Chapter Text
Darkness stretched endlessly, unbroken and absolute, as far as the eye could see.
See… It understood the word, though the action was new. Something deep inside, an instinct, guided its first use of the sense: to use the two orbs in its skull to observe the light and color swirling around it.
Light… Wisps of energy swirled, floating past aimlessly like threads circling the stone room. Color… The wisps were green. The stone, a faded reddish brown. The illuminating green was joined by yellow-orange as one by one, the torches surrounding the dias flickered to life.
Life. That’s what this experience must be. A word floated to the forefront of its cognition: human. That’s what this form was. Two arms, their color as dusty and warm as the stone. Two legs, that could be folded beneath its square torso and push itself upright. Two eyes, peering around the room to make sense of the place.
Where am I? How did I get here? Questions swirled in its mind, mimicking the flow of the glowing green energy around it. One tendril snaked close enough that it could reach out and run its fingers over its surface-
Purgatory eternal—spurned by the planet forevermore—ultimate salvation is cessation—steeped in our one desire—with bitter prayer-
It recoiled, drawing its hand back from the Lifestream as if burned—not a physical pain, of flames licking flesh, but a spiritual pain, of an overwhelm of emotions far too vast for a single mind to carry. Echoes of voices and memories continued to cascade through its head; when the voices settled, the human knew what it once was.
Black Materia.
Great stone halls stretched into infinity. It gave the Black Materia plenty of space to adjust to its new human form, to practice basic ambulation, to adjust to its cumbersome limbs, and to observe the world around it. Even such a drab, empty space was overwhelming; every detail was new. Distance, speed, perspective were all beyond its understanding, but if it wanted to determine its place here, it had to understand such things.
Some of the stone walls were etched with drawings of figures alongside arcane symbols. The figures depicted were all humanoid, but divided into groups by clothing. One group was clad in loose, flowing hooded robes; the other was clad in stiff armor with dazzling helmets. The Black Materia glanced down at its own form; its dark skin was bare. What group does that put me in, then?
It continued along the hall. The stone building was a maze, with twisting corridors and stairwells that led to nowhere and precarious drops down sideways waterfalls stretching into a glistening green sky. The air smelled like metal and rot, with nary a living thing prowling the halls. The Black Materia shivered, a single word coming to the forefront of its mind.
Death.
Countless souls had returned to the planet here, their remains disintegrating over eons, dissolving into dust that floated in the rays of sunlight. Were the souls those of the armored men or the hooded ones—or both? What were they fighting to gain, and what was sacrificed by those who lost?
The Black Materia pushed open the door ahead, and in the room beyond spotted the first sign of life. A tree sprouted from the floor, its thick trunk the center of a spiral of overlapping staircases, its branches obscuring the light overhead.
The door behind the tree led outside. The Black Materia paused; compared to the cramped halls of the temple, the world ahead was unknowingly vast. The blue sky stretched into infinity, broken only by jagged mountains and leafy forest canopies. A vast staircase stretched below its feet, leading across a foggy chasm to a rotting wooden bridge beckoning to the world beyond.
The Black Materia stepped forward. No sooner had its foot touched the sun-soaked stone than a man materialized beside him, shrouded in glowing red energy.
“You…” The man’s eyes glistened with millenia of untold wisdom. “Are you what we have long sought?”
The Black Materia glanced around; there was no one else in sight, and nothing else of note beside the stone temple.
“Our salvation,” the figure murmured. He pressed a hand to his chest and leaned forward in a polite bow. “I am Gi Nattak. I have journeyed far, against the planet’s wishes, to bring you home.”
Gi Nattak led the Black Materia through caves and tunnels deep within the bowels of the earth. There was no light save for the glowing red spirit energy oozing from the Gi, a sole beacon guiding the Black Materia forward.
“Our flesh is gone, yet our spirits are condemned to linger,” Gi Nattak explained as they walked. “Cast out from the cycle of life and death, into purgatory eternal…”
The Black Materia opened its mouth, shaping its lips, its tongue. Vibrations hummed in its throat. “Ahh… ooh… nnghh…”
“It was our fate to be spurned by the planet forevermore,” Gi Nattak continued. “Thus did we resolve to forge our own path to salvation.”
“Sss… vvv… nnn…”
“Our ultimate salvation is cessation,” Gi Nattak lowered his head, “it is nothingness. Our wish it not to exist, but rather, to no longer exist. There is but one thing that can deliver unto us ultimate salvation—and that is materia.”
“Ma… te… ri… a…” The Black Materia sounded out the word. “Materia…”
Gi Nattak peered over his shoulder, his lips quirking into a small smile beneath his mask. “You have existed for millenia,” he mused, “yet you are like a child taking its first steps. To a soul as withered and aged as this one, such behavior is…” he trailed off without finishing.
“Is…?”
Gi Nattak quirked an eyebrow. “You have much to learn. Come. We are almost home.”
“Welcome… to the Village of the Gi.”
The Black Materia stepped forward, its eyes wide as it observed the environment. Towering, curved pillars of bone stretched up to an inky black sky, flickering with embers rising from torches lighting curving paths.
Humanoid figures hovered in the shadows, their featureless faces turning to follow Gi Nattak and his mysterious new visitor. As the two strode up the path, they amassed a small crowd of lancers and sorcerers, trailing behind in a hesitant, curious mob.
Gi Nattak paused at a clearing high above the village, and gestured for the Black Materia to stand beside him. Then he raised his staff into the air, silencing the murmuring in the crowd.
“My people,” he announced. “Behold the one steeped in our one desire… in the form of man… the Materia of Peace.”
A wave of awed murmuring surged through the gathered specters. Gi Nattak turned from the gathered Gi and smiled down at the Black Materia. “You who are shaped of human flesh… materia no more.” He placed a hand on its bare shoulder. “Henceforth you shall be called Mazaru. The usher of our people into the eternal peace for which we yearn.”
Gi Mazaru lowered his head, the weight of such expectations weighing heavily on his shoulders. Flames erupted, echoing the jubilation of the remaining Gi spirits as they lifted their skeletal hands to the sky in praise. Gi Nattak turned, letting out a triumphant whoop that emboldened the crowd.
What followed was a whirl of revelry and celebration; one lancer draped a heavy fur shawl over Mazaru’s shoulders, while another offered a bowl of seared nuts and wrinkled, dry berries. Mazaru ran his fingers over the shawl, shifting under its weight as he registered the softness of its fur. The nuts were hard and bitter, and Mazaru had to squeeze his jaws shut over each one to crack them apart in his mouth. The berries zinged with sharp flavor, the sensation the polar opposite of the nuts.
From how the Gi were reveling, Mazaru wondered if he should have felt vast, free and calm, the chosen salvation of these people. Instead he felt small, pressed into the ground by the shawl’s weight, suffocated by the heat of the flames and the fervor of the crowd. He gasped, and coughed on the acrid smell and taste of ash on the breeze.
“This is your home now.” Gi Nattak gently guided Mazaru away from the crowd and towards a secluded cave on the edge of the village. “You are free to explore as you wish. Rest, and be not afraid to request anything you may need of us.”
“Mmm.” Mazaru nodded. He turned several words over in his head, wondering which ones to best give shape with his lips and voice. “Thank you… Gi Nattak.”