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Bhunivelze watches. He watches as humanity is scrambling and grasping for the last straws of survival, escaping the chaos and taking refuge in that artificial world. He is quite impressed by their ingenuity and their ability to reproduce what he had tasked his fal'Cies to do a long time ago; the humans truly are a species he still lacks knowledge of.
But this world has to be purged. Chaos is infiltrating every pore of its earth and its core, dirtying everything. He can offer them a new world to live in complete bliss. He will be the perfect god and they will bow to him like their savior.
They had to leave this fake world first. It is interesting that they named it 'Bhunivelze', for he is certain they barely know his existence. Humans are fragile and are in need of constant reassurance, security and protection; this man-made cocoon is a great haven, he can't deny it. However, chaos doesn't stop at the earth, and soon the humans are beginning to see how much their little planet is affected—the protecting sphere is spoiled, their lands are decaying, the atmosphere polluted. Bhunivelze witnesses their agitation, their will to keep on living despite the state of the world. Humans are strong.
So he decides to build cities for them in Nova Chrysalia, first Luxerion, then Yusnaan. His fal'Cie Pandaemonium will provide them with food, so they won't have to worry about such a basic need. Most of them, after much persuasion from some sort of higher-ups, accept these offerings and come down the floating planet. Bhunivelze knows they won't regret it, as life there is easier.
A group of people stay up there, though, in the Thirteenth Ark. Scientists. They're trying to find a way to control chaos, to bend the rules of the gods. This doesn't work this way. They have to abide by his rules, he will become what they need in the new world he's preparing for them.
He didn't account for the humans' stubborn streak, especially when they set their minds on something. The scientists are working every day to find a solution to the problem, and he sees their research bearing fruit. If they continue on this path, they will stray away from him; he cannot let that happen. Controlling chaos shouldn't be something that falls into humans' hands.
One by one, he lures them into the cities below. Humans are afraid of events that they can't comprehend; making lights flicker, objects move, wind whistle, images appear, it's all easy for him. This place soon becomes synonym of fear, of question, of bad luck. The looks on these men are haunted, like they're ready to submit to darkness whenever something out of the ordinary occurs. Good. That's good. Scientists are rational people, they explain everything with facts, but when none is presented to them, their minds build a bridge and they're forced to recognize there is no explanation except for a god's doing. They all abandon their little comfort zone and join their families in Nova Chrysalia.
One remains. One who was unfazed by these bizarre events, who kept going on like nothing happened. Bhunivelze doesn't understand. When fear and insanity began playing with all of their minds, he kept focusing on the task at hand. His eyes never wavered in front of the hardships and the delusional speeches of his colleagues. Something drives him.
Hope Estheim. A remarkable human. Strong principles, unbreakable resolve, determined. Bhunivelze has never seen someone so invested in a project. Hope Estheim is literally the hope of humanity, he has been for centuries. No wonder people worship him, given his hard work and his ideals. Bhunivelze finds himself watching this man full of mysteries execute every day the same tasks, looking, searching, analyzing, testing, and all for the sake of a world he's only a tiny pigment of.
It's fascinating. There are no words to describe just how fascinating Hope Estheim is. Humans rarely like silence, but here is that man, alone in the now deserted Thirteenth Ark, fighting against forces he barely understands. Bhunivelze doesn't fully grasp what the humans are feeling, what their hearts are composed of, but he recognizes emotions when he sees them. Losing his colleagues one by one is taking a serious toll on Hope Estheim's health. Restlessness, sleeplessness, auto-persuasion, mumbling, erratic writing. It is no surprise. He's harming himself, uselessly, when he can simply go to his fellow companions in Nova Chrysalia and live the perfect life.
Maybe this is what Bhunivelze needs; someone powerful who is doing everything for humanity, sacrificing his own comfort.
Yes. He needs him. Hope Estheim is the embodiment of humanity. Through him, he can learn what they long for, what their hearts are saying. He is an essential piece to the design of the new world, like the key that will unlock all the secrets. Bhunivelze is sure that keeping that man around will be useful.
Are you going to submit to my will?
Hope Estheim's mind isn't as malleable as the other scientists'—he would have followed them a long time ago if it was the case. He must be used to being alone, though no habit like this one can have lasting good effects. Humans are creatures living in communities, because they are stronger when they are many. Tricks of the light and noises won't help him get to him. He has to resort to something more irrational, more magical.
Bhunivelze observes. There must be a way he can make this man his. The Thirteenth Ark is barren and devoid of life, only the pieces of documents and whirring of machines are the companion of this lone scientist. Hope Estheim has tried to make this place his home; there are pictures of him, of other people, some of them probably dead or missing—Bhunivelze remembers seeing their faces during his sleep.
Ah. The past. He can draw inspiration from it.
He sees a family, broken by work and events that go beyond their understanding, a woman's death, friends found in people who shouldn't have met, a journey that strengthened their bonds, warmth and bitterness, wishes, promises. He sees all of that, narrating a life that has never stopped flowing with time, and probably won't until his last breath.
Hope Estheim is a man whose goals are driven by the people who are dear to him, to reconnect with those he lost during a time when everything was simpler.
Bhunivelze can work with that. Snippets of a caring mother and a strict father, of joyous moments spent in a never-ending green land, of relieved conversations with people he thought missing. If Hope Estheim believes he can achieve anything for them, Bhunivelze simply needs to bring them to him.
It starts with voices. You're pushing yourself too hard—it's alright to ask for help—you can rest now—we love you—there is a time and a place for certain matters—we love you. Empty words for Bhunivelze, but carrier of mighty importance for Hope Estheim. If he was restless before, he's now clearly agitated, brows knitted together and swallowing pill on pill of medication. He probably thinks it's exhaustion.
A dead man is of no use—stop obsessing over your work—don't think like that—we care a lot about you—aren't you smarter than that?
Snow Villiers and Noel Kreiss visit, sometimes. Life on Nova Chrysalia allows technology to strive, and they managed to build again their airships; they converse, the three of them, huddled around a cup of tea, exchanging information. Bhunivelze notices that Hope Estheim never mentions what is happening in the Ark, surely to keep researching and to avoid his friends telling him to go down. That's understandable; a man with strong convictions such as Hope Estheim cannot let insanity hamper his work. Snow Villiers voices his concern, though, but he's brushed off. He doesn't insist. Noel Kreiss doesn't say anything, but the looks he gives his friend are telling enough to know what he's thinking. They leave with a promise of coming back soon.
Bhunivelze tries. For years on end, he watches, plans, analyzes. Hope Estheim sometimes leaves the Ark to find his friends in Luxerion or Yusnaan, but never for long, as if he's drawn to the Thirteenth Ark and the secrets it harbors. Bhunivelze makes sure that no scientist is tempted to join him in his research, with the same old tricks. Alone, Hope Estheim is easier to break.
He starts talking to himself.
“I should have brought more material... This doesn't make sense, what did Professor White say again? I have to find his book...”
The best parts were his mumbling answering what Bhunivelze whispers to him.
It's not going to lead you anywhere.
“It will. Who knows? We have to try. I won't stop until I find a solution to this mess.”
A mess. The situation can indeed be described as a mess; a mess due to the gods' neglect, a mess due to the humans' interference, something that both parties are trying to repair in their own way. Bhunivelze is satisfied with this response.
Hope Estheim stops visiting Nova Chrysalia after a few years. His research doesn't make any progress. He talks to the voices, doesn't consider himself as insane, but his haunted look is the clear indication that he knows he needs help. But for Bhunivelze, it's not enough. Voices are commonplace now, his target became accustomed to something he can't explain. He has to find a weapon even more powerful. Even the voices of his mother, or his father, didn't cause much damage, though it did make him disoriented for a few weeks.
Then, Bhunivelze settles on a more drastic approach—looking into someone's mind isn't a difficult feat for him, after all. Hope Estheim won't even notice. He searches all this brilliant mind has to offer, from the different formulas to the landscapes until the faces of dear ones appear. He recognizes some of them, who have traveled through time and space way too often, but these people are still alive. No, he has to attack in the most sensitive spots.
Nora Estheim is the first candidate. She is the person most held in esteem, the memory of her death safely buried under layers of years of motivation and courage. A beautiful woman who sacrificed her life so that her son could live; Bhunivelze is no stranger to that concept. Her phantom is walking in the room Hope Estheim is locked in, a flickering image lasting long enough to question her presence. She's floating, light on her feet, smile on the lips, a perfect copy of the memory on the Hanging Edge of Cocoon. Hope Estheim stares at the spot she appeared, eyes empty, his fingers tightly curled around his pen. He drew in a sharp breath.
“You won't get to me. I won't submit.”
It was the first time he directly addressed words to Bhunivelze. Well, interesting. Bhunivelze can't say he isn't happy with this development, and while it can prove harder to crack this enigma, it doesn't matter. He knows what he's doing.
Hope Estheim grows distressed. Despite the many confident words he's spouting, the images of people who shouldn't be here are tugging on his mind, drawing out wishes he thought tucked away in a corner of his head, never to be seen again. Bhunivelze doesn't need to understand hearts to play with them. Humans are predictable. Nora Estheim lingers at his side, Bartholomew Estheim keeps a distance but looks proud, Oerba Dia Vanille smiles the brightest, Oerba Yun Fang sports a smug expression, and Serah Farron shoots him reassuring looks. Sometimes they are alone, sometimes they appear as a group, Bhunivelze doesn't keep a clear schedule of what illusions he creates. One time, Hope Estheim aborted a gesture to touch his mother's hand, but recoiled at the last moment, like burned by this simple move, nose wrinkled and lips pinched.
Sazh Katzroy stands proud just like a combination of Nora Estheim and Bartholomew Estheim, and then Bhunivelze decides to use his last resort. He has eyes everywhere on this world, scrutinizing every whisper of soul he comes across, and Lightning Farron was missing to the list of people.
She stares down Hope Estheim, arms crossed, stance casual and expression satisfied, just like the image he saw in the man's mind. The figure of the role model that has led Hope Estheim all his life, even when she disappeared; perhaps she's the most important driving force that pushes him to ignore even the gods' meddling.
That does it. The final blow. The reaction isn't controlled, papers and glass alike are thrown away, the other illusions stand by, watching, like witnesses of a miraculous reunion, except this is no reunion. Hope Estheim's face twists into something ugly, mixing emotions both positive and negative that shouldn't come together in the first place. Bhunivelze senses resistance in his shoulders and his restrained voice, but the facts are there and Lightning Farron is the key to his success.
“So much for that... All these years looking for you, and there you are, even though it's not you. I know it's not you.”
Maybe it will take a bit longer to convince him, but what are a few days or a few years compared to a lifetime? The cracks widen, Hope Estheim's concentration drops and his research is making no headway (hasn't been for a long time)—is there even anything to discover, now? Nora and Bartholomew Estheim keep giving him ghostly pats on the back, Oerba Dia Vanilla keeps grinning, Oerba Yun Fang keeps pushing him forward, Sazh Katzroy keeps encouraging him, Serah Farron keeps reassuring him, but it's Lightning Farron and her smile and her unwavering resolve he follows.
He yearns for her, eyes sparkling with a light that seems both wary and relieved, though what is remaining of his sanity is pulling back, just enough to make him doubt. But maybe he's just tired, fed up of fighting phantoms when he can simply give in, blissfully unaware of what other monstrosity the world has to offer. Lightning Farron hovers around him, points at something, moves his mouth to let familiar words tumble out, and Hope Estheim is mesmerized, as if it didn't matter anymore that all the previous illusions did similar things. There is only one step between a wish and a dream.
The man-made Cocoon they've abandoned centuries ago is going to be of perfect use. No one will dare venture into it.
Everything will be alright—just keep following me and everyone will survive—there's no need to be afraid anymore.
And Hope Estheim cries out, grasping for the single image he desires the fiercest, and lets his legs carry him, towards his goal, towards what made him cling so much to so little, and Bhunivelze rejoices, as the Ark engulfs this man who is going to be the vessel of a god.
For a better world, Bhunivelze will tear open a human's soul and heart for their sake, and his own.