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Everything was cold.
Clive lay in a sea of black, unseeing. Everything was quiet, save for an oddly comforting buzz of nothingness. It wasn’t too different from the hum of the sea, he thinks to himself. Perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad idea to lose himself to this nothingness. He, they, had accomplished what they had set out to do, hadn’t they?
A distinct pain shoots through him then, spreading from his chest to his limbs, echoing the pain of his final battle against Ultima over and over again. He wants to groan, to shake off the pain, to do something, but finds himself unable to move in the void. Part of him wishes that the afterlife was something more. Something warm, bright, and filled with the comfort of a loved one’s embrace. In fact, shouldn’t there be fanfare awaiting him? He expected his father, at the very least, awaiting him with open arms and congratulations.
From there he would turn, pulling Joshua into a warm embrace, complimenting the warm tears streaming down his cheeks as he apologizes profusely for failing him once again. Dion wouldn’t be far off, joining their odd victory fanfare, and from there so much more awaited them. Rest, a chance to recuperate, and the opportunity to look down on all the lives they had saved.
Surely he had earned that much.
“Clive!”
Perhaps he had spoken too soon.
Clive tries to find the source of his name, using the last of his strength in an attempt to navigate through the empty. He hears his name again, and again, and far off in the distance, he sees it: a single glowing feather.
He’s standing now, his legs clumsily propelling him forward, chasing the ever out of reach light. His breath comes in gasps as he struggles to chase after it, but in turn the calls of his name become louder and more clear. The flame of the feather grows brighter, hotter, to the point that he can feel it from where he runs. It edges him to push past his limits, stretching his arm as far as he could, his fingertips brushing against the plume. There’s a flash of light, and warmth pools in the tips of his fingers, slowly spreading to his chest, his legs.
He shoots up, hands slipping in the sand beneath him. It’s still dark, and the lapping of waves is the first thing he notices as his vision clears. Before him, as if glowing beneath the moonlight, were Joshua and Dion. Dried blood caked their skin, their clothes tattered and torn, but they were there. They were breathing, and they were alive.
“Clive,” Joshua whispers, reaching for him with shaky hands. Fingers brush against the cool skin of his cheek, and tears pool in his eyes. He lets out a hiccup, breath leaving him in quick, shallow gasps. Dion claps a hand on his shoulder, letting out a breathless laugh. He too, reaches for Clive, perhaps to confirm that he was really there , gently resting a hand atop his shoulder.
The feeling of their lives, their warmth was too much for Clive.
His arms were around Joshua’s shoulders in a heartbeat, holding him close. Tears burned at his eyes, but he blinked them away, focusing on the rise and fall of Joshua’s chest against his own.
“You led me back,” Clive whispers, meeting Joshua’s confused look with a smile, “thank you, Joshua.”
For a long while the trio stayed like that, their muffled sobs and hiccups the only sound heard above the crash of the waves. Just as the sun peeked over the horizon did they finally stir. Slowly pulling back, Clive finally met Dion’s gaze and offered a small nod and a warm smile, which was returned in full.
Joshua takes a moment to compose himself, wiping the tears and snot off his face to the best of his ability before facing the sunrise.
“We should head back,” he says finally, voice cracking, “I’m sure…I’m sure everyone’s waiting for us.”
“Indeed.” Dion rises first, offering a hand to Joshua, who in turn reaches for Clive. But when he reaches out, he freezes. The Crystal’s Curse had spread so far, so quickly. His hand was already gone, the white stone in its place glowing against the rising sun. The fact hadn’t escaped his companions either, and in turn they both reached to help Clive rise.
Their return to the Hideaway was slow. None of them had the strength to ride atop a Chocobo, so they walked, stumbling their way home. The sun had set yet again by the time they reached Obolus’ dock; they barely had the strength to stand, yet the promise of reunion gave them a fresh bout of motivation. They leaned heavily on one another for the length of the ride, focus drifting to the newfound peace of the world around them.
“I didn’t think you’d survive,” Clive admits, eyeing the smooth skin of Joshua’s chest. How long had that grotesque wound festered away at his brother, sucking the life from him? The resilience it must have taken to overcome not only the Crystal’s Curse, but Ultima’s constant battle for control, was admirable. But just how tired was his brother?
“I was shocked, too. Dion found me swept up on the beach, not far from you. It was…strange. I know I died on Origin. Felt my life slip away, felt myself grow cold until I couldn’t feel anything anymore.”
“Perhaps it was a gift,” Dion mused, wistfully looking towards the horizon. “One final use of the Phoenix’s gift, before it vanished forevermore.”
Silence fell over the trio then, each grappling with their mortality and the miracle that was their return. And it was then the Hideaway came into view, haloed in the moonlight.
The pier was clear upon their arrival, but the sounds of celebration were flowing through the air. The orchestrion, normally heard from the pier, was practically drowned out by the cheers and drunken singing of all. As they left the lift, they saw The Tub & Crown was crowded, practically all of the inhabitants of the Hideaway exchanging congratulatory words, the clashing of mug against mug filling the air as they celebrated the end of yet another trial that they had overcome. No one noticed them as they stepped into the hall, undoubtedly thanks to the ale running through their systems. Clive scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar head of silver hair, and pushed through the throngs of celebrants.
Jill was nowhere to be seen.
“Joshua!”
From the corner of his eye, he sees Jote charge his brother, throwing her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in the crook of his neck. Her shoulders shook as he laughed, returning her embrace and whispering reassurances as he stroked her hair. Joshua presses a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, cupping her cheeks and wiping the tears that fell from her eyes.
Gav was the next to step forward, tears welling in his good eye as he lightly knocked Clive on the chest. He couldn’t help but smile then, pulling the man in for a warm embrace.
By then, throngs of people had begun to swarm them, mugs of ale abandoned on the bar counter and tables, the realization that the heroes of the hour had returned to them in one piece starting a fresh bout of celebration. Yet Clive’s focus was elsewhere, mindlessly shaking hands and smiling at all who stepped forward. Otto weaved his way through Cursebreaker and civilians alike, clapping Clive on the back and nodding towards his quarters.
“She’s been in there since last night. No one’s had the heart to disturb her, but…maybe you’ll be able to break her from her mood, hm?”
Otto carefully extracts Clive from the crowd, steering him out and towards the stairs. He notes Mid seated on the floor next to the doorway, her head in her knees. A blanket is draped around her, and he takes in the way her shoulders rise and fall rhythmically. Just how long had she been sleeping here like this? A series of knocks drags Clive back to the present, and he feels his heart begin to race. There’s a long pause afterwards until finally the rustle of clothing and a faint sniffling can be heard from inside. Before he realizes it, Clive throws the door open, feeling his already fragile heart stutter at the sight before him.
Resting on the ground near the open side of his room is Jill, her body draped over Torgal’s as silent sobs wracked her form. His canine companion’s head shoots in his direction, the faint thump of his tail hitting the wooden deck below bringing a smile to his face. Torgal whines then, nuzzling Jill’s tearstained cheek and slipping out from beneath her. Wiping her face, she turns and freezes once she meets Clive’s eyes.
It was as if the world came to a halt. It was a cliche Clive had read time and time again in books and plays in his youth, and it was one that he found incredibly ridiculous. Yet as the cheering outside faded to nothing more than a faint humming in the background, and the moonlight shone around her and her alone, he couldn’t think of a more fitting phrase.
Jill rose on unsteady legs, cautiously approaching Clive as if he was a trick of the light. He moved to meet her, matching her every step, until they met in the middle, Jill gently cupping his cheeks while his hands moved to rest on her hips. Her thumb traced the scar on his cheek, felt the stubble lining his chin, stopping to hover over his lips. Upon feeling the ghost of his breath on her skin she let out a soft laugh, tears falling from her red, puffy eyes.
“Clive,” she said once, twice, thrice, as if to confirm he was truly there standing before her. He simply leaned into her touch, pressing a featherlight kiss to the palm of her hand and pulling her closer. The brush of her skin wasn’t enough, he needed to know her warmth, feel the rise and fall of her chest against his own to remind him that he was here and he was alive and they were together once again.
“The moon’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Jill laughs in disbelief, pulling Clive down for a kiss. It tastes of salt, but when she pulls back he leans in, kissing her again, and again, and again, desperate for her. Finally separating, gasping for breath, he rests his head atop her own, running his fingers through her hair and reveling in her warmth. However content they were to stay just like that, it seemed fate had other things planned for them.
“Clive! I knew you weren’t dead!”
Mid’s voice cut through the silence, and she all but charged them, practically tackling them to the ground. Laughter filled the air, and once again the Hideaway was alive, a new round of celebration kicking off with the rise of the moon.
Yet through it all Dion stood off to the side, enjoying the celebration in silence. They had won the day, and Ultima was no more. Magic was also gone, and the people of Valisthea would learn and adapt to this new normal. He would lead his people, and together they would–
His people. His home. All of it, gone. Where could he go? What did he have to return to? He was fully ready to die, his future damned the second Ultima took to the skies. He had nothing .
Loathe was he to ruin the celebration, and so he tried to sneak off, hoping Obolus would still be willing to ferry him back to the mainland. Yet before he could turn and disappear into the shadows of the Hideaway, a hand wrapped around his wrist, holding him in place. Taking a deep breath, he turned to politely dismiss himself from the conversation, only to feel the words die on his tongue.
“My prince,” Terence all but whispered, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Dion quickly scanned his form, but outside of a few bruises and dried blood, he was alright. He was standing , breathing, and here before him.
He never thought the day would come.
“I went to look for Kihel like you had asked, and we had barely made it out of the slums when…” Terence pauses to take a breath, releasing Dion’s hand only to cup his cheek, “I had nowhere else to turn, when I came upon Lord Rosfield. He pointed us in the direction of the Hideaway, saying this is where you’d return to once everything was over.”
Dion’s mind is still reeling, unable to process that they had all made it out alive. Clive, Joshua, himself, not to mention his loved ones… everyone had survived. It felt like a fairy tale ending, one he was unworthy of. Yet he couldn’t find any tears, simply pulling his lover close and kissing him gently, shakily running his fingers through his hair. Terence returned the kiss, tracing circles onto the prince’s cheek.
A piercing cry cut through the celebratory cheers, startling the duo, and Gav let out a soft curse. Muttering apologies, he makes his way towards Edda and the crying babe in her arms, dangling the charm he and Clive had crafted together in an attempt to soothe them.
The ragtag family that Cid the Outlaw had put together throughout the course of his journey was unparalleled, but it was one that would stick together and survive whatever would stand in their way. Clive knew this to be true as he looked out on the water, standing hand in hand with Jill. He gave a gentle squeeze which she returned as they took in the sunrise, soaking in its warm rays.
Sunrise was a promise of reunion. A promise that no matter how long the night, the sun would always rise, bringing forth a new day. Each and every soul in the Hideaway that morning embraced that new day, their new future, together, and with heads held high, would take that next step together.