Chapter Text
She was drifting. There was water on her and in her, flowing out of her stomach like so much bile. Brack and iron and the awful things she had festered within her for millenia, all of it was leaving her now. And it should have been lovely. This exhaustion that consumed her should have been akin to wondrous bliss. But it was not. It was something horrid and quiet and dark. It was the feeling of failure.
She had failed them. By the crystals, had she failed them. Those who relied on her. Those who looked to her for answers she did not have, like she was once more the mother she had never truly been. They were not her children, but she had abandoned them just as she had her own progeny. As the son who had been torn from her, twisted in pitch.
And now, she was as drenched in shadow as he had been then. As subsumed by her child’s namesake. Drifting in the tide between shadow and radiance. She was nothing. She was–
“Hello? Sir? Are you alright?”
And the Warrior opened his eyes. It was bright. It was...warm. The sun dappled above him, the leaves above his head casting odd shadows across his armor. When had he fallen asleep here? On this odd meadow, sitting under a tree? He blinked away sleep, letting his eyes wander. It was beautiful, rolling hills dotted with flowers, with sparse bushes and trees. Far from civilization, perhaps, but all the more gorgeous for it. Had he...where were the others? Had they left him behind? No, no they would not do that. Not...not...no, what was he...who were the others? Who was he waiting for, again?
The Warrior pressed a palm against his forehead – or rather, he tried, his gauntlet merely clanked against his helmet. “Oh,” he said, feeling more than a little foolish. Others. Their faces blurred. Voices spread as thin as dust. A golden sheen obscuring the world. Something wasn’t quite fitting, like a painting with a single missing stroke.
“Sir?” He started at the sound of a light and curious voice, turning his head to see a girl crouching down a few feet from him. Her hair was the same auburn color as her eyes, and she...was wearing quite an odd outfit. A buttoned, official top, almost military, with a short plaid-red skirt and a crimson cape. Very odd indeed. “Can you hear me?”
“Yes,” he replied. “I can, my apologies.” The Warrior shifted forward, and the girl backpedalled as he made his way to his feet. “You asked if...I was alright?” He placed a hand over his abdomen, as if testing the metal for scars that should not be there. When he found none, he focused his attention on her again. “I believe I am. Though I might be a little lost. I seem to have misplaced my companions.”
“Oh.” The girl wilted somewhat, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry to be rude sir. It’s just...I hoped that you might know where we are.”
The Warrior blinked. So she didn’t know either? He took a long look around his surroundings again. No town anywhere in sight. “You’re not from these parts, then? Your outfit is quite unusual...”
A little belt of laughter escaped the girl. “My outfit?” And she shook her head, as if biting back further impoliteness. “It’s the uniform of Akademeia's Class Zero, sir.” As she spoke, she fiddled; shifting back and forth, straightening her skirt, tapping on each button of her shirt in turn. As if the uniform was something new to her.
“Er,” the Warrior said. She had spoken that strange triplicate name so simply, like it was something common. “A class implies you are...a student, yes?”
“I...” She stared at him, tilting her head slightly. “You’ve never heard of Class Zero?” He shook his head, and she blinked, stilling somewhat, her idle motions slowing to nothing. “If you don’t mind me asking, sir, what nation are you from, exactly?”
“Cornelia,” he replied, the word flitting across his tongue unbidden. Hm. That didn’t quite feel accurate...but it was close, almost. It seemed right. The name was familiar enough to him. There was something important there. Home. Yes, that...that was his home, wasn’t it?
“Um,” the girl said, looking even more perplexed, a confused and wavering smile weaving its way onto her lips. “The Kingdom of Concordia, right? Your armor is definitely the right color.” It almost sounded like a joke, but he didn’t grasp the context.
He shook his head slowly. “It is a kingdom, yes, but its name is ‘Cornelia’. Not Concordia.”
The girl just kept staring at him. “I’ve never heard of anywhere like that. Not within Rubrum, anyway.” She tapped her chin with a finger. “You’re not from Concordia or Rubrum. So...Loricia, maybe?” The girl winced. “Please don’t tell me you’re from Milites.”
The Warrior shook his head again. “I told you already, my home is Cornelia. Not any of those kingdoms you mentioned. I’ve never even heard of any of them.”
And her smile dropped away. “That...doesn’t make any sense. Where could you possibly have–”
A scream. No, more like a wail. And the Warrior whirled in place to see a small figure bolting across the meadow as fast as their little legs could carry them. They looked to be some sort of mage, with blue robes and a large pointed hat that was almost taller than they were, albeit bent over backwards onto itself from its own length. And they were holding a fluffy white creature over their head, one with a large red nose, a pom of equal shade atop their head – which was currently bouncing back and forth rapidly – and a pair of bat wings on its back.
“Is that little sorcerer holding a Moogle?” he asked, perplexed.
“What in the...” The girl trailed off. “Sir, look over there!”
He followed her indication, just in time to see a pair of small humanoids finish cresting a nearby hill, in hot pursuit of the tiny magic-user. Vicious, toothy grimaces, knives clutched tight in grubby claws.
“Goblins.” The Warrior reached out a hand, beckoning his blade. And for a brief, horrible moment, he feared it would not come. That it would not respond to his summons. And then the hilt of that golden sword manifested in his grasp, that blessed weapon he had left Cornelia with. Braveheart. The Warrior knew not his own name, but he knew that blade’s. And along with it, the weight of his shield formed against his other arm, hand slipping so perfectly into the buckles. As it had been made for him. “Stand back, please. I shall take care of them.”
“No thanks.” Her statement took him by surprise, and he glanced over to see twin bursts of light wrap around the girl’s hands, forming into the shape of daggers. Less than a breath later, those weapons solidified; daggers indeed, and with vivid crimson blades etched with ornate golden trim. A summoning arte, like his, but the girl’s seemed so...foreign. Perhaps she really was from some faraway land. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m not some helpless civilian. I’m a soldier.” She flashed him a grin. “Maybe you should stand back, sir. I wouldn’t wanna leave you behind.” And with that, the girl dove forwards, at a perfect angle to intercept the goblins.
A soldier, at such a young age...he could feel his gut churn at nothing. The Warrior knew firsthand that the practice was common, especially for kingdoms more versed in war.
A blade placed against each shoulder in turn. Beaming smiles. Shining swords. The Light, so radiant above, like a dawn above the throne.
He knew it was accepted. A rite of passage, girls and boys becoming women and men, tempered in the sweat of battle.
Blood still wet on the grass, armor sloughing off into the dirt. Hands around her ankle, dragging her away from the wails of conflict, the crunch of metal.
He knew the girl’s parents were no doubt proud of their little champion.
Her last breath. Heavy as her heart. Her last word. Heavier than her body.
Their little–
"Warrior."
His hand shuddered around Braveheart’s hilt. Not fear. Anger. Will. And he broke into a sprint. Towards the girl. Towards the monsters. Towards the battlefield.
She reached their shared foes first, lashing out towards one of the monsters with a dagger. The goblin shrieked, stumbling backwards. The girl whipped her other hand out – for balance, perhaps – and paused, as if surprised her blow hadn’t been deep enough. And that brief pause was time enough for the other goblin to reach her, pulling its knife back with a shrill chatter.
The Warrior grit his teeth, raising his sword above his head. “Shine!” And a flare spiraled through space like a heat shimmer, bathing the girl in a radiant glow.
The goblin swung...and its blade deflected harmlessly off her, the monster’s eyes going wide. The girl didn’t hesitate a second longer, striking back and sending the monster stumbling away. She threw a smile over her shoulder. “Thank you!”
He couldn’t help but smile back, finally making it to the girl’s side, bracing his shield up and his sword at the ready. “You seem distracted. Is something wrong?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted, taking another swipe at their foes. “It’s...I tried to use my magic, but it’s not answering me.” Magic. He’d assumed the girl was some sort of rogue, but she possessed arcane talents as well? Perhaps such simple roles did not fit soldiers of...wherever land she heralded from.
“Can you still fight?” He slashed at a goblin, parrying its retaliation.
“I can!” The girl seemed almost a bit irritated, though perhaps it was just the heat of combat. She slammed the hilts of her daggers together, pulling back and hurling the paired blades like a glaive, catching a goblin across the chest. It squawked out a single indignant note, and–
The world flared dark. Just an instant, the briefest breath, but a pulse of shadow eclipsed the monster’s form. And then it was gone, vanishing as soon as it had come, and taking the defeated goblin with it. The girl’s daggers dropped to the ground, their target now absent, all momentum stolen.
Thud.
An impact in his side and a sharp, shooting pain. A small knife pressed into his flesh, woven around his guard by the now very gleeful-looking goblin, taking full advantage of his distracted state. He glared down at the monster, slamming it in the face with his shield; it stumbled back, clutching its nose and probably swearing at him in whatever its native tongue was.
Heat flared against his face, and he raised his shield just as the goblin was engulfed in a burst of fire. Unnatural, shimmering flame that covered the monster like a blanket. It screeched, and then it fell silent. And with another odd, shadowy pulse, it too vanished, the spell dispersing in an instant.
The Warrior turned towards the girl, giving her a thankful smile. “I’m grateful for your assistance. Though, I thought you said–”
“No, that...” She shook her head, her eyes wide. “That wasn’t me.”
“Um,” came a small, shy voice from behind the pair. The Warrior glanced back to see the little mage, now holding a wooden staff, the Moogle floating alongside them. “That was...my spell. Sorry if I scared you.”
“Not in the slightest,” the Warrior assured, dismissing both his shield and sword. “And I will thank you as well, for helping me.” He bent down, taking a knee to address them more directly. Even at their eye-level, their face was still obscured, only two bright yellow eyes shining beneath the brim of their hat. “Are you alright?”
The little mage nodded. “Mhm! I got kinda scared, but I’m alright now. Thank you for fighting off those goblins, Mister. And you too, Miss!”
“You’re very welcome,” the girl said with a big smile, but her attention seemed more towards the Moogle than the mage. The Warrior stood back up, and pain once again shot across his side, bringing his hand to the wound, dragging a wince out of him. The girl started, blinking at him. “You’re hurt.”
“Somewhat,” he admitted. “Though I’m certain such a wound will–”
“Just hold still,” she said, not even listening to him, placing both palms out and over each other. “I don’t know if this will work, but...” She pursed her lips, and then took a deep breath in. “Cure.” And a pulse of emerald magic rolled over the Warrior's hand, through the newfound gap in his armor. A wave of relief washed away the pain, and he lifted his hand to see the armor weaving itself back together, closing its own wound as well. “Oh, good! I was scared that it wouldn't work either.”
“Healing magic,” he said, making no attempt to hide his surprise. “Again, thank you. And that’s quite an impressive spell.”
“I agree!” the Moogle added with a dramatic flail of its legs, the Warrior nearly flinching in place from the sudden high-pitched voice. “You’re all amazing, kupo! I sure am glad I’m putting my faith in you!” The little creature almost preened, its pom wiggling back and forth. “You’re exactly the heroes Materia said you’d be, kupo!”
“Materia?” the girl echoed, brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, I’m confused.”
“He said that she’s...” the little mage began, before trailing off. “Oh. Sorry Mog, I should let you say it. You’re...the one who said it to me, after all.”
The Moogle fluttered in place, chest swelling, as if it were taking a huge breath in. “I don’t know if you realized this yet, kupo. But you two aren’t in your own worlds anymore.” The Warrior blinked. Something...small, and plain, and so very vital, clicked into place inside him. Like a single block fitting snugly in a wall that hadn’t quite realized it needed it. “This world is called Respite, kupo. It’s a place for heroes like you to rest and relax and be at peace.” Mog wilted somewhat. “But it’s currently being attacked by monsters like you just saw, kupo. So the Imperius Tutelar Materia, who helped make this world, summoned you and more heroes like you to help defend it!”
“That’s...” A laugh slipped out of the girl, something that seemed almost involuntary. “No, that can’t...that’s insane, you can’t expect me to...” And she took a long look at the Warrior, his armor and horned helm. At the mage, their robes and odd hat. And then down at her own hands. “This is...really another world?”
The Moogle nodded. “That’s right, kupo.”
She pursed her lips, seeming overwhelmed by emotion. The Warrior felt tempted to reach a hand out to the girl, offer some manner of comfort, but no motion seemed worthwhile enough to pursue. “Do we get to go back home?”
Another nod, this one far more frantic. “Materia said that she wouldn’t keep you here after the monsters were gone, kupo! Once we chase them off, she’ll make sure you can go back home.”
“Oh,” the girl said, a relieved sigh eclipsing her words for a moment. “That’s...that’s good.” And she gave a skewed smile. “I’m not quite sure why she chose me, though. I’m not...that much of a hero.”
“Your valor earlier would speak otherwise,” the Warrior corrected with a little smile. “Perhaps you judge heroism more harshly than I, but I would have no qualms about such a title being extended upon your actions so far.”
“Um,” she said, smiling somewhat awkwardly. “Thank you? Sort of...high praise, from someone who doesn’t even know my name.” With a little start, she extended a hand to him. “Uh, it’s Rem Tokimiya! That’s my name, I mean.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ser Tokimiya.” He took her hand, giving it a firm shake. “Young as you are, you seem bound by the same tenants as myself.” The girl was hardly a squire, but he saw in her so much of the fledgling knight he had once been. A soldier, perhaps, but that title did the girl no honors. “I am grateful to have your expertise in this...newfound pilgrimage.”
“Just Rem,” she corrected, smiling wide at the praise. “And you are...?”
Ah. Yes, he should have expected the subject to come up. “I do not have a name,” he said, filling the words with as much calm and firm confidence as he could muster. “In my world, those around me referred to me as a Warrior of Light. That is the closest I have to a name of my own.”
“Oh,” Rem said, letting go of his hand. “I...” She cracked a wavering smile. “Sir Warrior, then?”
He chuckled. “Simply ‘Warrior’ will do nicely, I think.”
“And I’m Vivi!” the little mage said, one hand up in a polite yet impatient greeting. “Mog said that I’m a hero too, so, um, I’ll be...fighting alongside you guys, if that’s okay.”
“I for one would not dare to protest the allyship of a mage of your caliber,” the Warrior said, solemnly.
“As long as you’re okay with it,” Rem added, smiling down at Vivi.
He nodded excitedly. “Mhm! You both helped save me, so I’m gonna make sure to help save you both right back.”
“Let’s get going then!” Mog said, his whole body shuddering in delight. “This way, kupo! I smell a powerful monster.” And he flew off down the meadow, with Vivi in scrambling pursuit, Rem a few steps behind them both.
The Warrior paused, taking one last look at the meadow, at this place that seemed so impossibly familiar to him, and yet so otherworldly at the same time. Like a stranger wearing a friend’s clothes. Something that both alarmed and relieved, eased and ached in the same fell motion. This place was odd. It was quiet.
And it was wrong.
“There’s a character called Cornelia in a play in my world,” Vivi said, keeping his eyes on his feet as the quartet walked – or in Mog’s case, floated – towards the end of the meadow, where the dirt began to harden into stone. A series of small mountains, or perhaps large stone hills, had graced the horizon, and the Moogle continued to insist that there was something quite strong in that direction. “That’s actually where I met Zidane and Garnet! Oh and Steiner too, I guess.” He gave a little hum between his words, like some quiet and echoing thought. “I went to Alexandria to try and see it, but my ticket was bad so I had to sneak in instead. And then there was a whole big ker..ker...a big thing, and I accidentally set Garnet’s costume on fire. She was okay though, I promise! And then we went off together in Zidane’s ship, and crashed in a big forest, and then, um...I’ve been talking a lot, I’m sorry.”
The Warrior smiled. “You need not apologize. It is interesting to learn about another’s world, especially one no doubt quite different from my own.” He adjusted his bracer, pausing a moment. “Then again, my world does have both theaters and ships. So perhaps they are not so dissimilar.”
“What about airships?” Vivi asked.
“Yes,” he said, “though such inventions are quite rare indeed.”
“Ohhh,” Vivi said, stretching the word out. “Zidane had an airship. Or, he was part of a theater, and the theater had an airship. Or...I’m not sure whose ship it was.” He hummed again. “But they aren’t that rare, I think. That’s how I got to Alexandria.”
“They’re pretty common in Orience, too,” Rem added. “Most of the time, we went to missions on Chocobo, but sometimes we’d take an airship to get us closer. There’s a ton all over Rubrum.”
The Warrior nodded, trying to keep up; and mentally reminding himself to ask her more about whatever a ‘Chocobo’ was, at some later time. “To say you and your allies went on missions implies to me more of crusaders than soldiers.”
“Um,” Rem said, tilting her head slightly. “Class Zero is...we’re students of war, I guess? We’re definitely not crusaders or anything like that. Just soldiers.” She pursed her lips, as if struggling with articulation. “We fight for the Dominion of Rubric, but we still have to train and study. So they send us on missions to take care of things only we can handle, and then we come right back to Akademia after.”
“I see,” he said, quietly. The more he learned about the girl’s home world, the more...twisted it sounded. A nation eternally at war, sending its children to the battlefield before they have even finished their studies. And there was that...’Agito’ concept she'd mentioned, something she and her classmates were striving for. A title, or paragon position. He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what that term meant, he had a chilling suspicion it was something quite ugly indeed.
A vow spiralled itself across his heart. One of a dozen, vivid and red. He would find the time to speak to the girl, before the two parted. He would find the words he had not yet found for himself. And he would nudge her off her soldier’s vigil. That awful, woeful path.
He would find some way to save her. The way he had not yet been saved.
“That sounds pretty scary,” Vivi said. “I know I’d be scared. Sometimes when people go off like that, they don’t ever come back.” He glanced up towards Rem, his bright yellow eyes shining with careful curiosity. “Do you get worried when your friends go off on missions?” For a child, Vivi seemed...disturbingly cognizant of such complex suffering. The concept of war didn’t appear to startle or alarm him, and that was all the more chilling to consider.
“Yeah, of course,” Rem said, sounding almost a little offended by the assertion. “But I trust my friends. I know they’ll be alright. Class Zero always has each other.” She laughed, just a little thing, but there was some terrifying depth to whatever it was covering up. “I’ve got their back, and they’ve got mine.” And the girl started in place. “I mean, when I get back to Orience, I will.”
“They’re lucky to have you, then,” the Warrior said, placing a smile atop his own lips that did not match his concern for the both children. “And I believe you are quite lucky to have them, as well.”
“I am,” she said, a laugh across her words. “And thanks, Warrior.”
“We’ve almost arrived, kupo!” Mog declared, his little wings flapping overtime as he hurried towards the edge of the meadow. “The big monster is right over there, kupo!”
Rem pursed her lips. “I don’t see anything, but...” A flash of pale light, and her daggers scored themselves into reality. “Better safe than sorry, right?”
The Warrior nodded. “Indeed. Master Vivi, prepare yourself.” He called upon Braveheart, and the blade answered, along with his shield.
The little mage clutched his staff, glancing around in all directions for their threat.
Seconds passed. Their slow and careful pace continued. And no monster emerged. The Warrior bit back a sigh, feeling more than a little foolish bracing himself at thin air alongside–
The ground rumbled. No, not just the ground, everything shook. Like the world itself was coming undone. Something vast and dark surged across his vision, a shadow passing over the sky. Something impossibly large and even more impossibly mighty. Whatever breath he had was gone now, gasping in the void.
Respite tore itself open. A ripple in existence, a pulse of pitch and purple spiraling into view. It was dark, and awful, and wrong. And a single, enormous gauntlet emerged from that...gate, grasping at air, yanking the rest of its body farther along.
“It’s a giant!” Vivi yelped, nearly pressing against the Warrior’s leg.
The monster was armored from base to peak, covered in blue iron besides for its beady yellow eyes, far crueler than Vivi’s in every way. Its sword was similarly a pale grey and tarnished metal, nearly bigger than the giant itself. That monster towered above the trio, and it roared.
“Is it magitek?” Rem asked, her voice somehow steady, careful. As if she were used to such abominable threats. “Or just some sort of ghost?”
“Whatever it is,” Mog squeaked, “it’s up to you three now, kupo! Good luck!” And he fluttered rapidly away from the trio, aiming towards a nearby boulder jutting out of the ground.
The Warrior grit his teeth. So much for the Moogle’s support. “My magic can protect us, but only at a time. And with a sword that large–”
“We split up,” Rem cut in, finishing his thought. And she turned to the shuddering little mage. “Vivi. Could you try and be brave? All we need you to do is focus on that big monster, and use whatever spells you have.”
“Ser Rem and I will protect you,” the Warrior added.
“It’s fine,” Vivi grumbled, almost a petty, childish whine – the quick shift in behavior catching the Warrior more than a little off guard. “I’m good at fighting. Me and Zidane and everybody killed lots of monsters together.” He held his staff up, and then pointed it at the monster with both hands. “So you don’t have to treat me like a child.”
But he was a child. The Warrior opened his mouth to protest, but a shift in the giant snapped his attention elsewhere. “Ser Rem, Master Vivi, move!” He leapt to the left as the monster raised its massive arm and then brought down the enormous blade. The impact shook the ground, and he glanced back, heart darting up into his throat as panic gave way to dread. Rem was alive, stumbling but standing, and...she must have scooped up Vivi, as she was now holding the little mage, who in turn looked utterly disoriented by the current course of events.
The giant pulled its sword out of the ground, bits of rock and dirt falling from the blade, and it began to turn. Away from the Warrior. Towards his allies.
He grit his teeth. Shield up and back, and he let it fly. Light caught the buckler, sending it true across the side of that iron helm with a resounding clang, before arcing back down to him. The giant paused. And it turned to face him, those yellow eyes radiant with malice. It swung its sword up and back, focus locked completely on him.
He caught his shield, immediately raising it between himself and the giant. “Shine–” The Warrior barely had a chance to evoke the spell before the blade slammed against his guard, nearly knocking his shield aside. The barrier crumpled, splintering.
A faint and distant flash of light, voices crying out in cacophonous unison. He could feel unfamiliar magic weaving its fingers between his muscles, and smell the crackle of scorched metal.
“Shine.” Once more, the light shimmered into the air. But the monster did not abate. A blade raised. Brought down. The ground beneath the Warrior crumpled. His barrier screamed in his ears. “Shine.” His voice strained, lungs burning. Raised. Brought down. A guillotine flash. An impact tremor that threatened to unhinge his bones. Sweat poured down his neck, into his eyes, numbing his limbs. “Shine.”
The Light did not come.
But the blade did.
It crashed through the last vestiges of his magic, splintering and cracking and eviscerating that barrier. Maybe the giant was weaker than before. But so was the Warrior. His legs wavered, and abandoned him, sending the knight down onto his knees. His arms had embraced similar cowardice, limp by his sides. And he could do naught but watch as that creaking monstrosity slowly raised its sword again.
Your wish shall be granted.
He could do naught but die.
Powerless beings. Fall into the shadows of despair.
And begone.
No.
He would not fall. He could not allow himself to fall. Not here. Not until he had completed his duty. Not until he had saved them.
The Warrior dragged himself back upright. His hand burned on the hilt of his sword. Yet...he felt cold. Purposeful, and frigid. And sharp. He fixed his gaze on the giant, as it tensed to strike once more. He opened his mouth. “Bathe...” The Warrior pulled his sword up as hard as he could, the tip catching against the ground and sparking, burning, searing. “In the Light!” And he swung the blade up.
For an instant, there was stillness. And then that blade cut the sun itself across the ironclad giant, a burning light, a wave of radiance. The monster stiffened and roared as the shining surge engulfed it. And then the Light's tide swept back. The glow dissipated. And the giant stood still. One breath. Two.
The sword fell from its grasp. That gargantuan blade, slamming harmlessly into the dirt. And its wielder keeled over backwards, both giant and sword vanishing with a colossal pulse of shadow before it even reached the ground.
And it was quiet again.
Well, for a moment, at least.
“What was that!?” Rem said, almost squawking out the words. “That...Warrior, that was incredible. You...I mean, maybe it’s obvious, you did say you were a ‘Warrior of Light’ but I didn’t think you meant it so literally.”
“Mhm mhm mhm!” Vivi added, nodding so quickly the Warrior was almost worried his head would come off his neck. “And your new sword is super cool-looking!”
His new sword? He glanced down at the blade in his hand. And nearly froze in place. That...was not Braveheart.
The sword was pale and sharp, its hilt spiked upwards around the blade, resembling a snowflake suspended against the metal. Or...was it even metal? It had a similar weight, but it looked almost crystalline. He could see the green of the grass through it, and it cast an odd dappled pattern across the ground from the sun above. He...he knew this sword. He’d seen it once before, in a far off dream, a blade buried deep in the depths of who he had once been.
“Icebrand,” he said, and the sword seemed to hum at its own name. “That is impossible. This blade does not belong to me, not...it is not mine.”
“I don’t know how you did it,” Mog began, wandering over to the Warrior from his previous vantage point. “But it looks like you tapped into the power of the crystals, kupo!”
The Warrior felt a familiar chill caress his spine. “Elaborate,” he said, barely able to tear his gaze away from Icebrand enough to issue the request.
“Materia has given all of her warriors a splinter of her power, kupo,” Mog said, almost bouncing up and down to punctuate his explanation. “These crystals are dormant at first, but they’ll get stronger the more you use them. Like building up a new muscle, kupo!”
“Will we...” Rem began, hesitating, clearly uncomfortable. “Will we become L’Cie if those crystals...wake up?”
The term was lost on the Warrior, but Mog seemed to understand it, as the moogle shook his head firmly. “You’ll stay yourselves, kupo. I promise! It’s only a power to help you fight the monsters, there isn’t a cost. And you won’t keep those powers when you leave, kupo.”
The girl visibly relaxed, relief clear across her face. Or...it was more than relief, wasn’t it? She seemed almost disappointed, though he couldn’t quite be sure. “Oh. That’s...that’s good, then.”
“How do we wake them up?” Vivi asked. “Is there like...a special password, or do we have to yell really loudly, or–”
“None of those, kupo!” Mog said, almost chastising the little mage.
“Oh good,” Vivi said. “I really don’t like yelling.”
“The best way to do it is...” Mog paused, almost tensing at the air. “Oh, that’s right, kupo! Perfect, I can show you right now.” He glanced towards Rem. “Let’s finish our job here, kupo. And then you’ll see!”
The Warrior raised an eyebrow. “The monster is slain. What task yet awaits us here?”
“That giant might be gone,” Mog said, “but this place won’t be free of monsters yet. Not until we close that, kupo.” And he pointed with a stubby arm towards the area where the giant had manifested.
There was still something hanging in the air, faint but distinct. A shimmer suspended in place, otherworldly, a twisting distortion. Like a tear. Like a wound.
“That gate is called a Torsion, kupo,” Mog explained. “It looks like this one is already pretty faint, but it might spit out another monster if it sticks around!” He scooted closer to Rem, poking at her arm. “Reach out towards that Torsion, kupo. I’ll show you how to close it.”
The girl seemed more than a little unsure of herself, but she acquiesced, shifting both daggers to her left hand and aiming her right palm towards the shimmer. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Just focus on it, kupo.” Mog hovered next to her, his pom seeming to strain at the air. “Right where you are, see if you can feel it, kupo.”
Rem bit her lip, nodding and tensing her fingers, squinting at the swirling Torsion. And then her eyes widened. “I...I can feel it! I think! It’s not...it’s not there, but I can almost...there’s a resistance, like the air is pushing back on me.”
“That’s it!” Mog exclaimed, bouncing up and down. “Now, close that Torsion, kupo!”
Rem took a breath in, and slowly closed her fingers, clearly straining. But the dark seemed to...ebb. Like it was swirling back in on itself, shrinking and collapsing. And with one final exhalation of effort, Rem clamped her hand into a fist, and the Torsion vanished completely. She let her arm fall, blinking, as if she was surprised at her own victory.
“That was amazing Miss Rem!” Vivi said, clapping his little hands together.
“Well done indeed,” the Warrior said. And his eyes flicked down towards the girl’s daggers, almost on instinct. Oh. Interesting. “I believe you should take a look at your weaponry, Rem.”
She followed his advice, just a quick little look, and nearly immediately dropped them. The dagger’s hilts were now full, ornate gold, and the blades were an almost jade-green metal, catching the sun beautifully, seeming almost like wings. “What the...where did...” And she whipped her focus up towards the Warrior, towards Icebrand. “Oh! Oh, that’s what happened to you! Your weapon just...” She dismissed the daggers, making a vague and excited motion with her hands. “And now mine are...” And the same motion again. “And you said it was crystals?” Glancing towards Mog.
“That’s right, kupo!” The Moogle chirped. “Both of your crystals are now awake! So I’ll be sure to teach you how to use your new powers, kupo.” He wiggled in place, his pom straightening up, trained on nothing. “But first...I think I sense a new warrior, kupo! This way!” And he shot towards the mountain like a little fluffy cannonball, leaving his triplicate wards in confused silence.
“I guess we should follow him?” Rem said, throwing a sheepish smile towards the Warrior. “I mean, if you want to. I don’t really have any other ideas.”
“Me neither,” Vivi said, quiet and almost thoughtful.
They were looking to him for leadership? That did make some sense, he was older than the both of them. But it still felt odd. Not wrong. Merely somewhat...nostalgic. “Yes,” he agreed, his own voice almost surprising him. “Let’s continue onward, then. To our new ally.” He let his gaze drift towards the mountains, towards the sun nearly dipping below the ridge. “To the Light.”