conversation was any less awkward. Locke sighed once again and said, "We first met in Durmoch's mansion. I…" He paused and gave her a look that clearly stated that he did not want to share this information. "I was the maid that you slept with."

Celes jumped to her feet and shrieked, "That was you?!" Realizing that she could have just alerted the Empire to their location, she crouched down amongst the tall grass and hovered just in front of Locke's face. There was no possible way that he was the girl she had regretfully slept with. They didn't even look anything remotely alike…until her imagination grew his hair out into long, dark chocolate curls. The transformation had been so jarring that she fell backward to a sitting position. Hair! Of all things, it was hair! That was why she could never put her finger on his familiarity! She hissed quietly, "How? Why?"

"It was Edgar's brainchild. He wanted me to get information out of you and sway you to the Returners if possible," he said. "I didn't take the mission by choice. No offense, Celes, but sleeping with women and asshole men because it's my job isn't really my thing."

Celes buried her fist into the dirt by way of a punch to the ground. "Bloody Edgar!" she spat. "Next time I see him I'm freezing his balls to his arse!"

Locke buried his face behind a palm. "I should have kept my mouth shut."

"If it makes you feel better, we can forget that ever happened between us, hey. I don't exactly want Terra to know about it, you know? I mean unless you want her to do to you out of jealousy what she did to those Guardians this morning."

"I think I'll pass on that. Thanks." Locke grinned warmly and extended a hand which Celes took firmly with a handshake. "But at least I can say that it was because of you I stopped playing maid."

"But Edgar mentioned you in passing like you were still manning that post in Durmoch's mansion."

"I did that, and the saboteur work simultaneously for a while." Celes must have had an odd look on her face since he quickly offered a follow up with a shrug. "What can I say? I'm good at what I do. Got Lady Luck and mad skills on my side."

"Well, now that your secret's out what do you prefer we call you?"

Locke laughed hard, as if a giant weight had suddenly disappeared, and fell back into the grass. He, no, she spread her arms out all the while wearing a bright smile that, for some reason, reminded Celes of being reborn anew from the ashes of the fabled phoenix. "I'll leave it to you to decide. My name's Rachel, but my friends call me Locke."

^[1] Fancy talk for 'lazy-ass cop-out.' My condolences for your loss.^[return]

^[2] Truth be told, Terra hadn't actually thrown anything. When the objects in her grasp had wanted to know which way was down, she had merely responded with a lazily pointed finger and an even lazier, "Eh, that way."^[return]

Chapter Text

It was just another day in Vector, the Jewel of the Empire. Those who had worked the night shift had just finished and were on their way to experience their 'night' in broad daylight, or at least what constitutes as daylight in a city awash in eternal darkness. Those who were starting their 'morning' did just that only to waste it away until the swing shift relieved them. In this city clocks and living life to the fullest were all a waste of time, but sadly no one knew any better. How could they? Vectorians knew only what they knew and that was wasting their lives away for promises of peanuts from those in charge—the faceless Man.

As far as they knew, the Man wasn't really a man nor was He really a woman. The Man wasn't always a singular man; sometimes the Man was more than one. Sometimes the Man worked independently, but more times than not the Man was beneath another bigger Man who wielded more power and influence. It was a vicious cycle of grooming and psychological abuse that saw no end until it reached the very top, the very bottom, or someone died of stress and an overworked heart.

As was the case in Vector, the very bottom was always located in the slums of Midgard Sector where the poor received barely enough to feed themselves. They were effectively controlled and kept in check by the Man, the shareholders on the top—in Silius Sector. However, these shareholders failed to realize that checks and balances kept them in their places as well. Emperor Gestahl, unbeknownst to the general populace, sat atop every totem pole and at the end of every chain checking every balance and balancing every check.

The old proverb goes, 'Man of great wealth has finger in pie.' The Emperor had so many pies under him that he eventually ran out fingers and had to switch to toes. Ninety-nine percent of the city's wealth remained in the Imperial Palace and usually never left. Midgard only received two-tenths of that remaining one percent, and that happened to be an unusual anomaly in an unusual fiscal year.

Vector's economy was built for one person and one person only, the Man in charge—the Man's Man's Man, the Emperor. He alone dictated what everyone in his city did on a day-by-day basis and only if it benefitted him in some way, shape, or form. He was the reason for the slums—the worker bees—beneath the plate and the nobles—the enforcers—above.

To be fair, the system had existed long before Emperor Gestahl had taken command; he only inherited it and was as much a slave to it like everyone else. An endless cycle created in a time long before his father's ascension to power, he knew no better and, as such, used it to fuel his lavish desires and fetishes. If he had fathered an heir (which he hadn't), the child would have wandered onto the same damn dirty road.

Ignorant of the world around them, the general populace went about their business like they had the day before and the day before that. Cid, one of the rare Vectorians to have traveled the world in his youth, knew better. Settling down briefly in Kohlingen had expanded his horizons, showing him just how one-sided and flawed the Vectorian system truly was. However, while you could take a Vectorian out of Vector, Vector always came back to claim what rightfully belonged to it; kicking and screaming was usually involved along with a bit of brute force and psychological manipulation. Cid had learned first-hand that a Vectorian should not go against Vector.

His dear, sweet wife… She hadn't even been Vectorian! Those bastards! The look of fear etched onto her beautiful face like a carving of stone, her long blonde hair stained red, her slick blood on his hands—he remembered it all clearly still. The assassination, made to look like an accident, quickly morphed into threats against his daughter. To protect her, he had no choice but send her to live with his wife's parents, and himself to return and work on the Emperor's personal scientific projects.

Despite those steps, he had watched his daughter suffer, especially after the discovery of the esper half-breed. Every time she had rejected the esper's genetic material, he had listened to her mutated cries of anguish, her pain-filled pleas for death, her desperate bargaining for release. He had endured for her sake, all for her. If he did what the Emperor asked, what Kefka demanded, then everything would work out. And it did after the last experiment ended more than a decade ago. The threats against her dropped and she went on to have a successful career as a singer and an actress—the Jewel of Jidoor as advertised by her best-selling record albums.

But with this recent demand—this new experiment—being forced to relive the ghosts of his past once again had reawakened old fears and grudges. Seeing those expressions of fear and hearing those screams of pain from his daughter once again woke him from the rut of the daily grind of placidness and alcoholism. The whole thing was revolting.

How had he gotten to a place where no one could find him? How had he landed in the middle of this mess? The good things in life were long dead in the past, leaving the present an empty void of life. As a child, he had always been told that a perilous road traveled always got better the longer it was followed.

Ha! Bullshit! That was cheap talk to keep Vectorian citizens loyal to the Man fucking them without lubrication or a simple care for their well-being!

"It's bloody amazing what Professor Del Norte Marquez can do when he puts his mind to it."

"Ooooh! Just feel that power emanating in waves! It just gives me the shivers!" Giggling ensued. "Those retard Returners won't know what hit them!"

As Kefka's obscene cackling rang out from the Emperor's chambers, Cid stormed down the hallway away from those who had turned his life into a joke. Vector had taken his family. It had taken his dignity. It had forced him into a position where he could do nothing but play along. Enough was enough! There was nothing he could do about Terra, his dear sweet wife, but he had watched Maria suffer for the last damn time!

The tables were going to turn sharply on the Man and all the other Men under Him. And God help him, Cid was going to make sure he was part of that revolution one way or another.

If Kohlingen was filled with shit and Zozo coated in stale urine, the smells in the sewers hidden underneath Midgard, the lower slums of Vector, were an entirely different beast altogether. Kohlingen had been bad, for sure, but that had just been the product of old backwoods country men and their obsession with lawn care. Zozo had been just slightly worse because of the rain stirring up the old liquid excreta of a thousand drunkards. The stench here stunk up the place with underlying aromas of death and decay mixed with a hint of human excrement, which made it twenty times more horrible than a zombified fecophiliac possessing an obsession with rotten chicken in his month-worn, shit-stained, urine-soaked underwear. In fact, this was an odor more foul than all of those smells previously mentioned put together. This was a horrible vomit inducing stink that employed the same tactics as a crazy ex-lover turned stalker; it clung to everything and lingered everywhere regardless of your thoughts on the matter.

The only way to defeat this ungodly of odors—this stench of stenches—was through a lemon and bleach bath or maybe divine intervention. The gods of this world, however, avoided stinky places like their immortal lives depended on it. Because of this, it was a waste of time to expect the latter to happen any time soon.

"Baldur's Gate! This stench is unbearable!" Locke pinched her nose with one hand and waved the other about her face as if that would shoo away the thousands of years of smelly build-up. Fun fact: It was about as useful as collecting eggs lain by a male chocobo. Also, the stink was thicker than solid concrete.

Celes, at the front of the group and leading them through this god-awful maze of dimly-lit, eye-watering haze, scoffed before halting at an intersection. She quietly scrutinized all options—left, right, forward, and everything in between—before pointing in a random direction and taking that particular path. She said without looking back, "Suck it up, princess. This is on par with Kohlingen's front lawns if you ask me."

Terra shook her head in disagreement and continued taking shallow breaths through the fabric of her hood. Nothing could have prepared them for this torture; even Sabin started showing effects of succumbing to the toxic environment. He had long ago tied a handkerchief around his nose and mouth, for what little good it would do, and absentmindedly juggled with one hand a soccer ball he had found. As if that repeated and mindless act could distract anyone from the smell; his normally upbeat, can-do attitude had turned timid and sluggish regardless. It almost looked like he was suffering from poison. Of course, the sewers of Vector were one of the most poisonous foes they had so far gone up against. Only Kefka won that contest, and he won by the fact that he used actual poison.

Terra sighed and followed the others through the tunnel, taking care to avoid stepping on things of questionable natures and walking around the disgusting, disease-filled puddles when able. She hadn't wanted to enter the city through its sewers. She would have been more than happy to fly them over its protective walls one by one, but Celes had argued against it. "They'll detect your magic," she had said, "and then we'll all be dead by the time you get one of us over." Nobody wanted that. Being dead wouldn't help them or the captive espers.

Still, despite the sewers' obvious drawback in aroma, the architecture was quite amazing. Each tunnel they traveled was high enough that Celes, who was the tallest of the group, could traverse without stooping over provided she stayed in the center of its curved arch. Terra had no idea how old the brickwork was, but despite the cracks and crumbles of age, it was strong enough to support the weight of two cities and even that of their citizens' massively bloated egos.

Since entering this cesspit, they had been harassed a few times by some sort of spear-wielding ninja turtles of the teenaged mutant variety. Thankfully, these things only attacked in groups of four and were almost always quick to run away if hunting solo. Celes claimed that these creatures—she had called them Sahagin—were another victim of the Empire's genetic experimentation program let loose in the wild. Supposedly, it had been the field Professor Cid del Norte Marquez had specialized in before discovering MagiTek. However, as Locke had pointed out, genetics and MagiTek were two entirely different scientific fields. One focused on the building blocks of life while the other was a broad term that covered the artificial use of magic. How one led to the other only the Professor truly knew.

Terra wasn't book-smart enough to understand the conversation on a whole, but what she did understand horrified her. In fact, it reminded her of the newly remembered childhood memories she wished she could forget again – trapped in a sterile laboratory, poked and prodded with needles, cut with scalpels, attached to weird machines, Cid's constant melancholy expression. If the Empire had known that she was a half-esper, would that have been the reason they had experimented on her? In fact, could she be the reason that MagiTek even existed? Was she the catalyst that bridged the gap between two entirely different fields of science?

Unfortunately, she couldn't answer any of those questions. She had never paid much attention to what Cid and his assistants did after they had finished torturing her. They had usually left her in such a state that she had been unable to focus on anything but, not that she could have seen or heard much beyond the isolation of her solitary prison anyway.

Terra hugged herself and tried shivering her fears away. That was then and this was now, but the negative thoughts of then just wouldn't fade leaving her experiencing then once again in the now. If only she could go back a few days to keep herself ignorant of then, she'd be much happier now and probably still have a voice. Ignorance was bliss and buyer's remorse sucked the testicles off a dead Behemoth.

Someone must have seen the look on her face and correctly deduced that it hadn't been a result of their smelly environment. The conversation topic switched suddenly and without warning, or maybe she had just been that deep in thought. There was no real way to tell; not that it mattered anyway.

From over her shoulder, Celes snorted derisively. She said, "You mean to tell me that Maria was in on your little secret? I was wondering how and why you two got on so quickly."

Locke laughed with a nervous air and scratched the back of her head. "Yeah," she said, "she recognized me immediately. Although, I'm not sure if her involvement was a blessing or a curse."

"I dunno," Sabin said from behind. "She seemed pretty into you. I'd be awfully stoked about something like that."

Oh, right. They were discussing Locke's recent coming out as a woman; real name Rachel, but preferred nickname Locke which was also, ironically, the name of her deceased fiancé. Weird, yes, but so was the fact that she had managed to hide those handfuls of jealousy-inducing boobs with bandage wrap alone! It made no sense! If Terra had breasts like that she'd be showing them off to the world! Or playing with them! Or maybe both. Definitely not at the same time. That was even weirder.

Unless…

Unless she had access to a mirror. She'd watch herself start with light, teasing touches at her chest and slowly work her way down towards-

Terra slapped herself on her cheek before silently grumbling to herself. Dammit! Now she had the urge to drag Celes into a side tunnel away from prying eyes and have her way with her. Fat chance of that happening. There was a greater chance of getting struck by lightning down here. Being sexually aroused in such a depressing, disgusting place was a new low. However, no matter where she was she'd enjoy grabbing handfuls of those big, beautiful-

"Easy for you to say," Locke said, bringing Terra back out of her depraved and perverted thoughts. "You're a guy. And I'm not gay like Celes or Terra. Maria's not even close to being my cup of tea, you know?"

"Don't knock it 'til ya try it," Sabin said as he bounced the ball off his head and into his hands. "Who knows? You might end up liking it."

"Already tried it, and not because I really wanted to."

"What? With Maria?"

"No."

"Oh. How was it, anyway?" Sabin coughed. "You know. For science…as Edgar would say."

"Let me put it to you this way: how would you feel doing it with another guy?"

"Point taken." Sabin again coughed, leading Terra to wonder if the environment was getting to him or if the redirected questioning made him nervous. "Would you do it again?"

"Uh, no."

Sabin laughed quietly and then mumbled something that got lost under his breath, his distraction toy suddenly stationary under his arm.

Celes said with a snort, "Well, I sure hope the shelia you shagged doesn't hear about that without context, hey. She might start questioning her ability to please another woman." An awkward moment of silence then followed with Celes looking back while bearing a malicious smirk and Locke wearing an expression like she had been stripped naked. Terra switched her gaze between the two and wondered if there was some sort of subtext present that she had missed.

After slumping with a sigh, Locke said, "Duly noted." She then squared her shoulders and lifted her head as if the incident had never happened. "Going back to the original topic... Maria's flirtatious advances were the real deal. She had a serious thing for me when we were growing up. Honestly, I'd hoped that it'd've faded over time."

Celes made a noise of quiet acknowledgment. "What was Maria like as a snot-nosed kid?"

"Kinda like you, actually."

"Like me…?" The expression on Celes' face was one that Terra had seen before; it was an advertisement of a hunger for violence.

Locke, either oblivious to the brewing storm or ultimately not caring about it, shrugged as if her answer were unnecessary. "Yeah, in just about every way," she said. "Loud, obnoxious, angry all the time, picked fights at the drop of a hat…"

Celes spun around to walk backward, all the while her unamused countenance dangerously growing. Terra knew that look; things were about to get hairy unless someone diffused the situation soon. She hastened her pace with hopes that she'd be able to reach her partner in time to calm her down.

"…Very lesbian."

That last statement made Celes and, by proxy, the entire party, stop on a gil. Sabin wisely chose to remain silent. Even Terra had to bite her tongue to keep from gasping in surprise, but it did leave her wondering what it even meant. Celes was Celes, even if she was angry a good portion of the time. What did being attracted to women have to do with anything?

After a year's worth of perceived silence, Celes abruptly faced forward once again and continued walking, almost as if nothing had happened. "Right," she said after a scathing scoff. "I'll give you that one, but I'm not any of those other things."

Locke's grin grew with mischief, almost as if she believed she had won this little tat. "Says the stereotypical angry lesbian."

"There's nothing stereotypical about me. Besides, you're the one makin' me aggro, mate."

Sabin let out a bellow of a laugh before saying, "There you go gettin' loud again!" Clearly, he didn't notice the irony of his statement. It was like a chocobo accusing its human master of being a bird-brain.

Celes responded with an over-the-shoulder glare and the back of her raised middle finger. "Don't make me kick your arse, Figaro."

"There she goes again," Locke said while elbowing Terra in the arm, "picking a fight! Can you believe that?" The grin had grown into an all-out smile complete with dimples in the cheeks and twinkling in the eyes.

Terra had to admit, Locke's enthusiasm with teasing Celes was adorable. And Celes' look of embarrassment was even more so! Both were pleasant scentless lights in this dark cesspit of a place.

"Fine. Whatever, hey," Celes said after sighing in defeat. "However, Maria doesn't seem to be any of those things now. If she hadn't told me she hides her sexuality, I'd never have figured her as such."

Locke shrugged. "Getting hauled off to a Whozyerian orphanage will probably do that to a person."

"Orphanage?"

"Yeah. Her mom died at some point before I was born, and her dad is some wandering deadbeat. Her grandparents raised her until they died. Nobody else in town wanted the responsibility when that happened, so she was shipped off to the only orphanage around—Zozo."

"Baldur's Gate. I can only imagine what that was like."

And with that declaration, the conversation fell into a silence where the far-off drips and drops could communicate with each other. A hidden storm drain somewhere told its story, its trickling voice echoing throughout the sewers. Considering where they were and how old an area it appeared to be, Terra imagined that it would have been an epic tale especially one told through rhyming poetry, but fluent in water she was not.^[1] Such a lack of linguistics forced her to find entertainment elsewhere, mainly in Celes' and Locke's bouncy bits. Everything else was either sorely lacking that something to hold her attention or just not there at all.

They continued on, silently wandering the catacombs, guided only by the memory Celes possessed of that one and only time she had gotten lost in this place. Turn here. Go straight here. Make another turn, but in a different direction than the last, then wonder if they were lost. Someone sneezed at some point causing everyone to jump at nothing. Everyone laughed it off and kept walking, but ultimately got lost again. Three words best described the experience: dull and forgettable.

Eventually, they came upon a room that was unnecessarily oversized, almost like a cathedral. Lit torches bolted to the walls flickered on either side. Copper pipes, now verdant with age and corrosion, funneled water from some far-off location to the floor. No matter where she stood, Terra's boots were now submerged up to the tips of her toes. The very thought of standing in wastewater made her want to retch.

Celes stopped in the center of the room and immediately went on guard. "Is it just me, or has the vibe in here changed?"

Locke pulled her daggers free. "I feel it too. Like this room was built for a fight."

Shivers crawled up and down Terra's spine when something cold and wet invaded her boots. The water level had risen several more inches, just enough to turn her socks squelchy. How the hell was this happening? She tried calling attention to it, but her words failed her and came out as a garbled mess…again.

Sabin said, "Uh, has anyone noticed that the water's rising?" At least someone could voice what she was thinking. Surprising, though, that he hadn't also noticed the unseen clinking of rattling chains that caught her interest.

Celes immediately cursed. "Make a break for it!" she said. "I don't want to be killed by a god damn Aps!"

"A what?" Locke said with a scratch of her head.

A roar echoing from behind not only enhanced the urgency in Celes' words but also revealed just what an Aps was. From a pipe near the ceiling where they had entered hung a giant blue-skinned bipedal pig-like creature, easily three times Celes' height and four times the size of Sabin in bulk. The bared teeth in its dog-like snout could easily shred a man to pieces. Hunger twinkled in its red, gleaming eyes. Shackles adorned its wrists and ankles along with broken lengths of chain giving the incredibly loose impression it was an escaped pet.

The Aps roared loud enough and close enough that Terra's hood flipped back. It dropped to the floor from its perch, the shockwave powerful enough to—out of mere inches of water—cause a tsunami strong enough to nearly bowl them all over. It bellowed angrily once again, this time covering them all in slimy spittle. Terra cowered behind her gloved hands and nearly added to the puddles in her boots. That was the thing she had heard?! That was an Aps?!

"Don't question it!" Celes shouted. "Just move your arses!"

And so, they ran with metaphorical tails between their legs while the monster gave chase. Another roar boomed throughout the catacombs, rattling the walls and shaking loose small debris from the ceiling. Wave crests formed and broke with every earth-shattering step as if the water was in cahoots with the monster and trying to trip them up. As she fled, Terra hoped and prayed that this stinky sewer wasn't going to be her final resting place. It'd be even better if she didn't end up in this creature's belly.

"Where are we going?" Locke called out.

"Anywhere but here!" Celes called back.

They were all so panicked that no one noticed they had run through a doorway that literally led to nowhere until it was too late. With a curse, Celes vanished from sight first. Locke and Sabin were so diligent in following that they disappeared second and third. Terra hadn't fully realized the situation until her heart decided to stay in the same spatial location, lodging itself in her throat, after the ground disappeared out from under her. As gravity pulled her down several floors, she briefly noticed pretty man-made waterfalls surrounding her on all sides. The sound of water talking to itself was soothing and nearly lulled her out of her fear until she smacked into the pool below with an ear-shattering, excruciatingly gut-wrenching belly flop. The pain and the shock were so great that she nearly cried out. However, it was a good thing she hadn't; she had landed face-down in the water. Drowning so didn't suit her style.

As she cringed from the sting and waited for her limbs to work again, she caught a glimpse of Celes, Locke, and Sabin swimming their way down to the bottom towards what looked like an entrance to a dark claustrophobic corridor. Before she could curse them for leaving her behind, an explosion rocked the catacombs somewhere above making it rain debris all around her, each chunk of stone giving off a thunderous splash that reverberated throughout the sewer. She looked upwards, full-well dreading what she knew she'd see.

Up above, the monster had crashed through the tiny doorway and now looked down on them, as if it were contemplating what to do. It made eye contact and then roared in frustration. The contemplation seemed to be over and action not too far away—scary, dreadful action.

Panicking, Terra sucked in as much air as she could and took off after her companions as quick as a small dive and doggy-paddling would allow, pain be damned. If only she could swim as powerfully as Celes! Or as gracefully as Locke! Hell, she'd even take Sabin's ability to sink like he wore iron boots. She didn't want to die here! She didn't want to drown or be crushed by some oversized monster! She still had things to do! Nasty governments to bring down! Espers to save! Boobs to caress and snuggle between at night!

Terra pushed herself to swim faster and farther. She ordered her arms to drag herself forward. She forced her legs to make up for what her arms couldn't do. She ignored the burning. She ignored her lungs and their threats of bursting. She was at least thirty feet below the surface; now certainly wasn't the time to take a deep breath or to even give up! Another thunderous splash nearly burst her eardrums and tried mixing her into the drink. That meant only one thing: the Aps was in the water and the chase was on! Again!

She darted into the corridor and briefly stopped to gawk at the sight of Locke taking a deep breath from a bubble that had come from a burst pipe on the floor. That meant… Air! Her lungs could finally get a quick reprieve! She closed the distance before shoving her head into the largest bubble she could find and taking the biggest breath she could—and what a glorious feeling it was! Sadly, it burst no sooner she had her fill, leaving her completely surrounded by water once again, but that didn't matter at the moment. She was refreshed! She could once again carry on!

Locke gave Terra a thumbs-up before taking her by the hand and pulling her along to catch up with Sabin and Celes, both of whom were up ahead fighting off white squid-like creatures. Well, Sabin was trying at least; the water slowed his momentum down so much that his kicks bounced off in slow-motion. However, that soccer ball worked wonders as a throwing projectile. Celes, on the other hand, used the water's buoyancy to her advantage, giving the impression she was leaping around in low gravity. And if that wasn't enough, she wasn't using her sword to attack, but lemon-shaped ice magic projectiles.

Terra didn't get a chance to ponder the strange underwater battle tactics further as a giant claw nearly dragged her and Locke back out into the main chamber. Luckily for the both of them, like a cat batting at a mouse in a wall, the Aps had missed and, additionally, was too big to fit into the corridor itself. Surprisingly, thanks to auto-pilot, she discovered that she could still throw fireballs in this environment. They oddly bounced off everything like rubber balls until they hit their target with pretty underwater explosions. It was weird—even Locke looked bewildered—but Terra wasn't going to, as Locke would say, look a gift chocobo in the mouth, especially since the squids transmuted into shiny gil coins after being barbecued.

Satisfied that the Aps was distracted and somehow on fire underwater, the two of them made it to another large cylindrical chamber that led nowhere but up. The surface, while visible, seemed too far away to swim. That fact didn't stop Celes from trying, nor did it stop Sabin from wall-kicking between the sides as if, for him as well, water physics and gravity were mere trifles. Large air bubbles formed from cracks in the floor and followed after, not wanting to be left behind.

The whole sewer shook with explosive thuds, telling them that the Aps wasn't about to give up on its mid-morning snack. Terra looked to Locke, wondering if she had a plan in mind. Immediately, Locke stripped Terra of her hooded cape and motioned for her to hold on to two corners. No sooner did she do as instructed, an air bubble formed under the fabric and, like a hot air balloon, sent them skyrocketing.

Celes, not wanting to be left behind, grabbed onto Terra's left boot as they passed. After kicking off a wall, Sabin decided to join them at the halfway point by landing on top of the bubble, his makeshift weapon lost amongst the excitement. How the bubble remained intact entered the realm of puzzling. How it continued to float them to the top, quickly at that, reigned supreme as far as questions went. Terra decided that she, again, wasn't going to look a gift chocobo in the mouth; it was taking them to safety and, as an added bonus, she got an eyeful of massively wonderful cleavage whenever she looked down.

The greatest moment in Terra's life hadn't been that one time in Zozo when she had discovered rain after climbing a never-ending flight of stairs nor had it been the first time she had slept with the most awkwardly adorable woman she knew. Screw both of those! It was now, the moment they broke the surface and filled the sewer with gasping, coughing, and sputtering. Never had she felt so happy to breathe tainted air in her life! She'd never do something like swimming in waste again for as long as she remained living if she could help it.

She quickly joined the others in scrambling to what constituted as dry land and recovering from that horrible life-shortening, breath-taking ordeal. After coughing the water out of her lungs, she collapsed to her back to enjoy the act of breathing. There was also the view of Celes breathing heavily on her hands and knees while her water-logged clothing clung to her form in just the right way to accentuate the eye-catching jiggling of her—

Terra, out of embarrassment, quickly looked away. This was certainly not the right time to be thinking of such things. They had just swum around in nasty, filthy water! So not a turn on! Instead, she focused on a sign on the nearby wall that read, 'Shynee gooldan wyarr of hoap. Ded ahed,' along with an arrow pointing down the hall. Shiny golden wire of hope? What was that? The exit? If it was, it was a horrible analogy. The handwriting and spelling were pretty atrocious as well.

"I think I swallowed something unsavory," Sabin said in a breathless complaint.

Celes snickered between gasps for air. "Dammit, Sabin!" she said. "Don't make me laugh! It still hurts to breathe!"

"I wasn't joking."

"Mate, gross!"

"Hey, guys…" Locke said softly. "What's that sound?"

No one else vocalized their opinions, but Terra could tell that they were all thinking the same thing. Tired, sore, and unable to move, she intently listened to the loud thuds filtering up from beneath the water. In fact, the noises were so loud that it felt like the entire foundation of the sewer was shuddering. Hell, even the water rippled out from every solid object within it.

Celes coughed and hacked up a bit of water. Gross. "That Aps must be trying to break through that tiny corridor to get to us."

Locke, with worry in her eyes, said, "Do you think it can?"

"No way, mate. These sewers have been around for bloody centuries. They even withstood destruction during the War of the Magi. No way an Aps is gonna root it all up."

It started as a tiny crack and a splash so unexpected that Terra bolted upright and nearly into Locke's lap. Silence stood tall once more, but its confidence quickly shuddered and ran away. The massive wall they had just passed under collapsed with a deafening boom, a small tidal wave, and enough dust in the air to choke a goblin. The ceiling several hundred yards back collapsed as well, completely burying their stalker and dashing any hope of returning to the surface via the way they came. Time, of course, got confused and slowed the event down to a crawl despite it actually happening in the blink of an eye.

The Aps' dying roar, along with water dyeing blood, filtered up from the bottom of the rubble-filled pool and then gurgled into calm. That meant only one thing: it, like its hopes for a quick lunch, had been crushed.

"What was this about the War of the Magi not knockin' this down?" Sabin said with a cough as he waved dust from his face.

"Shut up, Figaro." While Terra couldn't see it, she could imagine the glare in Celes' eyes.

He continued, "Still, squished to death at the bottom of a shit sundae. What a way to go."

"The topping's not much better," Celes said after a scoff. "Slapping whipped cream on a pile of shit doesn't make it any more appealing." She paused and adopted a thoughtful expression. "The nuts don't help either."

Locke snorted. "Are we talking about Vector or an actual crap sundae?"

Celes rose to her feet with a shrug. "Both?"

Terra sighed and buried her face in her hands. The conversation only succeeded in reminding her of what they had been swimming around in. She really hoped that wherever they ended up allowed time for a much-needed bath.

The evening air felt good. It was that perfect temperature where it was still warm from baking in the sun's light all day but was no longer hot enough for the chocobos to lay freshly hard-boiled eggs. The shadows now were long and gangly due to the aforementioned sun hanging low in the orange western sky.

In fact, because of Crono's location on a nearby dune, his victory pose looked like some sort of spiky shadow monster gearing for an attack. Marle rushed to him, as well as she could on shifting sands, and tackled him down the small hill. Giggling and muted squealing traveled along the floor of the desert, giving any listener, willing or unwilling, a clear indication of what was transpiring just out of sight.

Edgar chuckled at Marle's brazen disregard for self-control before inhaling more of the sweet cherry of his pipe. As much as he wanted to remind her of her status as a noble and how she should act, he couldn't do so. Everybody celebrated victories differently. She partook in public displays of affection with her consort; he smoked his pipe and thought of beautiful women. Besides, he was on a balcony several feet up and didn't feel like shouting over their rabble to be heard.

"The nation of Figaro has impressed me once again." Edgar rolled his gaze to Ramuh, who had appeared next to him seemingly from nowhere. Like magic, the elderly gent procured his own pipe and satchel of tobacco from the unknown dark recesses of his robes. He packed his pipe and promptly lit it with a miniature bolt of lightning from his fingertip. After a few puffs to get it going, Ramuh continued, "I have to admit, I was a bit worried when that Zombor gave chase."

"You, worry?" Edgar laughed. "As I said when we made it back to the castle, and I shall say again, ''Twas nothing we could not handle.' Figaro is a nation of science and with that science, we shall prevail."

Ramuh let loose a quite loud harrumph. "If I remember correctly, you had run through those underground corridors like someone with brown pants."

Edgar waggled a finger as he took a long draw from his pipe. "Semantics, my friend," he said. "However, it is a good thing my head engineer can work some magic."

"Ah, yes. This curious 'magic' that isn't magic. Her majesty Frigg was quite taken in by the show, I might add." Ramuh then mumbled almost as an after-thought, "As was I."

The battle against the ancient Nidavell army and its Zombor brute, which was what Ramuh referred to, had been ridiculously easy. In fact, by the time the Royal Figaro Army arrived on the scene the fight had been long over. Hell, even Figaro's esper guests, Ramuh and the recovering Queen Frigg, had remained inside the castle the entire time and for good reason. Not only was she still recovering from a thousand years of being stoned out of her mind, but, really, who needed magic when Figaro fought in the name of science?

And science was where an individual like Figaro's head engineer, Lucca Ashtear, shined brightly. A mousey sort of young woman, most people who met her for the first time assumed that she'd be the super-intelligent, shy and reserved type. She was intelligent, yes, but she had a matching arrogance and a narcissistic streak about her that rivaled most Vectorian leaders.^[2]

The moment Edgar and his group had returned to the castle from their trip below the sands, she had quickly gone to work creating a slew of new 'magical' weapons that won them the battle in record time, only there really had been no magic involved.

Crono's new Bolt Blade allowed him to attack with lightning; in truth, it was just a piezoelectric trigger built into the hilt that discharged enough electricity into the blade to give a good shock. To the casual observer, Marle had commanded the power of ice, but in reality, her crossbow bolts had been engineered to explode on contact and freeze her enemies with a spray of super-cold liquid nitrogen. Lucca herself had joined the fray with fire, though she had used a simple air-pellet gun and a bandolier stuffed to the brim with fiery napalm grenades.

Edgar, on the other hand, had been given something a little bit different; something to aid his mastery of the spear. At first glance, they had appeared to be a normal set of boots, but in action were something out of a fairy tale. Hydraulic springs built into the souls had launched him high into the air, very much like the air or gravity magic-assisted dragoons of the War of the Magi. The landing was a bit rough, his knees were still killing him, but the added force behind the blow was so intoxicating. Dragoon Boots were the bee's knees, as the kids would say these days.

"So, she had watched from the infirmary, had she?" Edgar laughed. "I would be more than eager to give her majesty a demonstration."

"I would very much like to take part in this 'demonstration'. Ya?"

The voice that came from behind sent eerie chills down to Edgar's feet. Was this the voice of Frigg Asgard? If it was, she sounded like Celes if Celes had some sort of stereotypical accent where "w's" were pronounced as "v's" and "th" sounds came out as a "z". It was a strange verbal construction that left her sounding as if she were angrily speaking with a numbed tongue. Never before had he heard anything quite like it.

By the time Edgar had turned to visually inspect the newcomer, Ramuh had fallen to a knee, most likely in a show of fealty. In the doorway stood the long-lost Queen of Asgard and the Espers, Frigg Asgard the Beautiful. Gone was the royal dress they had found her in, only to be replaced with the green tunic and brown trousers of the Royal Figaro Rangers. How odd. Why had the Chancellor given her those? Her waist-long blonde hair, so blonde it was practically white, was pulled back in a practical ponytail, most likely to ease her use of the weapons strapped to her back, a spear and bow respectively. Besides the difference in hair, the color of her eyes contrasted with Celes' as well, a leafy verdant that reminisced of a thick forest instead of an icy blue that chilled one to the bone.

"Ramuh," she said softly. "Bitte rise. Please. Mein kingdom has long disappeared to the sands of time. You've seen it, ya? I am no longer worthy of such devotion. Frigg the Queen is no more."

"I cannot do that," Ramuh said with a low rumble. "The kingdom of Asgard may no longer exist as we knew it in this world, but you are still my queen and I am still your faithful subject."

"Onkel Weißer Bart, bitte." Frigg knelt before Ramuh before enveloping him in a hug. "I have never once thought of you as a subject. Please, don't demean yourself."

This scene truly was something disturbing, yet exciting, to behold. Edgar kept expecting the type of reactions that Celes would give when she didn't get her way, usually something involving mild violence and oodles of swearing, but they never came. In fact, in this initial meeting, Frigg seemed different from the picture that Ramuh had initially painted of her. Perhaps her true, more vindictive colors would show given time.

She smiled slyly at Edgar from the corner of her eye. "As for you, Herr Figaro, I propose a test of mettle should you wish for me to join your ranks as Ramuh has."

A test? Join his ranks? Did that mean the Returners? If that was the case, then Ramuh must have filled her in on the current state of the world. How fascinating! That didn't take long! Edgar half expected only pleading and groveling would do the trick.

He swapped his pipe from one side of his mouth to the other, all the while keeping his hands at his side and his expression still. He said, "Miss Asgard, I do not recall suggesting such a beautiful damsel join anything as dangerous as the Returners, especially since this is our first meeting. However, I will accept any assistance that happens my way, and if a test of 'mettle' is what it takes, then so be it." He bowed before giving her a wink. "Might I suggest my quarters as the battlefield? We shan't need any bulky armor there."

A blur happened next and left Edgar clues to work out what had exactly transpired. The first clue was the explosion of pain in his groin that sent him sagging to the floor like a half-filled sack of sand. The second clue came from Frigg herself, who now displayed a Celes-like fueled countenance and had her spear extended, blunt end forward, in his direction and at just the right height where the Royal Figaro Treasure had spatially been before the collapse.

Seriously, the throbbing sting was so bad that it felt like something had freaking ruptured!

"Sheiße Perverser," Frigg muttered before sharply turning and storming off. "Gott im Himmel."

Ramuh filled the desert with the rolling thunder of his laughter. "I warned you that Frigg does not take lightly to perversion, especially perversion involving her." He was so amused that he had to use his staff to keep upright. "And here I thought what they said about you and ladyfolk were unjust rumors."

Edgar groaned as he laid perfectly still in the sea of flashing stars with the hope that his smarting reproductive organs would stop crying out in agony. "Keep laughing it up, old man," he said in a breathy falsetto. "My intention was a game of chess."

More chuckling transpired. That bastard was actually enjoying this. "Perhaps you should have opened with that."

Yes, he should have, indeed. At least Celes had never used physical violence against the Royal Figaro Treasure. A hard lesson learned for next time—Frigg Asgard may look like Celes but like Celes she wasn't. If anything, Frigg Asgard was much more dangerous to any man who admired the female form.

^[1] "Ambitious Revival!," a particularly interesting epic about a metal marionette boy with a strong sense of justice and his battle to save the seas from a tyrannical, trident-wielding mermaid and her schools of goldfishy henchman.^[return]

^[2] Lucca called herself 'Lucca the Great.' However, those who had tried to get into her short-shorts had a different name for her, 'Lucca the Hand-Grenade,' because her temper could blow at any moment, for any reason, and without any regard for her surroundings. Like most of the weapons she designed, it was the shrapnel that did the most damage, not the initial explosion. Otherwise, she was actually a very nice person.^[return]

Chapter Text

Midgard…

Midgard never changed. This was something that one came to expect from a city that was older than dirt. Celes shouldn't have been surprised when she had popped her head out of that manhole and had seen that their dimly red-lit, run-down surroundings hadn't changed since her last patrol as a cadet. Maybe she hadn't thought that the city would follow through with the threat. Still, it was something that just was, an unwritten rule of the world, much like the changing of the seasons, the sky being blue, and a falling cat always landing on its feet.

Midgard never changed. The Silius plate still hid the sky like the successful plot to block the sun devised by a super-rich villain. Virgil Boye's obnoxious and headache-inducing red lights still, after hundreds of years, 'illuminated' the city, bathing everything in shadows and dark crimson to give it that seedy, anything-criminal-goes look. Homes and buildings were still piles of junk, and quite the art student's wet abstract dream.

Midgard never changed. This was comforting, frustrating, nostalgic; it reminded Celes of being a proud cadet again, walking the beat with mentors and full-fledged soldiers, each and every one of them 'charged' with protecting the people. It had been difficult to adjust to the red lights and dark shadows even back then, but it had still been a precious time of beating up dickheads and protecting the innocent. The cynical present, however, exposed that nostalgic rose for what it was. They hadn't been defending the people; they had been keeping them in line and shutting down dissenters deemed dangerous to the Imperial Way. While Celes still had a penchant for beating up dickheads and protecting the innocent, her pride in doing the Empire's bidding had gone the way of the white chocobo—dead, buried, and fossilized.

Midgar never changed. It was Celes who had changed. Whether this was a good or bad thing was entirely up for debate, though this certainly wasn't the time to discuss said change's future ramifications.

Celes pulled herself up out of the manhole and looked towards the sky so metal. "I'd forgotten how depressing it is under the plate," she said. It was so obnoxious that the locals referred to it by a variety of names – '&^#$# pizza,'^[1] 'floating tortilla,' and— "Fucking pie in the sky can suck my dick."

Sabin, who was amidst climbing out of the sewers, chuckled. "You have a dick?"

Celes snorted and sent him a glare. "A metaphorical one that I'm gonna beat you with if you don't get serious, mate."

"That's pretty big if you can use it as a weapon."

Terra formed a heart with her hands over her chest and winked in Sabin's direction as if to say, 'That's why I love her.' This prompted him to laugh and Locke to roll her eyes with a smirk.

Oh, Terra. How so very cute…and how so very awkward. It was going to be hard to look her travel companions in the eyes after that.

"I bet it's big, purple, and can take out large swaths of enemies in a single mighty blow," Locke said.

Sabin laughed a loud, boisterous laugh. "Ten gil says she calls it 'The Penetrator'."

Celes sighed and tried smoothing out the cone of hair sticking up and out over her forehead. She wasn't interested in this teasing conversation (Besides, she had named it 'Cecil', dammit.), and instead chose to worry about the sopping, stinking disaster on her head. Damn dirty water was wreaking havoc with it. Short of a shower, there wasn't much she could do at this point. They all looked – smelled – a bit worse for wear—wet hair, soaked clothing, covered in muck. She could feel the stench radiating off them, and feeling something usually smelled was never a good thing.

They had come up out of the sewers in a park or playground that, luckily for them, had been abandoned. The tarnish of time hadn't been too kind, what with the half-collapsed slide, the broken chains on half the swings, and an ancient moogle statue/tetherball thing that looked like someone had taken a lead pipe to its face. Because of the crimson light in the metallic sky, hidden rust undoubtedly corrupted everything steel and iron. This type of illumination hid most details from sight unless one braved a stress headache and squinted really, really hard. How children would have anything resembling fun here was anyone's guess.

Another look around confirmed the area was indeed deserted of life; the fact that it was a park for children sent Celes' mood sailing into a melancholy sea. Of course, to begin with, one also had to wonder why there was sewer access in the middle of a children's park. Of all places, why here? Someone's idea of a sick joke? Some kind of hidden agenda? It seemed like a great place to dump a body. However, she had to admit that she had no right to complain. They had popped up in an area she recognized: the outskirts of Wall Market.

"Where do we go from here?" Locke said.

"I'm sure all the usual methods of getting to the top will be heavy with security and soldiers, so we'll have to improvise, hey." Celes motioned for the group to follow her down a nearby junk-filled alleyway. "The Wall's the closest village to our location," she said. "Hopefully, we can find a way to the upper plate there."

Locke raised an eyebrow. "The Wall?"

"It's what the locals call this area. It's short for Wall Market."

"Is it some kind of red-light district?"

Celes laughed as she rounded the corner. "The whole of Midgard is basically Vector's red-light district, mate, so kinda hard not to. Just be careful of human traffickers and pimps, though. They love sheilas here, especially sheilas like us who smell like they've been dragged through a sewer."

Sabin scoffed. "Seriously?"

"Seriously, mate. One of our squadmates in academy always came back at night smelling like piss and humiliation. Turned out her boyfriend had a thing for treating sheilas like a toilet, and, needless to say, she enjoyed being treated like one."

"Baldur's Gate." From his tone, Celes imagined Sabin scrunching up his nose as he spoke.

"Right? I mean, if that's what it takes for two people to get off, then great. No judging here, I just wanted her to take a god damn shower afterward."

Locke coughed, most likely to gain Celes' attention. "So, this place you're taking us to—it's a brothel, isn't it?"

"Why the bloody hell is that your first assumption?"

"You just said that we're in a red-light district filled to the brim with human traffickers, and you just told a story about some odd sex fetish. Tell me I'm wrong."

"Well... You're…kinda right?" Celes looked behind with a sheepish grin, all the while pinching a bit of air between her finger and thumb to accentuate her meaning. "Like I said, we're going to a village…" She paused to choose her words carefully. "…that just so happens to have a brothel, er, many brothels. Brothels that have showers, I might add."

"I almost wonder how you're familiar with places like that," Locke said with a shake of her head. She didn't seem to be too keen on the idea. Granted, none of them did. "Dude, you work here part-time or something?" Terra adopted an expression of puzzled betrayal while Sabin looked like he couldn't decide between laughing and being outright concerned.

"Oi," Celes snapped. "You try finding us a way up to the Silius Sector, then." She didn't want to take them to the one place in Vector where anything could happen. What choice did she have, though? They needed a semi-friendly place for information, and Another Brothel in the Wall^[2] was the only hope they had. During her cadet days, the whispers of the place being a Returner safe-haven had run rampant through the Imperial military. Of course, it also hadn't helped that the proprietor had written a catchy and popular song of anti-establishment. Now, whether he was still running the show was another story.

Sabin spoke up. "How do we know they won't just turn us over to the Empire?"

Yup. That look of amusement he wore was not reflective of what he was thinking. Of course, all concerns regarding the Empire were valid, much like the dead-end they had just stumbled upon. The path was blocked by a pile of rusted out corrugated metal sheets with no clear, straightforward way around.

"There isn't much love for the Empire or Emperor Gestahl down here, hey," Celes said as she bent down to move the topmost sheet out of the way and lean it onto a nearby wall.

Sabin grabbed the next one on the pile and moved it to the opposite side. "But if that's the case, then where the hell does the Empire get all of its military personnel from?"

"Drafting," Celes said as she gingerly handled another metal sheet. The last thing she needed at the moment was a bout of tetanus. "The people down here don't have a bloody choice, especially when Gestahl controls nearly all of the money in the place. You want more than bread to eat? You join the military for food. You an orphan with nowhere to go? You join the military to have somewhere to fit in. You want a job that actually pays? You join the bloody military, even if you hate the friggin' cunts you're defending."

"That doesn't really sound like a very good lifestyle," Locke said.

Celes nodded. "It's funny," she said. "I always thought, 'This is the best way of life. Who are these bloody Returners to say that my way of life is wrong?' But now, the longer I'm separated from it, the more I despise it. It was only the best way of life because it was the only way of life I knew." She felt Terra's gentle touch on the back of her arm, telling her that either Terra was in agreeance or sympathized. Based on Terra's history, though, Celes suspected it was both.

"It's a bit like that, isn't it?" Locke said. "It's hard to see the big picture from a single perspective when you don't even know that other perspectives exist."

Once the path was clear, they continued on as Celes gave a brief explanation of Vector and some of its odd quirks. The city-state itself was easily the size of all Figaro Desert, if not larger, and comprised of two major sections, Silius on the top and Midgard on the bottom. However, Silius and Midgard were broken down even further into different named sections or villages, like slices of a pie. In Silius, the sector breakdown didn't affect anyone save for the postal service. In Midgard, though, each sector was partitioned off by walls that spanned from the ground up to the bottom of the plate with the only way to travel between them being by train. Anyone who didn't have the proper identification or enough money for a ticket had to travel by foot in the tunnels and risk painting the rails with their innards if they were unlucky enough.

The lighting system, which everyone agreed was the absolute worst, had been installed by the ancient Magineer Virgil Boye not long after completing the Silius plate. Supposedly, he had felt sorry for those living underground and wanted to bring them light. Of course, the ruling body at the time demanded he use red lamps, only because they were cheaper to manufacture and less expensive to run than your standard run-of-the-mill magi-light bulb. Because of this, Midgard became a literal red-light district where just about anything taboo could happen in plain view, mainly because no one could see anything, taboo or not, happen right under their noses.

The walk to The Wall was about as uneventful as watching paint dry slowly. In the distance, trains ran like clockwork ferrying people from one location to another while the dull hum of far off machinery filled in the gaps. Debris and junk littered the area as if a bomb had gone off, and no one had the wherewithal to clean it up. Some ingenious people had arranged the junk piles in such ways they could use them as makeshift houses. Some shops also used this method, with most having cloth or cardboard signs hanging above the doors to advertise what they were, despite the awful lighting making it hard to read the lettering. To combat the visual impairment, some businesses employed scantily clad female barkers to grab the attentions of passersby with exposed jiggly breasts, gyrating hips covered with a strip of floss, and orgasmic cries of 'We've got what you want, Master!'

"Talk about a culture shock," Sabin said under his breath. "Aside from Celes, I don't think I'd ever seen so much bouncing before in my life."

"Oi!"

"Yeah. And everyone looks so sickly and…" Locke paused as if searching for the right word. "…mentally destroyed."

To a Northerner, seeing Midgard would have been a shock as degradation to this extreme just didn't occur outside of Vector, at least out in the open that anyone was aware. To Celes, it was a means to survive in a city that didn't care, even if the payoff was horribly offset by the amount of dignity lost. On the other hand, Terra had always hated coming to The Wall for this very reason, which, at the time, had been a head-scratcher. Of course, now knowing Terra's history within the Empire certainly explained the avulsion.

As they passed a shop advertised as Diner Korean Barbecue by its scantily-clad marketing department, a glowing box in its window caught Locke's attention. To a Northerner, it would have looked like a radio—wooden frame, metal dials, a large fabric mesh slot that hid the speaker—only much larger, and with a glowing glass panel in the center. Celes scoffed upon recognizing the tiny people on the screen and the ridiculousness that entailed. It was Kefka and Emperor Gestahl with another propaganda filled power hour.

…Hooray.

"Hey, Celes. What the hell is this?" Locke had stopped in her tracks to press her face up against the window, surprise and wonderment sparkling in her eyes. An equally amused Sabin stood just behind her, while Terra glared at the screen with enough hatred to set the thing ablaze without the aid of magic or kerosene.

Celes sighed and rolled her eyes. "MTV," she said with an uncaring indifference that matched their surroundings. They didn't have the time to sit here in public and ogle state propaganda at its worst. Still, it was a relatively new technology that even Figaro, despite its advancements, had nothing remotely similar. "Short for MagiTek Vision. It's like radio, but with moving pictures. The Empire broadcasts it throughout the city using magic."

Both Locke and Sabin looked at each other with glee before pressing their faces even closer to the window. The two of them were like kids in a candy store. "Imagine if Figaro had something like this!" Sabin said.

"Don't get too excited, mate," Celes said as she folded her arms across her chest. "The entertainment line-up's not as good as it used to be. In the early days, it was strictly factual news and music, like operas and concerts. Now it's brain-dead nationalist crap like 16 and Imperial, Swearing Servitude on the Silius Plate, Keeping Up with Kefka, and Dancing with The Emperor. Don't even get me started on the news; propaganda and false narratives abound that would make even Pruert Durmoch's Foxhound News proud."

Locke snorted and looked up. "I'm guessing I don't want to know," she said flatly.

Celes kept a chuckle of amusement to herself. "Not if you like having a working brain," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Gotta keep the populace dumb, placated, and angry somehow, hey." She was about to urge them to continue walking, but a voice from the MTV froze her solid and sent an icy chill creeping down her spine. She wanted to look at the screen, but the shaken expressions from the other three told her everything she needed to know. She, and by proxy they, knew that contralto, and she, in particular, knew it well.

"My fellow Vectorians, I stand before you today to assure you that despite the Returners' best efforts, I still command the Imperial Army," the voice said. "I still fight their threat to our way of life. You will hear rumors and outright lies about my untimely demise or defection. Do not believe any of it, hey. It is fake bloody news fabricated by the Figarian media machine to sow discord and doubt amongst us."

Celes managed to overcome the gargantuan pit that had formed in her stomach and stared right into the tiny icy eyes of the tiny woman on the monochrome screen. However, that pit grew more massive behind her and developed a gravitational pull. To be turned inside out from one's core, it was a very…unpleasant feeling.

"In these uncertain and unprecedented times, we must remain steadfast and strong. Only by doing so will we defeat those who threaten our way of life and bring peace and prosperity to, not only us, but the entire world. I implore you, any able-bodied person – man, woman, or child – to dedicate your services to this cause. Our world, as we know it, is at stake."

Those scary-looking, dead eyes…

"For the glory of the Empire!"

…they were her own.

Once again, as it did every morning, the sun cast its golden glow across the already golden landscape of the desert. The air was already hot, the ground was dry, and the air was full of the sound—mostly of warking chocobos, as it usually was—leading one to believe that this morning was a run-of-the-mill morning that occurred every single day. Days came and days went with nights always falling in between. This was an unwritten joint rule of the Universe and Time, with Change unlikely to ever intervene.

Edgar, however, knew that this morning was not average. Firstly, he had spotted something strange outside his window—a platinum-haired woman watching the sunrise from atop a dune. Secondly, something had urged him to follow suit. The why, he did not know as this woman was not anyone he was intimately familiar with, despite her familiar appearance. Perhaps, it was a desire to rectify that lack of knowledge. Perhaps, it was the similarity of her appearance to that of Celes. Or perhaps it was an attraction to said appearance. Maybe it was all of the above. As fascinated as he was with the very lovely and very off-limits Celes, the woman before him did have a subtly different look. She was much more refined, regal, and of a slender build, despite having some 'assets' that would, undoubtedly, destroy that classification.

Regardless of the why he was here, he was here now, standing at the bottom of the dune and staring speechless up at Frigg Asgard. Ultimately, what does one say to someone a thousand years removed from everything they ever knew? Hell, what does the current ruler of the land say to an ancient predecessor? Was she, in fact, a long-lost ancestor to the Figaro family? Had the Figaro family served the Asgard family during their reign? There were so many questions to ask, yet Edgar couldn't even muster a proper 'good morning.' The fact that the golden rays of the sun appeared to, from his position, surround her like a heavenly halo did not go unobserved and tied his tongue further.

Ha! There was a first!

Frigg, on the other hand, noticed his presence and greeted him with a stiff prim and proper wave. "Guten Morgen, König Figaro," she said in the Esper's incomprehensible, dead language. "Wie geht es dir?" The look of confusion he wore must have been extravagant as she quickly adopted an expression of embarrassment. "Mein apologies. I am still adjusting to this renewed life you have gifted me."

"Please, call me Edgar." Edgar shrugged and flashed his friendly trademark grin. "And 'tis not something I should expect someone to fully embrace in mere days. Do not fret. You have Ramuh and myself to aid you." He laughed. "Also, 'twas not me who returned you from stone. I merely led the expedition."

"Ah, this is true, ya?" Frigg grinned wildly before sliding down the dune in a cloud of sand. She stopped just shy of smashing into Edgar and immediately leaned forward to bend his personal space without breaking it completely. This, of course, caused him to lean back in surprise and nearly tumble to the ground. This was also when Edgar had noticed two more differences to Celes; Frigg had a much narrower, leaner face coupled with kinder, more inviting eyes. The resemblance, though, was still wildly uncanny. She continued, "Still, I truly must thank you, ya? For if you had not decided to venture into the castle, I would be forever alone and still reliving the stupid decisions I made that ultimately destroyed mein kingdom."

Despite the conversation turning slightly sour, Frigg continued smiling and straightened up, which allowed Edgar to do the same. There was a hint of sadness behind that front, which gave away her internal struggle; she was a leader who felt that she had failed despite the apparent win. He nearly took her hand to give her some comfort but stopped short with the memory of her onslaught the evening before. He certainly did not want to feel that again; the phantom pain at the mere thought was enough. "Surely, your decisions were not all that immoral," he said. "From what our scholars have been able to piece together, from information passed down over the many generations along with the few records we found in your castle, it was your actions that brought an end to the War of the Magi and ushered in the thousand years of peace that followed."

"Mein kingdom is no more," Frigg said before turning away to stare off into the desert, "and Ramuh informs me the war for magic still rages on, just as it did all that time ago. Many innocents died after I sealed myself in the castle, Espers and humans alike." It seemed like she was trying to hide something that was all too prevalent in her voice. Was it shame?

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Ramuh has intrigued me with a tale of espers and humans creating another universe to escape the ravages of war."

"But surely not everyone escaped. Human sympathizers would have been killed on sight, and espers would have been drained of their…" Frigg paused, almost as if she did not want to utter the next word. When she finally did, it was whispered and barely audible. "…Mako."

"I am sure you did everything you could have possibly done."

"I did nothing for them. I ran away. I was not there to protect them, like a…like a—" She clenched her fists and turned back towards Edgar, her frustrated tears on full display for him to see. "—like a coward! I'm surprised your stories don't know me as Queen Frigg the Spineless!"

Edgar raised a quizzical eyebrow and thought back to any information he had read regarding the woman before him. Nothing negative came to mind. Although, more accurately, there hadn't been much information about her in general until Sabin, Locke, Celes, and Terra had stumbled upon it. "Why would anyone call you that?"

"Mein husband gave his life to protect me and those of us in the city!" she said before angrily beating her chest with a fist. "What did I do? I turned myself to stone to protect myself and only myself! Such a name is befitting a coward, eine feige Königin!"

Of course, Edgar had no idea what a 'figah kurnigin' was, though he could take a wild guess. Frigg obviously wasn't calling herself the greatest queen ever. Although, if their situations had been reversed, would he react the same way? Would he be level-headed and logical? Or emotional and on edge? "Think of it like this," he said as he absentmindedly tapped his chin, "imagine what would have happened to the Asgardians if you had been captured by…Nidavell, was it? Your magic would have been turned against your own people. I am sure that would have dealt a much more devastating blow than just the magic itself. Morale can be a very compelling weapon, especially in times of war."

"I know that! But…it still does not change my crime! It still does not change that I hid myself away while those who didn't, couldn't escape were slaughtered."

"I would not be so sure of that. You see, I have a theory… Those who were left triumphed over Nidavell and, with the spirit of Asgard in their hearts, founded a new nation—one that followed her basic principles. Figaro is said to have been founded around that time; however, the exact circumstances of our establishment have been lost to the shifting sands." Edgar lit up his biggest exaggerated grin and waggled a finger to make Frigg turn her frown upside down. "So, worry not, my dear! Your people lived on and still to this day fight for peace and equality!"

"I want to believe it is true, but…" Frigg sighed and shrugged her shoulders before, again, turning to look off toward the emptiness of the desert. "I am an out of place relic from the past. How will I ever know for certain?"

Edgar nearly enveloped her in a hug, just as his mother would have done for him if he had been in a similar frame of mind, just as he had done for Sabin when their father had passed on. Instead, thinking of the safety of his future children, he refrained and said, "Even in the darkest of hours, a small sliver of faith can bring us hope. All you need do is believe with a smile."

"Perhaps you're right." Frigg took one of Edgar's hands in her own and stared him dead in the eye, as if she would find her answers through the windows to his soul. "What else is there for me to do? I have no home, no discernable family, no one of mein own kind save for Onkel Weißer Bart. But where…" One could feel the pain and suffocation just from that pause alone. "Where do I go from here?"

Edgar wanted to respond but couldn't. For the first time in a long while, he honestly didn't know what to say. Frigg's situation was not one that he personally had any equivalent experience with, save Celes and her banishment from the Empire. All he could offer were a sympathetic ear and a place to call home. It was all but forgotten when she unexpectedly fell to a knee and bowed her head. He knew that pose; it was one that he had banned in Figaro save for formal settings.

"Bitte, mein König!" Frigg said with a shaky, cracking, desperate voice. "Please allow me to serve you! I have trained in the arts of the bow and spear, just as mein father did in his youth! I command the magics of water, wind, and ice; gifts from mein Mutter! Please! Fighting is all I know in this world. Fighting is all I can do!"

Edgar took a step back, mostly in surprise. To see someone described as strong and influential on their knees and groveling was a tad unexpected and a just a bit unnerving. There were even pockmarks in the sand from tears. "Please, stand," he said.

If Frigg heard him, she made no indication. She remained kneeling, one arm resting on her knee to hide her buried face while her other hand gripped the quiver of arrows at her hip so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. This had to stop, not only because it was demeaning to the both of them, but because it was heartbreaking to see someone on their knees who, at one time, commanded respect from espers and humans alike.

Rather than forcing her to stand and possibly causing an incident, Edgar closed the gap between them and knelt before her. He did, however, encourage her to look at him by way of a finger on her chin. "Please, do not ever kneel before me as if I am above you," he said. "I do not expect or deserve it from any Figarian, nor will I ever. And I certainly do not expect nor deserve the Queen of ancient Asgard to kneel or grovel at my feet. I may be King of Figaro, but I am still just a man, and no different than anyone else. However, if you wish to join our fight against the Empire, I will graciously accept your assistance. If you merely wish for a place to call home, you may have that as well. The choice is yours to make."

Frigg silently stared at him in response for a long moment, not unlike a stunned chocobo, with her green eyes locked onto his and never faltering away. Her lips pursed a few times in anticipation of a verbal reply, but they ultimately decided to curve upwards at the corners. "You pass the test, Herr Figaro," she said in a half-teasing manner as she stood. "Now I know why your castle staff speaks highly of you."

Edgar, surprised by the sudden change in demeanor, warily eyed the hand offered to help him up before accepting it. "What does my staff have to do with this conversation?"

"A man in your position can be judged on two things: how well they treat their servants and how long they let someone kneel at their feet."

That sly woman! Had their entire conversation been a test of his character? Or had her emotional breakdown been true, and she was only now trying to save face? "Is that so?" Edgar said with a cautiously raised eyebrow. "Consequently, which part of all that was a test and which part was a woman distressed?"

Frigg leaned forward, yet again bending Edgar's personal space without breaking it. This time, though, she whispered softly into his ear, "Whichever you believe, with a smile." Her sly grin grew in size and brightness before she turned to walk back to the castle. She stopped after a few steps to send him a wink and a lazy wave of farewell. "See you at breakfast, ya?"

Edgar, dumbfounded by everything that had transpired, honestly had no idea what to think or how to respond. Perhaps, no action at this point was the best action. Frigg had made it clear that every interaction with her would be tested, so proceeding with caution would, no doubt, be necessary. This was, of course, assuming that she hadn't been trying to save face, which, of course, could be a test unto itself. All he could do was stand in place and watch as she disappeared through a doorway.

What an interesting encounter.

Now driven by a dreadful feeling of treading on the edge, Celes drove the group toward their destination. They kept walking, taking care to avoid crowds and all the while guided by that old familiar stinging sight of a massive neon honeybee, the mascot of the Honeybee Inn, Another Brothel in the Wall. The last thing they needed down here was to get separated, lost, and, heaven help them, recognized. With half their group being former Imperial soldiers, and distinguishable ones at that, it was only a matter of time before that happened.

At some point, she had taken Terra's hand in her own, not only to keep her close but also to give her a reassuring squeeze at random intervals. However, one could argue that it was for her own peace of mind than for anyone else's. Any one of them could be abducted and turned into unwilling sex slaves. More disturbing still had been the fact that Celes had seen her own face on the MTV and heard her own voice spewing Imperial propaganda, just like the old days.

Had they discovered Maria and promptly hired her to steer their fake narrative? Had they hired some other look- and sound-alike? Had they found a way, unbeknownst to her, to record her speeches of the past, alter them, and broadcast them once more? It was unlikely as the technology just wasn't there, as far as she knew. But maybe it had been all along, in secret. That was the thing with the Empire, one never really knew what went on behind closed doors, especially if one was making things happen behind those doors.

Her stomach knotted itself the moment they set foot into the concrete courtyard; there was a crowd of sleazy-looking middle-aged men hanging around the entrance. There was only one place in Wall Market where sleazy-looking middle-aged men congregated outside front doors—Another Brothel in the Wall. Celes presumed that they were waiting for their chance to enter a temporary bliss and ejaculate their stresses and concerns away.

"Mate!" said one man. "Should I go or not? God dammit! I get so mental at times like this! I'm hopeless!"

Said another, "Mate, I know, right? Things just aren't working out. Between my dwindling pay and my old lady finding out about her, she just don't cut it anymore. But, god damn, how I'd love Madam Quistis to whip me just one more time!"

As usual, Celes took point and shoved her way through with Terra and Locke sandwiched between her and Sabin. Because three-quarters of their group were comprised of women, she readied herself for a grope, a pinch, or slung 'snot'. Thankfully, the stench of the sewers wafting off them seemed to keep the molesting at bay.

"Bloody hell, baby!" said the one man. "You a new girl here? God damn, I can't wait to see you shake those on the stage!"

Or maybe not.

The other man whistled and reached for Celes as she bulldozed past. "How 'bout you give us a sneak peek?" he said.

Instinctively, Celes' dominant hand went straight to the hilt of her blade while ice formed around her other. She said with a frosty growl, "How about you dickheads fuck off before I chop 'em off?"

The man reaching for her stopped short of grabbing her arm and rethought the situation. He eyed the sword on her back as if noticing it for the first time. He then looked to the rest of the group and, after seeing their weapons (or muscles), swallowed hard. "On second thought," he said, "between our differences and my pay, I don't think this'll cut it." After he made haste to disappear into the crowd, his friend ran off just as quickly, but not before choking out an apology.

Celes stopped the group just outside the entrance. Like the men surrounding them, she didn't want to go in either. Unlike these guys, who were just looking for a chance at fleeting happiness, she didn't have a choice. Hopefully, she could pull a few favors here and, hopefully, she didn't have to do anything demeaning in the process. After a quick look at Terra's, Locke's, and Sabin's tired and concerned expressions, she sighed and pushed the double doors open. She never thought she'd wish for this, but fingers crossed Another Brothel in the Wall was still a safe place for Returners.

Terra hated this place. It stank of abuse and degradation. Up on the well-waxed stage, fully naked young men and women sang show tunes (badly) and danced around in strange, suggestive ways—almost like they were having full-body convulsions. Barely clothed^[3] men and women weaved in and out of the crowd with trays of drinks a variety of color and highly chanced to be of a cheap, backyard brew. Music gyrated gratingly and lights strobed and blinded in a hazy, seizure-inducing sort of way. Not one of the staff at Another Brothel in the Wall looked like they wanted to be there; their uncaring, faraway eyes were a dead giveaway.

While the reminder of Terra's own abusive past was quite raw, it was at least offset by her appreciation of the naked human condition. Well, slightly. Both the male and female dangly, bouncy bits were more of a distraction, really. She had to keep telling herself that there just wasn't anything she could do for any of them, but it was difficult to ignore those empty expressions. It was also really, really hard to ignore bits that jiggled with any sort of movement.

Instead, Terra chose to nurse her dark ale and tried to focus on Locke as she listened to the various conversations around the room and at the bar. Their own conversation was limited to Locke occasionally whispering something under her breath, and Terra opting to remain silent. There wasn't much point in talking when her tongue decided that it wanted to have a stroke before the first word was uttered. Besides, she found it more exhilarating thinking about things she had no control over, like burning a Doman Castle down to the ground as well as the Empire getting a Celes look-a-like to spread their propaganda. Perhaps exhilaration was the wrong word; devastating was more like it.

Still, there wasn't much she could do; one event was in the past, the other was just…odd? It made sense to a degree, lie to the populace, hide the truth, and sway public support in the Empire's favor. But who would agree to pretend to be Celes? Had it been Maria? Her resemblance had been uncanny, much like this woman's. If so, how had she gotten to Vector so quickly, and why would she do such a thing?

Money? No, wait. She already had that. She was a famous Jidoorian socialite, after all.

Fame? She already had that, too. She was a famous actress and singer, after all.

Revenge? But that didn't make sense. They had saved her life en route to Jidoor.

Men? But didn't Locke mention she was a lesbian? Ooh! Women! The Empire promised her a harem of women!

Terra frowned and violently shook her head. She needed another drink to stop the stupid thoughts. And, boy, were they getting stupider as time went on, unless the alcohol was causing the stupid. Deciding that the Empire's MTV shenanigans were something beyond her comprehension, she complied with her initial desire and drank the entire pint before her. She slammed the empty glass to the table with a relieved sigh and a follow-up hiccup.

Locke eyed the empty glass with a frown of stunned silence before asking, "You okay there?"

Terra nodded and mimed to the nearby half-naked serving boy that she needed another drink. If only Another Brothel in the Wall served their booze by the barrel.

The two of them sat at their table in the corner for what felt like several hours. Most of the conversations overheard were nothing more than the average person catcalling or professing their love for a particular dancer or server. It was disturbing, but not as disturbing as watching an inebriated patron lead a fear-filled employee (one obviously new to the job) by the arm to a backroom. It was doubtful they were going for a meaningful conversation. Again, Terra wanted to do something, but, at the same time, she didn't want to blow their cover with a scene. All she could do was hope beyond hope that if they were successful in taking down the Empire, this would all come to an end.

Terra should have forced the issue of going with Celes and Sabin to scout the village for a way out of here. "It's easier to hide in a crowd than it is in the shadows," Locke had said. Throw her cowl into the mix, and the likelihood of being spotted by an Imperial was near zero. Still, that one percent chance of being recognized made her nervous and rightfully so.

A hand clamped down on her shoulder, and a whispered, slurred voice in her ear sent her into a frozen panic. "I been watchin' you for a while," it said, the stench of cheap booze on its breath was enough to cause intoxication to anyone nearby. "Whaddaya say you an' I have a talk in a VIP room?"

Locke slowly rose to her feet and made a show of flashing her twin sheathed daggers in the process. "Hey, man, my friend and I are trying to enjoy a drink together," she said. "Why don't you make like a fly and buzz off?"

The man behind Terra must have lost his balance slightly as she caught a flash of his yellow clothing and ginger mustache out of the corner of her eye. "I ain't in the market to talk to no man." He hiccupped, which sent a blast of semi-digested alcohol right passed Terra's face. How disgusting. "I'm only talkin' to the girl here."

That was a sentiment she did not share. Locke wasn't too impressed with that response either, something she made known by whipping around the table and grabbing the drunkard by his collar. She said with a growl, "You're talking to me, pal, whether you want to or not."

Terra used the confusion to her advantage. She escaped his grip and cowered as far as she could in between the booth and the wall. Upon looking back, before realizing the whole room was staring at the commotion, she quickly recognized the terrorizer. He was one of the Imperials that she had wanted to miss during this excursion – "Cid." The sound of her own voice would have surprised her if she hadn't already been surprised by seeing the man who had caused all of her early childhood traumas; he was the same man who had poked her with needles, injected her with chemicals that had made her ill, and forced her to use her magic until she passed out, Cid Del Norte Marguez.

Locke, staggered by the vocalization, relaxed her grip. "Terra, you know this guy?"

"Know me?" Cid said with a helping of sarcasm. "I bloody well named her." He threw off Locke's grip and, after tottering a bit, attempted to straighten his clothing. Keyword: 'attempt'. He made the creases worse all because of eyes that refused to focus and cartoonishly exaggerated movements.

"Right. Fine," Locke said with a snort. "You know each other. What do you want?"

"I thought I told you I ain't talkin' to no man."

This dialogue loop, made hilarious by the fact that Cid didn’t realize that he was speaking to a woman, was getting them nowhere. With her inability to reliably talk, they'd be here all night or at least until someone lost their temper and threw a punch. Terra gave Locke a look that she hoped gave the impression that she didn't want to deal with this. Honestly, she wanted to dive under the table and crawl to the safety of anywhere but where she was.

Locke nodded as if she understood Terra's intention and gave Cid a glare that would have given anyone pause. "Terra can't talk. So, it looks like you're talking to me regardless, pal."

"But I thought she said my…" Cid leaned against the back of the booth and sighed. "Fine. Fine. Whatever," he said. "Let's go someplace where there aren't so many eyes and ears."

"Hold on, man," Locke said. "What's this about?" Terra nodded her head in agreement rather quickly. She didn't really want to go anywhere with this man if she could help it.

"I was hoping to run into some Returners, but you'll do better. Terra, I have a proposition for you. How would you like a chance at revenge?"

^[1] With '&^#$#' being a curse word so heinous that I dare not print it. I have standards, dammit.^[return]

^[2] The actual name was the Honeybee Inn, though the locals gave it its unofficial name due to the owner, musician Floyd Pink, having written the semi-popular anti-establishment song "Another Brick in the Wall". The fact that he had established yet another brothel in the Wall didn't go unnoticed.^[return]

^[3] It's hard to classify nipple tassels, testicle bras, and "butt floss" as clothing, but I digress. It is technically correct, even if it is the worst possible kind of correct.^[return]