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There was a stronger
buzz of magic within the cave, shaking her bones. It did not
surprise her, but the twisting, anxious sensation in the bottom of
her stomach did. When Cecil had spoke of visiting the summit, he had
said there was light and a voice, but he was magical, and had there
been some undercurrent of darkness there, he would have felt it. The
magic she felt around her was not goodness or light– it was
screaming within her ears, waiting to be released, a potent, awful
feeling that lodged itself in her throat. She could feel it as she
lay there, palms pressed to the crystal floor, and it was worming
its way through her head.
She saw things, flashes of memories– her mother's burning body, the
Land with Asura and Leviathan, and then the shrieking corpse of
Zemus, consumed by his hatred. But they were just memories, and even
though she could feel the magic twisting them and trying to yank
them out, it wasn't strong enough. There was a knot in her abdomen,
as if the darkness was trying to do something else, and she finally
managed to push herself upwards to her knees.
Reno's cry of alarm startled her back to reality. She stood, shaky
still. It felt as it there was a weight pressing against her
shoulders, trying to hold her down on the ground, and even when she
shrugged, the pressure did not alleviate. She started to move and
nearly tripped, but managed to stay upright as she ran to Reno's
side. He was hunched over on the ground, hands hand against his ears
as if to block out whatever it was that was attacking him, and his
grip was too strong for her to be able to pull his hands away from
his face.
"Reno!" she tried, but it was no use. He didn't even register her
voice. The weight against her shoulders increased, and she let out a
cry of frustration. There was a voice then, words against her face,
and she whirled to find the source, only to see that there wasn't
one.
"Can't you see them, girl?" someone said, a hoarse, feverish
whisper. She grimaced, and the knot in her stomach tightened, and
she kept her hands on Reno's shoulders, hoping her presence would
ground him eventually.
"See what?" she shouted back at the nothingness. There was a roar of
noise against her ears, like a tidal wave bearing down on her, and
she ducked her head in hopes that it would help. It didn't– the rush
bore the voices of hundreds, and they were screaming at her. Reno
let out another rattling cry, and then something clicked into place.
The magic of the summit had clearly been tampered with, for this was
not the benevolent spirit Cecil had encountered. Someone had
corrupted the stream of magic to the peak, and she felt a flash of
anger towards them for doing such a thing.
The voice didn't answer her question, and she didn't need it to. She
could feel the web of darkness searching through her mind, delving
into unpleasant memories. Whatever it was, however he had done it,
it was manifesting itself as all the horrible moments in her past.
She had a few, but none of them were by her own doing, and she
guessed that was why the magic didn't seem to be affecting her the
same way. The voice had said 'them'–
"Reno!" she tried again, shaking his shoulders. The rush was back
against her ears, howling at her. Her voice finally seemed to do
something; the Turk surged backwards, hands in front of his face as
if to blow everything out and keep it away, and he tumbled backwards
slightly, until he was against the crystal wall.
"Keep them away!" he cried out, and she looked back over her
shoulder. There was nothing there, only a translucent crystal wall.
"What are you doing to him?" she shouted, her voice reverberating
through the chamber. She could feel the magic around her swell, as
if the caster was frustrated at the lack of success on her mind.
There was the briefest of flashes, and she wasn't even sure if the
light was real or in the energy stream surrounding them, and when
she raised her hands involuntarily to cover her eyes, there was a
spark of connection. Somehow, she could feel the caster's thoughts,
tap into his mind through the current. The magic he had cast was
powerful and dark, very dark, the purpose to attack beings he saw as
enemies and manifest as figures of those–
–those they had killed.
Rydia fell backwards with a gasp, the connection severed, and landed
hard on the crystal floor. She lay wheezing, body so wrought with
energy it was nearly convulsing, and she understood why the magic
had not worked against her. She had never taken a human life; even
Zemus, whom she had fought against, had been consumed by his own
hatred rather than her hand. She had horrid memories, but no regret.
A strangled sob lodged itself in her throat, unable to escape. She
could still hear Reno's cries from behind her, bordering on anguish,
and she could only imagine what he had to be seeing– clearly, the
caster had expected the Turks to enter the cave.
She knew what that meant, and she could not wrap her mind around it.
The weight was still pressing down on her, but she knew the caster
was no longer in the crystal room. Somehow, she managed to get
herself upright again, and she stumbled to Reno's shaking form and
grabbed his arms, yanking hard. The currents stopped at the door,
and as long as she could get out, the magic would be unable to touch
them. There were tears running down her face that she had no memory
of crying, voices shouting in her head– her mother's dying shriek
echoing in her ears. She kept pulling, because the door was only a
few steps away, and she thought she might have screamed.
When they fell through the door, there were no more monsters
outside, and the sun felt so welcome against her skin she could have
wept for the beauty of it. She was still trembling, almost unable to
push herself up again, and for a long moment she just stayed as she
was, shaking against the ground, sobs welling in her chest.
"Was he there?" Tseng asked. His voice seemed louder than usual, and
it almost hurt her ears. She shook her head, and then there was a
hand on her arm, pulling her up to her feet.
She recoiled instantly, falling back with such force that she nearly
fell over again, and both Tseng and Rude looked confused.
"Don't touch me!" she cried, teetering wildly. "Don't touch me, I
know what you are!"
"What–?" Tseng started, and she did not give him time to finish.
"You're assassins!" she exclaimed, tears running down and gathering
at the corners of her lips, tasting like salt and bitterness and
guilt all at the same time. "You kill for a living, don't touch me!"
The spell was pounding in her head, in tune with her heartbeat, and
she saw Zemus again, his burning form streaming across her vision.
Everything was going very red, and she didn't think she could
breathe anymore, and it was all too much, all at once. She tried to
suck in air, but there was nothing around her, nothing save for the
energy that still clung to the recesses of her mind. She was dimly
aware of someone speaking, though if they were directing their
speech at her, she didn't know, and she tried to gasp. There was a
moment of still, and then a moment when she thought her chest would
explode, and her vision went from red to black as she passed out.
-------
She dreamt.
There were only snippets of thoughts, times and places from her
past. She saw the Land again, shimmering with magic, and Asura and
Leviathan inside the library. She saw Golbez summoning his wyrm pet,
coiled and seething with dark energy. She saw her mother baking
bread at the hearth, hair piled back in a messy bun. She didn't know
if it was remnants of the spell or simply her own mind, and it
didn't truly matter. She was too exhausted to react to the
nostalgia, too weary to let the rage of loss take over again. She
just fell through the memories as if she was falling into the sea,
and the tide was lapping over her.
--------
The first thing she recognized was the familiar buzz of insects once
again. Her entire body ached, as if she'd been hit with a Flare
spell, and she couldn't help the warbling moan that escaped her
mouth when she stirred. Waking up wasn't usually painful, and when
it was, it was never a good sign. Her arms and legs felt heavy, like
they were full of sand. She cracked one eye open to see the blue
tarp over her vision.
It was dark out, giving the tarp an almost navy appearance, and she
opened the other eye when she was sure the sunlight wouldn't assault
her senses. There was a figure next to her, sitting against the
trunk of a tree. Reno didn't say anything when she turned away from
him, and he didn't need to– the disgust had to be written all over
her features.
"Where are we?" she asked, settling on neutral ground.
"The base of the mountain," he answered. It made sense. The Turks
could go no further without an airship or knowledge of where the
nearest settlement was, and it was considerably less dangerous in
the trees surrounding the peak's base then it was on the mountain
pass itself. Rydia shifted, trying to move the rock that was poking
her in the shoulder blade.
There was a long moment of silence.
"Does Cecil know?" she asked finally, voice loud in the quiet of
night. "What you are?"
"The King?" Reno asked. She didn't respond, and she couldn't see him
with her back facing his direction, but she could hear a bit of a
shuffle that sounded as if he was shifting positions. "No."
She was glad to know that her old comrade had not done anything
deliberate. She swallowed back the hard lump in her throat, and her
stomach growled angrily. It had been a long while since she'd eaten
anything, and her fatigue was the price she paid for it.
When it was obvious the Turk was not going anywhere, she began to
feel resentful. The spell had loosened memories in her mind, and
reliving them was not something that she particularly enjoyed doing.
"When I was six, my mother was killed," she said, softly, unaware at
first that she was speaking at all. "It was– it was the attack that
killed off my people. It was planned and executed, even if how it
happened was an accident by an innocent bystander. She–"
She had to stop, because the emotion was choking her, and she lifted
a hand to wipe errant tears from her cheeks. Reno didn't say
anything, and she couldn't tell if his silence was angering her or
pacifying her.
"How many mothers have you killed?" she whispered into the trees.
"How many fathers or brothers or sisters?"
There was another long period of quiet.
"I didn't kill your mother," he said, and his voice was hoarse.
"No," she agreed, softly. "You didn't."
She sat up. It hurt to move, but it was better than dealing with the
memories and feelings in her head. The tarp fluttered slightly in
the breeze, and when she stood, there was another rush of pain from
her body, especially when she shifted her weight to her injured
knee. She walked past Reno and stopped near the edge of the
makeshift tent.
"Get the others," she said. "We can get to Mysidia by morning."
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