deemoyza_archive | We Are Cinders From a Fire Burning Long Ago (Final Fantasy VI)

Title: We Are Cinders From a Fire Burning Long Ago (14,255 words)
Chapters: 5
Fandom: Final Fantasy VI
Rating/Warnings: Mature / Violence, sexual content
Character(s): Terra Branford, Celes Chere
Relationships: Celes/Terra
Summary: In the four years since Kefka's defeat, Celes' body has adjusted to the lack of magic in the world, but she still feels the emptiness in her bones where it used to be. Having taken up a job as mercenary, she tries to find her place in a world that no longer seems to have a use for her.

Meanwhile, Terra watches Mobliz rebuild and repopulate, and many of the children in her care are adopted out to new families. She knows that this is the ideal outcome for the children, but she can't help but worry: if her love for the children is what kept her in this world, what would happen should the children forget about her?

Reunited during one of Celes' missions, Celes and Terra head back to South Figaro, where they both accept mercenary assignments for a living. When Setzer visits them with an offer to act as guides and guards for a group of adventurers scavenging the ruins of Kefka's Tower, Celes and Terra find a remnant of a bygone time that will force them to admit their fears and test their will to push forward.

Chapters

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5

Chapter 1

When the merchant ship docked in South Figaro, Celes stood next to the captain and watched the crew disembark, each member as healthy and whole as they were when they set sail three weeks ago, then silently extended her hand for the remaining half of her payment. The captain nodded and dropped a bag full of gil into her palm.

“I’m afraid a ship’s safe passage must be a mercenary’s bore,” he said, the slightest grin spreading his thick whiskers, “but thank you for your service, nonetheless.”

“I’m relieved that it was an uneventful voyage, for your sake.” Celes weighed the bag in her hand. Over the years, she’d become good at approximating the value of gil by weight alone. This payment was sufficient. “If you need a guard for any upcoming shipments, you know where to find me.”

The captain replied, but his words were lost beneath the creaking of the gangplank under Celes’ boots. She shoved the gil into the heavy leather bag slung across her body, then weaved through the crowd at the harbor and headed for her house on the edge of town.

Four years had passed since she and her companions defeated Kefka, and three-and-a-half since she’d been well enough to work on her own again. For as the celebrations ended, she'd felt the first twinge of a craving, and recognized the emptiness left in her bones from the disappearance of magic. She had put on a brave face then, soldiering on through the nausea and tremors and cold sweats, smiling graciously when people thanked her for her role in saving the world. She couldn’t let whatever she was feeling jeopardize that; after all, how many people got a chance to start over, a chance to go from despised general to hero? If the public had seen the chaos within her at the time—the desperation, the pain, the slow-simmering rage at the experiments that led to her suffering—she doubted they would be so generous.

As the weeks passed, her condition deteriorated to the point where she could barely eat and could only sleep an hour or two every night. She couldn’t hold a weapon, or even a simple cup, for the trembling in her hands, and her body felt as if it had been hollowed out, scoop by agonizing scoop, leaving only a mantle of skin on powerless bones, like a cloak draped on a coat rack.

Her friends expressed concern. Terra, now the rosy-cheeked picture of health, suggested several herbal concoctions she’d learned to make in Mobliz; Sabin suggested some fresh mountain air; Edgar offered to have her seen by the best physicians money could buy; and even Relm chipped in with a jug of wine stolen from Strago’s basement. But only Setzer dared mention the word “withdrawal,” having witnessed it in the alleys behind pubs and in the streets of Zozo.

“Your body gets so used to having something,” he said, “and when you cut it off like that, well…nothing good comes of it.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Relm scrambled onto the couch next to Celes and clapped her hands over Celes’ ears. “Celes is going to be just fine, mister!”

Celes winced and gently pried Relm’s hands free. “He might be onto something,” she said. “Setzer, you said you’ve seen this before. Are all of these symptoms part of it?”

Setzer hiked an eyebrow. “All? What else have you got?”

Celes rattled off the list of ailments she’d suffered in the past weeks, and Setzer nodded along with each of them.

“Nausea, tremors, weight loss. No hallucinations?”

“Not yet.”

“Not ever, let’s hope. But yes, I’d say yours is a fairly likely case of withdrawal.” He gave a half-hearted grin. “So, what are you coming down from? Was it worth it?”

“Magic.” Even though Terra barely whispered the word, it landed on Celes’ ears with an echo, a certainty that none of her friends’ other suggestions had carried. Terra looked up at her through long lashes. “You’re missing the magic that was in you, aren’t you?”

“By gods, I’d never considered that!” Edgar smacked his forehead. “Your infusions! That means—how long have you been feeling like this?"

“I didn’t notice at first,” Celes said, threading her fingers together and rolling her thumbs one over the other, avoiding Edgar’s stare. “I guess I was caught up in the celebration like everyone else. It started slowly: a headache, a stomachache, pain in my arms and legs. I didn’t think it would get this bad. I thought…I thought I could handle it.”

“How old were you when the infusions began?” Terra asked.

“Young. Five or six, I think.”

“You’ve had magic for most of your life. No wonder you’re missing it.”

“What about you?”

“No, not at all. What happened back at the tower…I was fully human by the time you all caught me. There wasn’t a drop of magic in me for me to miss.”

“I miss it, and I didn’t even have any inside of me,” Relm piped up. She leaned forward and looked up at Celes. “So, I know it’s gotta be rough for you. Isn’t there anything we can do?”

All eyes turned to Setzer. He shrugged. “Not much. Celes’ body needs to adjust to the lack of magic. All we can do is be here for her, take care of her.”

“Take care of me?” Indignation rose in Celes’ throat, more bitter than the bile she’d grown accustomed to. “I am not a child, nor am I helpless! I simply need some rest, and a mild meal, and I’ll be fi—” She closed her eyes against the light in the room, suddenly too bright, and swayed with the movement in her head, then collapsed against the cushions.

She woke up three days later and remained in bed for another month. She didn’t remember many details of that time, only that the hallucinations Setzer mentioned finally happened, and that her body seemed to reject itself. She did remember sheets soaked with sweat, a throat raw from bile and screaming, and the pressure of restraints on her wrists and ankles. By the time she fully came to, she was unrestrained and clean, if merely a shadow of the fearsome warrior she’d once been. She’d been set up in a small house in South Figaro, which Edgar had built for her, and as soon as she was able to walk on her own again, she set about repaying the debt.

She began by collecting herbs and berries in the countryside and selling them at the market, then ventured to test her skills again and hunt. As her strength returned, she wandered farther from the town, taking odd jobs here and there, until she gained a reputation as a low-level mercenary, dispatching bandits and encroaching creatures alike and serving as a guard to traveling merchants and the occasional dignitary.

It paid well enough for her to earn a decent living, to furnish her house in the manner she desired, and to repay Edgar with money he never accepted, but which she kept in a box beneath the floorboards until she could find a way to force it into his hand. Outside of the assignments she undertook, her life was quiet, if lonely. Her friends visited when they were in the area, but Celes spent most days in the company of the plants in her garden or a strong pot of coffee beside the fireplace. The world had changed around her twice in recent years, and she still wasn't sure where she fit in it anymore.

As she rounded a bend in the road toward her house, she noticed a chocobo tethered near her front door, languidly picking at a pile of greens at its feet. It wore a sturdy saddle over a deep blue saddlecloth emblazoned with the Figaro royal crest. A messenger, no doubt; perhaps Edgar had an assignment for her. If that was the case, she hoped it could wait a few days. After three weeks at sea, she was looking forward to a rest, as well as to tending her garden and her home. She stopped beside the chocobo and petted its neck as she called out to the messenger.

"I'm home," she said, frowning. "Where are you?" It wasn't like royal messengers to actively seek out their recipients; usually, they waited by the door, or slipped a note beneath it. Celes called out again, and received no answer save for a rustling coming from the side of the house. Worried that the messenger had been set upon by bandits or worse, she unsheathed her sword and crept toward the noise. When no one moved to meet her, she leapt around the corner, her blade in front of her, and sent Edgar stumbling backwards into the bushes, shouting and cursing.

"What the hell are you doing?" Celes demanded, jabbing her sword in the air to accentuate her words. "I could've killed you!"

"You might yet," Edgar panted, grasping his chest, "with fright. Could you…put that away, please?"

"You still haven't told me why you were skulking around my house."

"It's a long ride from Figaro Castle, and quite a trek back to the town from here, what with my chocobo having already begun to eat, and…nature called."

"Edgar! In my garden?"

"No! In the woods." Edgar rose and brushed leaves and twigs from his clothes, ignoring Celes' glare. "I'm not a barbarian."

"You're the king. What if someone had seen you?"

"This far from town, it's unlikely. And if they did, well, a king is but a man, with all the needs and drives that entails."

Celes rolled her eyes and sheathed her sword. "You haven't changed a bit."

"I find it's best to not tinker with perfection." He winked. "But enough about myself. How are you doing? From your reaction just now, I'd say your latest mission kept your skills sharp."

"Only my surveillance skills. The voyage was uneventful."

"Good to hear. Have you got anything else lined up?"

"Not at the moment." They walked to the front of the house, where Celes opened the door and invited Edgar inside. "Pardon the dust; three weeks' absence leaves its mark on a place."

Edgar sat at the small wooden table and watched as Celes put her belongings away. "I'd like to offer you an assignment. It won't last as long as your latest mission did, but I'll pay you twice, three times as much, just name your price."

"Frankly, that sounds a little desperate. What's so important about this mission?"

"I'm sending an envoy to Mobliz, and I'd like you to act as his security detail."

"Mobliz?" Terra's face flashed through Celes' mind at the mere mention of the town. In the years since Terra had dedicated herself to caring for the orphans there, Mobliz had slowly been repopulated and rebuilt, and was now a functional port town. "What business does Figaro have there?"

"Plenty, I hope." Edgar leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "It's a prime location for trade, of both raw materials and luxury goods, considering its relative proximity to both Jidoor and the Veldt. Establishing a presence there would help secure a valuable worldwide trade route for Figaro." He looked down and jutted out his lower lip. "And maybe alleviate the situation with Tzen."

"What's happening there?"

"Oh, a bit of economic saber-rattling. They've already established an outpost in Maranda to the west, and are moving toward Nikeah and Mobliz. The only problem with the fall of the Gestahlian Empire was the vacuum it left behind. The Empire conscripted nearly all the young men of Tzen, and as those who survived went back home, their comrades joined them, and the region looks prime to set itself up as an international power."

"So, you want to beat them to Mobliz." Celes sat down across from him. "I'm not sure I'd be up to such a race, so soon after my last assignment."

"There is no race. They've likely already reached Mobliz. But with their current expansion, Tzen has stretched their resources thin. Figaro can offer Mobliz a much sweeter deal." He relaxed and smiled at her. "So, what do you say? Help an old friend out, and take the chance to visit another one?"

"It has been a while since I've seen Terra."

"She asks of you, you know, in her letters to me."

Celes cocked an eyebrow. "Why? We write each other regularly."

"She believes you're holding back, for her sake. You have to admit, stoicism is one of your defining traits. She just wants to know you're all right."

"Then perhaps I ought to show her, myself. I accept your offer, Edgar. How soon does your envoy leave?"

"Three days. Rest up, Celes, and take care of yourself. I'll see you then." He rose and moved toward the door.

"Thanks, I will." A grin played across Celes' lips. "But before you go, are you sure you don't need to make use of the facilities? After all, it is, as you said, a long ride to Figaro Castle."

"Ah, blast me for my honesty! I'll never live that down, will I?"

"No."

Edgar chuckled. "Fair enough. Thank you for your offer, Celes, but I think I'm fine for the journey back. See you at the harbor in three days' time!"

Celes leaned against the door frame and watched him ride away. An envoy to Mobliz. That region of the world was hardly contested territory, yet; Edgar could have just as easily sent several soldiers as security detail. Did Terra intimate in her letters to him that she wanted to see Celes, or did he simply think it would be good for them to visit? Or perhaps it had nothing to do with them at all, and everything to do with keeping a low profile. At any rate, just the mention of Mobliz and the thought of seeing Terra again lifted Celes' spirit. As gentle as she was fierce, Terra had a way of calming Celes' heart, of making her feel seen and heard. She was the only one who understood what it was like to become a different person in a world without magic, the only one who felt the significance of its loss, even if she didn't miss it, herself. And when, years after its disappearance, Celes' bones still ached for its power, Terra's voice, her touch, and her eyes, remained the only salve Celes knew.

Yet, she'd never told Terra any of this. She simply didn't know how to. How could she admit to still being vulnerable? How could she place the burden of her comfort on Terra's shoulders?

Edgar was right; she did have a tendency to keep things to herself. Maybe it was time to change that.

As she closed the door and stepped farther into her dim and silent house, however, her resolve faded. Though she'd faced down danger and despair and the end of the world as she knew it, opening her heart, even to a dear friend, remained the most frightening thing Celes could ever think to do.

Chapter 2

Terra pulled a bedsheet off the clothesline, folded it, and dropped it into the laundry basket at her feet, noticing how much emptier the basket was now than it had been only a month ago. Quite like the orphanage itself. She hated to admit that she missed the noise and the bustle of children clamoring for food or playtime or a chance to help her with her chores—adoption was the best outcome for the children, after all—but she couldn't shake the pain that struck her heart every morning that she woke to another child gone to a new home. As the house grew quieter, a tiny bolt of melancholy worked its way deeper into her spirit, leaving behind an empty space upon which dread seemed to encroach ever more quickly.

She loved the children, and she wanted nothing but the best for them. What would happen, though, if the children were to forget her? What would happen if their new families replaced her in their hearts? Love had kept her in this world even when half of her had vanished; if she lost the children's love, would her human half vanish as well? She moved onto the next sheet, pulling off the clothespins with undue ferocity, her fears casting a chill throughout her body that not even the sunlight could dispel.

"Auntie Terra, Auntie Terra!" Lili, Duane and Katarin's daughter, burst through the back door of the orphanage, a jam-laden slice of bread flapping in her right hand. "Someone's looking for you!"

Terra creased a fold in the sheet. "Who are they?" she asked. "What do they look like?"

"I dunno. Mama jus' told me to tell you. They got off a ship."

"They're still at the harbor?" Lili nodded. "Were they armed? Did they have swords?"

"Dunno. Mama didn't say." Lili took a bite of bread. Terra sighed. Four-year-olds were not the greatest sources of information. But if Katarin was willing to have Lili fetch Terra for these visitors, then the visitors must not seem threatening, at least. Not wanting to take any chances, however, Terra fetched her sword on the way out. Her apprehension melted away, however, when she noticed the woman in light armor, a thick blonde braid draped over her shoulder, talking with Katarin.

"Celes," she cried, breaking into a run. "Celes, it's you!"

"Indeed, it is," Celes replied with a laugh. "I'm surprised you still recognized me!"

"It hasn't been that long. Besides, I'd recognize you anywhere. What brings you to Mobliz?"

"I'm escorting an envoy from Figaro." Celes gestured to the man dressed in fine clothes standing just behind her. "This is Mr. Scardino. He's here to speak with the locals about a trade deal."

"Oh, certainly!" Terra introduced herself to Mr. Scardino. "Whenever you're ready, I can introduce you to the shopkeepers."

"Thank you," Mr. Scardino replied, settling a thick book into the crook of his arm, "the sooner, the better. Celes, if you will take my belongings to the inn..."

He said no more to Terra en route to the first shop, and Terra thought the better of crowding him during his negotiations. She stood outside the doorway and watched Celes approach, looking at the bustling merchant street.

"This place really bounced back," Celes said when she reached the shop. "Impressive."

"Yes. It all happened so quickly. One day, a family arrived and began restoring one of the damaged houses. Another came soon after, with several more on their heels. Pretty soon, they were clearing land for more houses and shops." Terra sighed. "I'm really grateful to the new townspeople. They helped us rebuild the orphanage, and many of them adopted the children into their own families. Mobliz has been given a second chance at life; I know what that feels like, and I'm so happy for the town, and for the children."

"But?"

"But what?"

"There's something else, isn't there?"

"What makes you say that?"

"Your face." Celes smirked. "I can tell when you're worried, when you're holding back."

Terra put her hands on her hips. "And I can tell the same about you. How are you doing, Celes, really? Are you feeling all right? You're not overworking yourself, are you?"

"You've become a full-fledged mother hen in these past few years, haven't you?"

"I suppose I have," Terra admitted with a laugh. "I can't help it; I worry about people. I want people to be happy, to be safe. Especially the people I care most about."

Celes' shoulders stiffened and she turned to watch a pair of women walk along the street, baskets in hand, whispering and laughing with one another. She let a few moments pass in silence, then cast Terra a sidelong glance. "Just don't forget about yourself in the process."

Typical Celes. So frosty, so practical, so astute. Terra looked down, first at her toes, then at Celes' hand. She had an inexplicable urge to seize her hand then and there, to squeeze her strong fingers between her own and tell her every fear that ran through her mind, to seek out the practical solutions Celes would come up with. To seek out the connection they'd shared four years ago. To seek out the warmth beneath the frost, the pulse that betrayed her humanity, despite all her attempts to shove it out of the light.

Instead, Terra adjusted the sash on her dress. "Will you be staying long?"

"For tonight, at least. The rest depends on Scardino."

"Is there any chance I could persuade him to join us for dinner? The orphanage is so empty these days, guests are especially welcome."

"I'm afraid not. He takes his meals privately, from the kitchen of wherever he's staying. He's rather paranoid."

"That's too bad. How in the world does he handle travelling?"

"Not well at all. He demands that I check the ship's cabin for any vermin before he'll enter. Every time."

"Oh dear." Terra leaned close and dropped her voice. "He sounds worse than a child."

"He is. I thought Edgar was exaggerating when he pulled me aside to tell me of his quirks, but, unfortunately…" She let the sentence trail off with a shrug. Terra laughed.

"I will be able to spend time with you before you leave, though? It's been a while, and there are…some things I'd like to discuss."

"Absolutely. I should have a few hours free in the evening, provided he finds no creatures for me to exterminate in his room." Celes laughed along with Terra this time, before quickly snapping to attention when Scardino called her name. She joined him at the counter, thanked the shopkeeper for his time, and escorted Scardino to the next business down the road. Terra watched them from the door, unaware of the shopkeeper's approach until he cursed under his breath.

"Can you believe the gall of that man?" he said. "What's Figaro playing at?"

Terra turned to face him. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't hear anything going on just now? That Scardino's trying to set up trade deals between us and Figaro. Preferential stock, trade routes, pricing. Nobody's gonna tell me what to sell and when, let alone to who!"

"There's competition for trade these days. Not long ago, a representative from Tzen was talking about something similar."

"Now, Tzen, I have no problem with. They came back from the ashes—lost their royal family, most of their sons got roped into the Empire's army—they know what suffering is! And if there's anything I can do to help them come back stronger, I'm willing to do it. Figaro, on the other hand—" he made a dismissive gesture "—their king played both sides, kissed Kefka's boots to save his own hide. They can rot, for all I care."

"That's not true! Edgar never bowed to Kefka. He helped the Returners, and he helped defeat Kefka for good."

"Edgar? Sounds like you're pretty chummy with the king. Come to think of it, you were pretty chummy with that guard, too." The shopkeeper placed a hand on Terra's back and gently guided her onto the street. "You know, maybe you better get outta here for a bit, just 'til my temper cools. You're a good lady, Terra, and I don't wanna say anything I might regret."

"But you don't know the whole story! Edgar and all of Figaro were—" Terra scowled as he closed the door in her face. She watched him walk back to the counter, fists clenched at her sides. How could he not know about Edgar helping save the world? Or had he known, and simply forgotten? It hadn't occurred to Terra that acts of valor could be so easily obscured by time; she'd made it a point to recount her story to the children often, and even to the first wave of resettling townsfolk, to keep the memory and its significance fresh. But how many of those individuals even remembered it now?

She turned away from the store, clenching her fists tighter as an icy dread settled in the pit of her stomach. If heroism was so easily forgotten, what about love? How quickly did love transform into mere acquaintance, into indifference, into nothing? And when the loved forgot, what happened to those who loved them? Did they find enough love to give to someone else? Did they stop loving altogether?

Or did they simply disappear?

Terra bit her lip and blinked back tears, then hurried back to the orphanage, to the clotheslines out back, not stopping to reply to Duane's greeting, and brushing right past Katarin and the children in the kitchen. She ran to the last bedsheet on the line and buried her face in the fabric, pulling it down with her as she sank to her knees beneath the midday sun, crying.

"I shouldn't go far," Celes said, looking back at the door to the inn. "I was hired to guard him."

"Don't worry." Terra closed her fingers around Celes' wrist and pulled her forward, through some bushes and down a short slope to the edge of the water. Celes didn't resist. "Mobliz is a quiet town, a good town. Mr. Scardino is perfectly safe."

"If you had told me that a year ago, I would've believed you. But the people we encountered today seemed to be on-edge. The man at the armor shop was downright hostile toward Scardino, saying he wanted no business with Figaro."

Terra picked her way across the rocks and until she found one large and flat enough for her and Celes to sit on, then scrambled up and hugged her knees to her chest. "I heard something similar from the first shopkeeper he spoke to. It doesn't mean any of them would actually hurt him, though. They wouldn't want the trouble."

"I suppose you're right." Celes hoisted herself onto the rock with a grunt. "Was there always this hostility toward Figaro? Or has something happened that I'm not aware of?"

"No, I think it's just a case of new people bringing their own ideas to the town. Some have no opinion on Figaro, while others think Edgar was loyal to Kefka, and the problem is, that second group is louder. I've told people otherwise, I told the children and the new townsfolk everything that we did—you, me, Edgar, everyone in our little group—but…they forget." She drew a shaky breath, tears stinging her eyes. "How can they forget, Celes? How does all of that just disappear?"

"I don't think it's on purpose. I think it's simply human nature. It was a bad time for everyone. We all lived through our own personal hell…" She fell silent and looked out at the sea. Terra followed her gaze and watched the moon's reflection dance along the waves. "We remember what's important to us," Celes continued, softly, "and that story's always going to be different for everyone."

"What do you remember?"

"I remember being blinded by power. I remember being branded a traitor. I remember finding you in the last place I ever thought you'd be." She squeezed Terra's shoulder. "I remember…loneliness. Absolute, empty, unending loneliness. Despair. Hopelessness. And then I found you, again, in the last place I ever thought you'd be."

Terra leaned into the touch and kept going, until her head rested against Celes' shoulder. She slid closer and Celes' arm drifted down hers, off her elbow, to nestle against her waist. Terra hooked her arm around Celes' back, drinking in the warmth of her body and the security of being held by someone, then looked up at the stars, picking out the constellations she'd learned about from others, and those she'd imagined for herself.

"I thought it was the last place I'd ever have to be," she said at last. "It felt like home. Katarin and Duane and Lili, and all of the children, they were my family. Mobliz was my town. But it's changed. Many of the children have been adopted—and I am so happy for them, believe me—and my life has just gotten quieter, emptier. All the while, the town keeps growing, and the people have such different ideas and memories than we have."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"I know. I can't help worrying, though. About forgetting. About other people forgetting things. About what we went through, about…love."

"What about it?"

"Love is what brought me back when magic disappeared from the world. It's what made me human. If it goes away, if the children forget—"

"Terra, don't be—"

"What'll happen to me?"

Celes turned toward her and brushed a lock of hair away from her face. "Nothing. Nothing will happen to you. The children won't forget you—"

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because you're Mama Terra."

"They have new mamas now."

"That doesn't mean those women will replace you. I don't think love works like that. I don't think it's something you just forget."

"You don't 'think' it does. You're not certain."

"Terra." With a chuckle, Celes pressed her lips to Terra's forehead. Light and warm like the brush of a butterfly's wings, but lasting much longer, the kiss sent a shiver down Terra's spine and a spark to her heart. She wanted so desperately to tilt her face up and capture Celes' lips with her own, to drown her fears and worries in the heat of her mouth. She remained still, however, and let the sea breeze cool the spot of the kiss once Celes pulled away. "I can't know. I like to think, though, that time and distance have no effect on it. It comes from somewhere else, somewhere with a much longer memory than our minds. At least, that's what I've heard others say about love."

"If that's the case," Terra said, sighing as Celes' hand left her waist and slid up her back, to comb her fingers through Terra's hair, "I'd like to test it. Celes, when you leave, can I come along?"

"You want to leave Mobliz? What about the orphanage?"

"There isn't very much work there. Duane and Katarin can manage. I need to do something different, see other places." She whimpered as Celes undid the barrette in her hair and gently massaged her scalp. That fingers capable of killing could glide so softly across her skin astonished Terra and reminded her of her own duality of mother figure and warrior, a duality she had all but suppressed as of late. "I love the children, and I love Mobliz, but I realize I've made it too large a part of my identity. I'm more than what I've become. Please, Celes, let me come along. I can still fight, and I've learned plenty of useful medicines and treatments here."

"If you're sure, I'd be happy to bring you back with me. Do you have any particular destination in mind?"

"Wherever you're headed is fine by me." She laid her head against Celes' chest,. "Thank you." She listened to Celes' heartbeat and stared out at the ocean and the stars, letting the motion of Celes' breathing and her fingers combing through her hair relax her to the point of drowsiness. Her eyelids grew heavy, and she thought she heard Celes say something, but she was already slipping into a dream of the South Figaro harbor, and what might await her there.

Chapter 3

"Sit still," Terra ordered, applying a pungent mixture of herbs and oils to the cut on Celes' arm. Celes sucked air through her teeth as the medicine worked its way into the wound, stinging like a swarm of angry bees.

"Is it supposed to hurt this much?" she asked. "If I'd have known, I'd have been better cutting off my arm and finishing the job."

"Don't be so dramatic. It hurts because it's fighting infection." Terra cleared away the mortar and pestle she'd used to prepare the salve. "I thought you said these missions you go on aren't very dangerous."

"Usually, they're not. But dispatching a band of thieves by yourself, you're sure to earn a few scrapes."

"Now you're understating the wound. Seriously, though, you have to be more careful! We can't just call up a healing spell anymore."

Celes looked away with a huff. Terra, undeterred, began bandaging her arm. "Maybe if you let me help you," she went on, "you wouldn't earn any 'scrapes.' I didn't leave Mobliz just to be a burden on you."

Celes flinched, Terra's words stinging worse than the medicine. "You're not a burden. I enjoy having you around. You're easy to talk to, you're a wonderful cook, and a very devoted nurse."

"In other words, Mama Terra."

"That's not what I meant."

Terra chuckled. "I don't mind being any of those things to you, Celes, but I need to be something more. To myself, for myself. I need to be the warrior I once was, the adventurer I've longed to be. Let me work with you. I promise you won't regret it!"

Celes cracked a grin. "You make a convincing case. All right, next mission, you're coming along. I hope you're ready."

"Of course I'm ready! I believe you've forgotten who you're talking to. I seem to remember keen competition between us when we were younger, and I was rarely the one chasing."

"That was then."

"You're right, I wasn't nearly as strong yet." Terra winked.

"Oh really? Let's see how ready you are!" Celes picked up a wooden spoon and swung it at Terra, who leaned back to avoid it. Another swing, another dodge. "Well, your reflexes are still good. What about your attack?"

In response, Terra ducked beneath the next swing and shot out her arm to touch Celes' stomach. "Got you!" Before Celes could say anything, Terra began to tickle her, adding her other hand and moving her fingers over Celes' stomach and up her ribs. Celes curled in on herself, pleading for Terra to stop, low giggles cutting into her words. As best as she could, she returned the favor, skimming her fingertips over Terra's shoulders to the base of her throat and pressing gently into the hollows of her collarbone. Soon, both women were shrieking with laughter and squirming in their chairs, neither extending any mercy to the other until they fell to the floor, moments apart.

Still laughing, Terra rolled into Celes' arms and planted a kiss on her cheek, hot and wet and forceful. In the heat of competition, Celes responded by kissing her full on the mouth. Terra reciprocated and their laughter faded, gradually replaced by an urgency that had never colored their interactions before. Terra's hands slid over Celes' body, one coming to rest at her waist, the other traveling up the nape of her neck, to pull her closer as she parted her lips. Celes instinctively accepted the invitation, slipping her lower lip between Terra's and sucking gently, while her hand traveled to the small of Terra's back and pulled her hips against her own.

They had kissed once before, at a celebration banquet shortly after their victory over Kefka, both of them drunk on wine and giddy with relief, but it was nothing like this. That kiss had been clumsy and rough, a clash of noses and teeth, uncoordinated hands pawing each other's bodies but never finding the right spots to hold. This kiss, on the other hand, was like a strong drink, overtaking Celes’ thoughts and filling her veins with liquid fire, making every moment she and Terra parted for air an eternity of torture. She simply could not get close enough, and neither, apparently, could Terra, who hooked a leg over Celes' hip and ground herself against Celes' thigh, slowly but insistently, her fingers curling in Celes' hair and pressing into her back.

Celes groaned and shifted, her hips moving of their own accord, seeking out the kind of friction Terra seemed to be enjoying. She found it when Terra's other leg slipped between hers, and their kisses became more erratic as they both chased the pleasurable sensations flowing through them. Terra broke away completely with an audible gasp and nuzzled into Celes' neck, her breath hot on Celes' skin. Celes held her and moaned into her shoulder, a knot of tension forming deep within her, driving her movements and obscuring everything else outside of her and Terra's entwined bodies and the delicious pressure building between her legs.

"Celes," Terra whined, her breath coming short and her nails digging into Celes' skin. Her whine continued, incoherent, and she clasped her thighs tightly around Celes', freezing against her for a moment before her entire body bucked wildly with release. Celes gripped her throughout it, her own body close to climax. She panted, she ground, she flicked out her tongue to taste the sweat on Terra's skin, and finally, she pushed herself over the edge with a guttural moan, her muscles clenching and eyelids fluttering. When at last the sensation passed, she collapsed onto the floorboards, gulping down air, warm and drowsy.

"What," Terra asked, running a hand through her hair, "just happened?"

Celes grasped Terra's other hand and raised it to her lips. "Something I wouldn't mind doing again."

"But how did it happen? One second it was a friendly competition, then…"

"You didn't enjoy it?"

"Oh, I did! Very much!" Terra giggled. "And I'll grant that you're better at that than I am. But what does it mean, for us?"

"Does it have to mean anything? Or can it simply be two friends enjoying being alive?" Celes smiled. "I haven't felt this invigorated, this connected, in years. Thank you, Terra."

"You're welcome?" Terra sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. "I got plenty out of it, too, though. I've never been held the way you held me. It was nice. I wouldn't mind feeling it again."

"Then come here." Celes opened her arms and Terra lay back down in them. As hesitant as she was to admit it, even to herself, holding another person so close was a comfort to her, too. There was a sense of safety in someone else's warmth, affection in their touch. A feeling of…love? While it bordered on what people described as love, she wasn't ready to use that word, herself. Love wasn't simply physical pleasure; it was sacrifice, vulnerability, acceptance. And while she could very much accept Terra the way that she was, Celes wasn't sure she was prepared to do the rest.

So, she let the feeling linger without a name, for the time being, and enjoyed it for what it was, a deeper connection with a trusted friend. She felt Terra's breathing become slow and even, and her own drowsiness caught up with her. She shifted her weight off of her bandaged arm and snuggled against Terra, and the two of them drifted off to sleep right there on the floor, just beyond the reach of the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window.

Terra took down another bandit on the road and stood with one foot on his back, her sword pointed toward his neck. She looked at Celes, who was inspecting the body of the bandit she'd killed. "What do you suggest?" Terra asked.

"The order said, 'dead or alive.' I find they're much less trouble when they're dead."

Terra nodded and stuck her sword into the bandit's neck. His screams turned to gurgling and stopped a few seconds later. She withdrew her blade and shook the blood from it. "I don't recall there being so many bandits around South Figaro."

"I think they come from other regions, ones that haven't rebuilt yet." Celes shrugged and pulled several vials of holy water out of the satchel at her hip. "Everybody is looking to make a living, I suppose. These bandits simply choose to take their living from others." She uncorked a bottle and splashed it on the body in front of her, which sent up a putrid white cloud as it began to disintegrate.

"It seems like a tragedy, all around."

"That's life. Come on, grab a vial and start pouring."

"If we dispose of the bodies," Terra said, pulling the cork free with her teeth, "how do we prove we've dispatched them?"

"We take a souvenir. A hand, an ear, a head."

"A head?" Terra swallowed hard, the color draining from her face. Celes laughed.

"Don't worry, that's only for cases with very specific targets. For regular bandits, a hand from each is generally sufficient." She held up a hand taken from the first bandit.

"You talk about it so casually."

"It's a business. I've gotten used to it." Celes moved to the next body and took her souvenir. "We've done much worse in the past."

"I know. But back then, there was a reason to it, even if it wasn't the right one. We worked for the Empire. I was under Kefka's control. Later, we rebelled against the Empire, fought to save the world. This," she gestured to the pile of softening bones at her feet, "feels wrong, somehow."

"Maybe it is. But somebody wanted these people gone for a reason. It's best not to think about it."

"Celes…"

"And not every mission is about killing. There are plenty of courier assignments, security assignments, escort missions." Celes shoved the empty vials into her satchel and looked up at Terra. "I thought you said you were ready for this."

"I did, and I am ready, to protect people and what they value."

"You're welcome to sit these kinds of missions out, if you feel better."

Terra bit her lip. "You won't think less of me?"

"Of course not! This kind of work isn't for everyone. You're here now, though, so let's finish up. There's not much light left."

They finished their task and returned to town with their gruesome quarry, Terra lagging behind Celes the entire way. She spoke very little, but her uneasiness was palpable. As skilled a fighter as she still was, it was clear that she hadn't killed unless out of absolute necessity in a very long time, possibly not since her days in the Empire. Celes looked up at the sky, at the first stars sparkling against the deep lavender of early evening, and silently cursed at herself. She had chosen the life of a mercenary of her own will, yet she had all but forced its worse aspects on Terra that afternoon. She wished there was something she could say to ease Terra's mind, to ease the guilt in her own heart, but nothing came. Instead, as the adrenaline of the hunt wore off, a leaden dread settled in her stomach, brought on by the possibility that she'd finally shown Terra a side of herself that couldn't be explained away, the side of herself that nobody could love.

A pair of raised voices cut through her thoughts as she approached her house, and she stopped short and motioned for Terra to do the same. They drew their swords and crept around the bend in the road, only to find Edgar and Setzer arguing in front of the house.

"That is possibly the worst idea you've ever had," Edgar said, "and you've got a long list to choose from."

"It wasn't my idea. I'm just a hired pilot." Setzer shrugged. "If it was up to me, I'd leave that place to waste away."

"Why did you take the job, then?"

"Why does anyone take a job? The money."

"I thought you had plenty."

"I've got to maintain a certain standard of living. But unlike you, I don't have family wealth or lowly taxpayers to fund it."

"I'll admit to family wealth, but you leave my subjects out of this." Edgar turned and, noticing Celes and Terra watching the exchange, cleared his throat and smoothed his hair. "Good evening, ladies. I hope you don't mind both of us dropping in at the same time."

Celes and Terra exchanged an exasperated glance. "Not at all," Celes said at last, brushing past the men to unlock the door. "But I do mind you raising a ruckus outside of my house. If you're going to argue, bring it inside."

"There'd be no argument if Edgar would get off his high horse." Setzer followed her in. "Business is business. You'd think a king, of all people, would realize that."

"What business is that?" Terra asked, plopping down on the floor to remove her boots.

"Travel. Adventure. Curiosi—by gods, Terra, where have you been? You're filthy! And is that blood?"

"I was working with Celes. Don't worry, I'll clean up."

Edgar scrutinized Terra's appearance, then turned his gaze on Celes. "Working with Celes, doing what?"

"Fulfilling an assignment," Celes answered, crossing her arms. "Now, are you going to elaborate on what got you two so heated up out there?"

"A simple business proposal," Setzer replied. He sat at the table and leaned against it, legs wide, taking up more room than his slender frame suggested he could. Staking his territory, sending a subtle message to Edgar. If she hadn't been so irritated with both of them at the moment, Celes would have laughed. "I came to offer you an assignment. But, for his own reasons—which he has yet to disclose—Edgar was here, as well, and decided to stick his nose where it doesn't belong."

"I was here to offer an assignment of my own," Edgar said. "One not nearly as hare-brained as yours."

"Oh, Edgar. Insults are the refuge of the small-minded man. My assignment is unconventional, to be sure, but I guarantee, it is no more dangerous than whatever these ladies have been up to this afternoon."

"Will either of you just tell me what these assignments are?" Celes cried, flinging her pack to the floor. Terra jumped at the sound, then nodded in agreement.

"I've been hired as the personal pilot to a group of adventures," Setzer said. "Scavengers, in that they visit ruins searching for materials they might use in their own creations or sell to mechanics around the world. They're a scrappy bunch, pretty handy with weapons, as well as tools, so they haven't had much need for security until now."

"What's changed?"

"The location. The machinery and technology of Vector, both public and experimental, has always been a subject of gossip amongst mechanics and craftspeople, and this group wants to look it over for themselves, in whatever condition it currently is. In other words, they'd like to scavenge the ruins of Kefka's tower."

A chill coursed through Celes' body at the mention of the tower, and she drew her arms closer to her chest. "Is there anything left of it to scavenge?"

"Not much, from what I've seen in passing. But it does appear that there are deposits of debris here and there. We simply don't know what else might be there, and for that reason, the group requests your service—services, if Terra wishes to accompany you—as security, and as guides."

"Guides? It's not like we got to know the place."

Setzer shrugged. "I'm just repeating what they've asked."

"Kefka's tower," Terra murmured. "So much happened there, yet I remember so little."

Celes looked at her. "You don't have to take this assignment if you don't want to, Terra."

"Nor do you," Edgar said vehemently. "You are under no obligation to revisit that place. I will pay you twice as much—three times as much—as Setzer is offering, for a much safer, much easier assignment."

Setzer laughed. "I can dig deep into my own pockets, too, your majesty. Besides, Celes is a warrior, an adventurer in her own right; it's a shame to waste her talents on the spineless pursuits of your little cronies."

Celes frowned. "Cronies?"

"Oh, you didn't know? Well, go on Edgar, tell her. Tell her what you told me, about those agreements that you've made, all the assurances for her well-being. Though it seems some assignments still slip through the cracks, judging by how she and Terra look right now."

"Assurances? Well-being? Edgar! What is he talking about?"

Edgar's shoulders slumped. It was the first time in years that Celes had seen him looking less like a king and more like a castigated youth. "I made some arrangements," he said, "with acquaintances and business partners. The deal was, whenever they got wind of particularly…unsavory assignments, they were to offer a higher purse for less demanding, less dangerous missions. I don't know how the people who hired you for today's mission got through, but sometimes—"

"Wait. So, everything I've been doing isn't because the world has gotten any better—people haven't suddenly become less violent—but because you didn't trust me to do the real work that needs doing?" Celes gripped her head and gritted her teeth. "You purposely had them give me soft assignments, and you let me think that I was making my own choices all along? How…how could you?"

"I only had your best interests at heart. After what happened four years ago—"

"After what happened, I needed to reclaim my confidence, my independence! Edgar! I already owe you for this damn house, and now you tell me I owe you for everything else, too?"

"You owe me nothing. I did this as a friend."

"You did this as pity! You pity me!" Celes' lips trembled, tears stung her eyes, and she curled her hands into tight fists, willing herself not to cry in front of Edgar, imploring herself not to hit him. "That's so much worse. Who do you think I am? What do you think I am? A child? Someone to be humored?" She took a step toward him, shaking with rage. "I am a warrior. A former general. The terror of Maranda. I single-handedly decimated an entire town. I had a hand in taking down a man who had become like a god. I do not need you—I don't need anyone—to go easy on me. I don't need to be taken care of."'

"I understand. I simply wanted to—"

"Play the hero? The savior? Hah! You're no better than Locke." Celes paced the floor until she reached the place where she kept her savings, then pulled up the floorboard and withdrew the box. "Here," she said, tossing it at Edgar's feet, where it sprung open and showered the floor with gil, "for the house. It's probably not enough, but it's what I managed to save. Now, I don't owe you anything."

Edgar looked at the gil sparkling in the light of the lanterns and grimaced. "Celes, please. Don't do this. You have to realize I only wanted to help you. As anyone would help a dear friend."

"Did I ask for your help?"

"That's the problem! You don't ask for anyone's help."

Celes glared at him. "Just take your money. I'll get more, on my own terms." She turned to Setzer. "Kefka's tower, count me in. When do I leave?"

Setzer sighed. "Perhaps you'd better think on it some more. I don't want you making a rash decision."

"A few moments ago, you were bargaining with Edgar for my service. What changed?"

"Your temperament. I fear you're accepting simply to spite Edgar."

"I am. But I'm still the warrior you mentioned. When do I leave?"

"When do we leave?" Terra said, her voice as quiet and measured as always. She rose and slipped her arm around Celes' shoulder. "We work together, now. You hire one of us, you hire both."

Setzer and Edgar exchanged a look that may have been exasperation or pity; Celes was too exhausted to determine which. Terra's arm, gentle and firm, had a stabilizing effect, and without thinking, Celes leaned back against her.

Setzer cleared his throat. "Very well. I'll draw up a contract for your payment and meet you back here a week from today. I hope you're ready to work." He gave an uneasy smile and a melodramatic bow, then showed himself out. Edgar, however, remained.

"I admit I pitied you, and I definitely didn't treat you like the warrior you are," he said. "And I apologize sincerely. But this line of work you've fallen into can lead to some dark places. I don't want you losing the humanity you've reclaimed. I don't want you throwing your life away on other people's vengeance. I don't want you to become like Shadow."

Celes managed a weak grin. "We both know that's not possible. I don't even have a dog."

"Celes, I know it will take some time for you to forgive me. You know where to find me when that time comes. Take care of yourself. You too, Terra." He knelt and scooped the loose coins into the box. "And I'll hold onto this for now. Until you realize that you don't owe me anything. You never have." With a murmured farewell, he walked out of the house, closing the door quietly behind him.

In the stillness that followed, Celes gave herself over to her tiredness and sank into a chair with a heavy sigh.

"He does have a point," Terra said, coming up behind Celes and removing the short ribbon at the end of her braid. "What happened today, what we did, in the name of a job—" she undid the braid strand by strand, and Celes' tension loosened with it "—that sounds a lot like Shadow's work."

"I'm not him," Celes protested weakly, wanting nothing more than to forget the conversation and focus on the sensation of Terra's fingers through her hair.

"Not yet. But our humanity doesn't disappear in a single flash. It goes away bit by bit. We both know that too well." Having loosened the braid, Terra stepped away for a moment and returned with the hairbrush. Celes moaned quietly as Terra pulled the brush through her hair, unsure she deserved such gentle treatment after the way she'd acted. "And you don't want to lose it again, do you? Neither do I."

"No. Sometimes I wonder, though, what our humanity is, after what we went through. Sometimes, I'll wake up in the middle of the night and still feel the hollowness in my bones where the magic used to be. Sometimes, I'll go on a mission and feel like I just can't fight like I used to. Magic…was like a fire that ran through me; it was the only reason I burned as bright as I did. Without it, what am I but a cinder, waiting to be swept up and thrown away? I think that's why I keep fighting. It's who I am, it's all I've ever known."

"Maybe it's time you learned something else. I heard from the others that you happen to be wonderful singer."

"I am not singing for you."

Terra giggled. "Not now, but I'm sure I'll get it out of you, someday."

"Even if I learn to do something else, what will I do in the meantime?" Celes had meant this as a challenge to Terra's optimism, but somewhere deep inside herself, in the vulnerable areas she didn't want to acknowledge, it rang true, and it terrified her more than any creature she'd ever faced in battle.

"In the meantime, you'll wash up. Come on, you saw Setzer's reaction. We both look pretty rough."

"You're right. Look at me: I say I want to be independent, and then I let you brush my hair." She reached back and snatched the brush from Terra's hand. "Let me finish this."

"I'll get the bath ready."

"I can do that."

"Celes, let me. I really don't mind."

"Fine." Celes paused and gnawed on her lower lip. "And Terra…thank you for offering to come along on Setzer's mission, but you don't have to."

"I want to."

"Are you sure? It's Kefka's tower. There are memories there, bad ones."

Terra nodded. "I know. But you remember more than I do about the place. After the battle, I was too worried about whether I'd disappear. So, if you're sure you can face those memories, I am, too." She smiled. "Remember, I don't want you to go easy on me, either!"

"Understood." While Terra began preparing the bath, Celes finished brushing her hair, mentally confirming her existence, her independence, her identity with each stroke. She was a warrior, a former general, a hero, a mercenary, a human. She was not a child, she was not Shadow. She was not vulnerable.

She might be a cinder, but she was far from fragile.

Chapter 4

The crater where Kefka's tower once stood gleamed in the sunlight, much of the ground melted into a thick sheet of glass by the energy from Kefka's final attack. Terra peered over the edge of the Falcon's deck and wondered how the scavengers even thought they could find anything down there.

"How did we escape that?" she wondered aloud.

"A lot of luck, and this baby, right here," Setzer replied, patting the control console. "I told you, she's the fastest ship around!"

"Naturally, you neglect the details of our harrowing descent inside the tower," Celes said.

"Oh, you mean when you risked your life for a silly bandana?"

"It had sentimental value at the time. I wouldn't be so foolish now."

"Nothing foolish about sentiment, my dear, only about who it's directed toward." He winked.

Terra watched the exchange in silence. Obviously, she had missed more than falling beams and cave-ins. When Celes and Setzer failed to elaborate, she turned her attention to the group of scavengers, who were busy conducting final checks on their equipment. They were a smart, lively bunch, much more well-spoken and friendly than Terra thought they'd be. She'd imagined a bunch of roughnecks, the kind that talked loudly in pubs and harassed the waitresses, but these scavengers were mechanics, engineers, even scholars. Curiosity drove them as much as the lure of profit, and they seemed genuinely interested in the history of the ruins they scavenged.

"I heard Vector had all sorts of experimental machinery before Kefka destroyed it," one of them said to Celes. "Any idea of what we might find?"

"I wasn't privy to mechanical development," she answered, "but Vector was known for efficiently harnessing steam power. I assume you might find hoses and gauges and the like."

"What about magic, or magicite? Do you think any of that's left?"

"How do you even know about that?"

"Deserting soldiers are great conversationalists."

"No, magic has completely disappeared from this world again, presumably forever. There's no more magicite to be found."

The scavenger's disappointment was so blatant, Terra couldn't help but laugh. "It's for the best, really," she said. "Magicite contained immense power, enough to kill people who didn't know how to handle it."

He perked up. "Did you?"

"At one time, yes."

"Man, you guys were so lucky!"

"Lucky?"

"Not the word I'd use," Celes quipped, then began collecting her own equipment as Setzer lowered the airship toward the edge of the crater.

"I don't want to chance landing it down there," he said, "so you'll have to do a bit of scrambling to reach the bottom."

Terra and Celes went first. The slope was steep, and they descended sideways, catching themselves whenever loose gravel and debris gave way beneath them. Though they wore thick gloves, Terra could still feel the sharp edges of metal pushing into her palm and cautioned the group behind her to watch where they placed their hands and feet. Once at the bottom, she jogged onto the smooth surface and surveyed her surroundings. What looked like a flat surface from the air was actually dotted with mountains of rocks and scrap metal, some of which formed small caves against the walls of the crater. Though the area seemed devoid of life at first glance, anything could be lurking in those caves. It seems the scavengers were prudent to hire her and Celes as security.

For the first two days of the expedition, the group worked in the open, trekking back up to the Falcon at night to eat and sleep. Terra and Celes spent the time canvassing the area, and while Celes seemed to be working through some memories of her own, Terra struggled to bring any to mind. They spoke very little during the day, and at night, they talked about subjects unrelated to the location. Instead, Setzer regaled them of stories of his travels as they huddled together on one of the airship's couches, and he and Celes taught her how to play various games of chance. Inside the airship, the atmosphere was light and companionable; but outside, deep in the crater, a sense of dread began pressing on Terra, as if the tower still held secrets in its ruined state, as if she had no memories of its demise because it was not yet done wreaking havoc.

On the third day, the group asked her and Celes to investigate the caverns of debris to see if they were structurally sound to scavenge, and to chase out any creatures that may have made their homes there. It was a simple enough request, and they cleared the first cave within an hour. While the group entered it to sift through the rubble, Celes suggested they clear out the others and Terra followed.

The second cave was not much different than the first, mounds of rubble held aloft by conveniently fallen beams. Celes swung her lantern in a slow arc before her, illuminating walls of twisted metal, rusted from exposure to the elements and fused together with compressed dirt and rocks. Terra walked into the light and took a step beyond but froze as a faint green light began to glow from the back of the cave.

"Celes," she said, "can you point the lantern that way?"

Celes moved the lantern in the direction of the glow and advanced toward it, but soon lost it in the light of the lantern. "Where was it? What did it look like?"

"A green light, very dim. It was near the floor, I think." Terra took a step forward and the glow returned, stronger now. "There!"

"It's so bright. How did I miss it?"

"Maybe it fades in the light?" Another step, a stronger glow. "Is it…getting brighter?"

"It seems that way. Take another step. Terra, it's reacting. It's reacting to you."

"To me? Why?" Terra adjusted her grip on her sword and strode toward the back of the cave. The green light intensified with her approach, the point where she had to shield her eyes from it. Looking through her fingers, she kicked away the debris over the light, then jumped back in terror when she revealed a piece of magicite. She dropped to her knees and began digging it out, fingers throbbing with adrenaline, muttering to herself and swallowing down the fear that crept into her throat, bitter as bile.

"It can't be, it can't be," she said, clawing at the dirt and metal around it. She had nearly pulled it free when Celes give a strangled shriek and let the lantern clatter to the ground.

"Terra, don't touch that!"

Terra ignored her and pulled the magicite free from the ground, bathing the cave in green light. "How? How can this be? Magic is gone! We saw it disappear. We felt it disappear! Celes, what is this?"

Celes knelt beside her. "It's magicite. I don't believe it myself, but there's nothing else it could be." She reached out and brushed her fingertips against it, then drew them back with a sharp cry. "It burns! Terra, be careful!"

"It doesn't burn. It's just warm. Like someone's hand, like…like a heart."

"What are you talking about? Put that down. Come on, put it down, and let's get out of here. Whatever it is, it shouldn't be here, and the others might be in danger. Come on, Terra! Let's go!"

"No, wait." Terra peered into the magicite. "I think there's something in here. An esper. Forgotten. Protected."

"Esper? Can you tell which one?"

Terra squinted through the magicite's glow, trying to discern the features of the shape she saw within it. The figure inside, previously curled in on itself, straightened, revealing a slender frame, its edges softened by a fine coat of hair, and a generous mane. Terra's eyes snapped open, and her heartbeat quickened. "It's…me."

"What?"

"My esper form. She's in here. But if she's still here—"

"That's impossible. You're imagining it. Come on, let's—"

"No. She's here. I can feel her. I can hear her." Terra leaned close to the magicite and watched her esper form hover within. She looked so graceful, so feral, so lonely. And when she turned her gem-like eyes toward Terra, she confirmed the fear that had slept in Terra's heart for the past four years and only gradually awakened, and it ran through Terra like an icy blade.

"If she's still here," Terra went on, her voice and hands trembling, "you know what this means. It means that love never kept me alive, magic did. Love was just a convenient explanation, a fairy tale." The realization broke the dam of emotions in her mind, and the desolation she'd thought she'd overcome rushed back, overtaking all of her other thoughts. "Love can't keep me here," she said, darkness creeping into her vision. "It's not that strong. It never was."

Terra didn't notice when Celes left her side, or, perhaps more accurately, when she, herself, left the cave for the green-walled chamber she awoke in. Her head was heavy, with a pressure in her face similar to when she had a cold, and the light inside the chamber was uncomfortably bright compared to the dimness of the cave. She closed her eyes against it and curled into herself, knees against her chest, willing this all to be a dream, a nightmare brought on by the onslaught of repressed memories.

But the furry hand that landed on her shoulder was too real, as was the heat it sent through her body, the sparks it sent down her spine. She shook her head and groaned, but the hand remained.

"Why are you still here?" she asked. "Magic is gone, it died with Kefka. You faded, too; I felt it."

A stroke of luck. The voice that played through Terra's mind was her own, save for the low growl running beneath the words. We were separated after Kefka's death. My power faded, but not completely.

"So, what does this mean? Are you the reason I didn't disappear completely back then, as well?"

Apparently. And you're mine. We need each other, Terra. You are the husk and I'm the essence.

Terra scowled, indignant. "A husk? I'm more than that! I'm a person, with interests and attachments, with people I love and who care about me in return!"

But that's not what's kept you here. You said so yourself, moments ago.

"Maybe not, but…but it has to count for something." Terra's shoulders slumped. "Love can be fickle, I know, and I've been so worried that I might disappear based on the whims of others' hearts. But in the time I've spent with Celes, I found a new kind of love, one that I can't name, yet, but one that I thought could fill the emptiness should the children forget about me. Now, though, knowing it was all a painful lie, a false hope—knowing that you shouldn't be here, and neither should I—knowing that my fear of disappearing has always been real, I simply can't bear it! It hurts, so much more than I ever imagined it would." She let out a sob. "It hurts…to have to let it go."

Let what go?

"Hope. Love." Terra drew a shaky breath. "Life."

Life?

"I can't allow magic to be revived again. Not after what it did. Not after who it made me, who it made Celes; not after it destroyed the world. I can't take you back with me. I will let you go, and I'll destroy the magicite, even if it means losing my own life."

The esper took a step back, and for the first time, Terra saw something akin to emotion flash in her eyes. Something resembling rage. The esper hunched her shoulders and curled her fingers into claws, then swiped at the air and brought down large glowing chains around the room. At the same time, Terra's heart clenched, and she pitched forward, coughing.

You won't get that chance, the esper said. If you're so willing to throw away your own existence to destroy me, it's best you stay here.

"You know it's wrong to still be here, don't you?" Terra said, fighting for air. "You feel it. The loneliness, the uncertainty, the fear. You feel yourself disappearing, fading bit by bit. Right?"

Don't presume to tell me what I'm feeling.

"I feel it, too. I understand."

You understand nothing! For the past four years, while I've languished in the dark, you lived in the light, you lived among others. Others who care for you. I've kept you alive all that time, without so much as an affectionate thought. If you're willing to give that up rather than share it with me, you truly don't understand.

"I'm willing to give it up to protect those I care about. To protect the world."

Really? Because this doesn't look like 'protecting.' The esper waved a hand and one of the walls faded away to reveal the cave, and Terra's body lying limp in Celes' arms. Celes' face was twisted in anguish, and she called Terra's name over and over, shaking her and grasping at the magicite in her hands. You're hurting your friend, the woman you profess to love. Is that what you want?

"Celes!" Terra crawled to the wall and pounded her fist against it. "Celes, can't you hear me? I'm still here, I'm not gone." The invisible chains tightened around her body, and she slumped to the floor. "Celes, I'm sorry."

See? Love hurts. The esper's voice grew gentle, and she knelt by Terra and brushed Terra's hair away from her face. But magic heals. Would it truly be so wrong to take me back, if it meant making your love happy again?

Terra swallowed hard. "Yes. Yes, it would."

Love over magic, then? As I said, you really don't understand. So be it. Bid your friend goodbye. The wall began to turn opaque once more, and Celes faded from view.

"No!" Gathering her strength, Terra pushed herself off the floor and heaved her body against the wall. In her mind, the esper screamed, and then the world shattered around her.

Chapter 5

"Love can't keep me here," Terra mumbled, her head falling forward. "It's not that strong. It…never…was." Her eyes closed and she fell to the ground, still clutching the magicite. Celes grabbed her shoulders and shook her, but got no response.

"Terra! Wake up!" She shook her again, then turned her over. In the moments since she'd fainted, the color had drained from Terra's face, and her breathing became barely perceptible. "Terra, come on, snap out of it!" Celes placed her ear against Terra's chest, and sighed in relief when she could make out a slow, but steady, heartbeat. She called out for any of the scavengers that might be nearby and pulled Terra's body across her lap, cradling her head in the crook of her arm.

"Celes?" One of the scavengers peered into the cave. "Is everything all right?"

"No," Celes called back, not taking her eyes off Terra. "It's Terra. She's fainted. Go fetch Setzer!" As the adventurer's footsteps faded, Celes peered at the magicite in Terra's hands. "You. I know you have something to do with this. Let her go!"

The magicite flashed once, as if in response, then returned to its steady glow.

"I thought you were supposed to be gone. How'd you survive?" A familiar ache ran through Celes' bones, stronger than it had been in months, and she groaned, her eyes widening in realization. "You're the reason I can't heal! You're the reason the pain never goes away. My body still called for you, because it knew you were here. Damn you! Let us both go!"

She tried to pry the magicite from Terra's hands but recoiled when her skin sizzled against it. "You never used to burn. What's changed?"

Another flash.

Celes tried again, holding on for a moment longer until the pain became unbearable. It was clear that Terra was not holding the magicite; rather, it was holding her. "What are you doing to her?" Celes demanded. "Where is she? Where have you taken her? Give her back!"

The magicite's glow intensified, and Terra's body stiffened with the energy coursing through it, her skin almost too hot for Celes to touch. When her body fell limp again, it was like ice. Her breaths came slower now, with longer intervals between, and the heartbeat that Celes had been relieved to hear weakened to a feeble flutter.

Terra was fading, before Celes' eyes, in her very arms.

"No," Celes cried, the sound coming from deep within and tearing from her throat. "No, you can't! You can't take her away! Terra!" Her tears had no time to sting her eyes before they coursed down her cheeks, and she pulled Terra close and buried her face in the space between her neck and shoulder. "Terra, come on! You can hear me, right? Hold on, and fight this. You were wrong about this magic: it isn't what's keeping you here, it's what's holding you back. It's what's planting those doubts in your head, just like it fills me with pain! You've got to fight this and show it that you're your own person."

The magicite's glow dimmed.

"No, you're not going to take her. Terra, please, you can't go. You can't leave me! I don't know what I'd—I can't—I…I love you!" The words felt cumbersome on her tongue, but once they were out, Celes felt as if a weight had been lifted from her heart. She repeated the words, several times over, relishing their sound and the truth they spoke to, an openness that was at once foreign and intimate. "Listen, Terra, even if it's 'only' love keeping you here, know that you'll always have mine. You won't ever disappear, because I won't let you." She glanced at the magicite and set her jaw. "I won't let you."

Steeling herself against the pain, Celes grasped the magicite with both hands, hissing as it burned into her flesh, but refusing to let go. She wriggled it from side to side, gradually working it out of Terra's grip. Then, without rising, without letting Terra fall from her lap, she raised the magicite above her head and flung it to the ground. When that only resulted in a few cracks she did it again, twice over, until the magicite shattered and its shards grew cold and gray.

She stared at the remnants, breathing heavily, fighting the urge to get up and grind the shards to dust beneath her boots. Her hands burned and throbbed, and it took several moments for her to register the strength of Terra's heartbeat beneath her palm, but when she turned back to Terra, she saw the color return to her face, her eyelashes twitch, and finally, the clearest, loveliest eyes Celes had ever seen looked back up at her.

"Celes," Terra breathed, a smile spreading across her face, "you're here. I'm here! I'm alive…but how?"

"Love," Celes answered, laughing, fresh tears gliding down her cheeks. She leaned down and pulled Terra close, her injured hands forgotten in the moment. "Love."

Celes watched as Terra's nimble fingers pulled the bandage around her hand. The moment she'd realized the extent of Celes' injuries, she'd insisted on treating her then and there. Celes leaned back against a cold steel beam and offered her other hand for treatment.

"It was a fluke," Terra explained. "My esper stayed with me just long enough to avoid being destroyed. I suppose I protected her, somehow."

"And that the magicite survived the collapse of the tower as well is really remarkable. I guess it was another stroke of luck that we found it first."

"Yes, and I was willing to give myself up rather than let magic back into the world, even if it only was through myself." Terra chuckled. "That is, I was willing to, until I saw how upset you were."

"You saw that?"

"The esper showed me. But she didn't let me hear you. She just wanted me to know that no matter what I chose, I'd still be hurting someone." Terra finished bandaging Celes other hand and sighed. "And it looks like she was right."

"What, this?" Celes held up her hands, transformed at the moment into white mittens. "Just a little wound. I've suffered worse."

"But you did this for me."

"That should give you some indication of how I feel."

"You're not going to say it?" Terra leaned forward, mischief glinting in her eyes.

"I already did."

"When?"

"When you were…wherever the esper took you."

"I didn't hear it."

Celes looked away, one corner of her mouth turned up in a half-hearted grin. "It doesn't sound very eloquent, coming from me."

"Those words always sound beautiful, no matter who speaks them." She sat back with a huff. "Fine, I'll go first. I love you, Celes. I love you, and I'm not ashamed to say it! See, it's easy! Why don't you try—"

Celes didn't give her time to finish. She pressed her lips to Terra's, hard, awkwardly holding Terra's head with her bandaged hands. Terra's own hands slid over her shoulders as she wrapped her arms around Celes and pulled her close. When they parted, Celes leaned her forehead against Terra's and whispered, "I've always been of the persuasion that actions speak far more loudly than words."

Terra laughed and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "Then, keep talking, Celes. By all means, keep talking!"

Despite Terra's potions and poultices and Edgar's top-tier physicians, Celes' hands remained scarred. She didn't particularly mind; the only person she cared to impress loved her for more than her hands, and the scars gave her appearance an added toughness that made troublemakers think twice before messing with her. Of course, learning to wield a sword properly again took a while, and her handwriting would never be as clear as it once was. But she and Terra were alive, in a world now truly free of magic and the pain and longing it had caused both of them.

Edgar had been waiting for them in South Figaro when they returned, a dramatic apology on his lips, and more questions behind that.

"Forgive me, Celes, for assuming I knew your skills better than you do," he said without preamble. "I wanted to help you, not because I don't trust your decisions or your strength, but because I care about you. You are a dear friend, and I never want to see a dear friend get hurt. But there are times when I don't realize that I am doing just that. If you can find it in your heart to accept my apology, I would very much enjoy resuming our friendship." He bowed before her, and a murmur went up among the crowd in the harbor.

"Edgar, get up," Celes whispered. "You're embarrassing both of us."

"Not until I have your answer."

"This is quite the show. How often did you rehearse this?"

"I did not!" Edgar glanced around, noticed the stares directed toward him, then thought the better of his demonstration and straightened. "Several times," he admitted, "last night. But that was only because I wanted to get it right! So, what do you say, Celes? Do you think you might be able to forgive me, someday?"

Celes grinned. "I understand what you were trying to do, maybe even better now than I did before. And I appreciate the sentiment, I really do. You simply went about it in the most self-serving, ham-fisted way." She bit back a chuckle when he flinched at each unflattering adjective. She looked at Terra standing beside her, then back to Edgar. "But friendship, and love, are tricky. Some people can say what they mean. Others would prefer to show it. And others still would prefer to make a show of it. You're a good man, Edgar. Thank you for caring."

"And thank you for accepting my apology." He reached under his cape and produced the box of gil Celes had thrown at him. "I hope you'll accept this, as well. You've never had to repay me, and I simply can't take this money with a clear conscience."

"But you would keep it if it were given for a different purpose?" Terra asked.

"Depends on what that is." Edgar narrowed his eyes. "You two are up to something, aren't you?"

"Nothing official, yet. But we were thinking of establishing a more visible presence here in South Figaro."

"Terra's thinking of that," Celes corrected. "Something along the lines of a shop, to sell the medicines she's learned to make."

"What a wonderful idea!" Edgar said, reaching out and shaking Terra's hand. "It's always great to welcome a new business to South Figaro. We have enough money here to get you set up right away."

Terra beamed. "That's wonderful!"

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"That Celes consider giving up her job as a mercenary."

"What?" Celes shouted. "You just said you trusted my decisions, that it wasn't your intention to control my life!"

"I realize that. But—"

"Forget it," she said, grasping Terra's hand and pushing past him. "Terra and I will make it on our own, in whatever ways we need to."

Edgar sighed. "Why must you always assume the worst of people?"

"Because I don't take kindly to taking orders from others. In case you have forgotten—"

"You were a former general, the terror of Maranda, et cetera, et cetera."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Not if you give me a chance to finish."

Celes crossed her arms. "Go on, then."

"What if I told you that the fearsome general can make good and earn back a bit of goodwill from the people of South Figaro?"

"How?"

"By becoming head of the town guard."

"There isn't a town guard."

"Exactly. You are going to recruit and train one. I realize that putting soldiers in posts that should belong to the citizens smacks of elitism, if not a smidgen of imperial intent." He smiled. "I trust you know how to lead well, and this way, you have a perfectly legal outlet for your militaristic tendencies."

"Are those the only reasons?"

"I might also need to keep my soldiers on standby as we look into expanding our trade routes. You never know when other places might get a bit twitchy."

"Now that makes Edgar-like sense." Celes laughed. "I apologize for jumping to the worst conclusion. But you have to admit, you were fairly inconsistent for a moment, there."

"It's never easy to offer anything to a proud woman."

"And it's not easy to humble myself and accept, but thank you very much for the new position. I'll give it my all. South Figaro's going to have the best town guard out there."

"That's what I'm counting on!" As Edgar bid them farewell, Terra flung her arms around Celes, laughing with joy and in anticipation of their new start in South Figaro, in a world without magic, but with limitless possibilities.

Even after they released each other from the embrace, Celes kept her arm around Terra's waist as they headed home. She felt lighter now, stronger than she'd ever been with magic, more able to face whatever was to come. The rooms of the little house on the edge of town were no longer her prison, no longer silent and dim, but instead warm and full of love, and the first place she'd ever truly recognized as home.

A year later, South Figaro's town guard was fifteen bodies strong, a group of men and women ranging from young adults to middle-aged former soldiers. They kept order in the harbor, drove away would-be bandits, and broke up the all-too-frequent fights at the pub. Meanwhile, Terra did a brisk business in herbal remedies, and hosted classes to teach interested citizens to make their own. Every few months, she and Celes would travel to Mobliz, where the children would greet Mama Terra with flowers and sweets, and the shopkeepers still resisted Figaro's talks of trade.

Despite all of the activity in their lives now, Celes' favorite moments were the quiet ones in the late evening, when she would return home from patrol and find Terra in bed, reading or sometimes already asleep. She would undress as quietly as possible and slip into bed close enough to Terra to smell the scent of herbs that clung to hair. And she would kiss her shoulder, or the back of her neck, and on the best nights, Terra would roll over and take her into her arms, and they would carry each other to dizzying heights of pleasure before falling asleep in each other's arms, their hearts beating against one another's, cinders of a fire they no longer missed, a fire that burned out not that long ago.

~ The End ~Back to Top

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Dee Moyza's Story Stash

We Are Cinders From a Fire Burning Long Ago (Final Fantasy VI)

We Are Cinders From a Fire Burning Long Ago (Final Fantasy VI)

Chapters

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

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March 2026

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