deemoyza_archive | As the Moon Chases the Sun (Final Fantasy VI fanfiction)

Title: As the Moon Chases the Sun (14,091 words)
Chapters: 4
Fandom: Final Fantasy VI
Rating/Warnings: Teen / Violence, mind control, self-harm
Character(s): Terra Branford, Celes Chere
Relationships: Celes & Terra
Summary: Growing up in Terra's shadow, Celes had come to hate her...until she actually met her. Perplexed by Terra's mix of childish naivete and innate power, Celes finds herself drawn closer to her and the warmth she radiates, and through the passage of time and loss of memories, their paths continue to cross.

Chapters

Chapter 1: The Esper Girl
Chapter 2: Childhood's End
Chapter 3: Crown and Thorn
Chapter 4: As the Moon Chases the Sun

Chapter 1: The Esper Girl

Celes stared at the smoldering targets before her, trying to steady her breathing and ignore the twitching in her fingers, the magic still firing through her nerves.

"One minute, fourteen seconds," Sgt. Helmer said, pocketing his watch. "Adequate. But the Esper girl eliminated all targets in forty-one seconds, suggesting you have room for improvement. "

Celes clenched her fists at the mention of the Esper girl and muttered an affirmative.

"Considering your magical enhancements and rigorous training," Sgt. Helmer went on, "your skill should be indistinguishable from hers by now. See to it that it becomes so, soon, or I will have no choice but to report your failure to the Emperor, himself. Dismissed."

Celes saluted and waited until Sgt. Helmer had walked out of sight before heading in the opposite direction, still gritting her teeth. Even after years of being compared to the Esper girl, usually unfavorably, Celes had never actually met her. She'd heard whispers of her among the empire's scientists, including Cid, but she'd never caught even a glimpse of her. She occasionally entertained the idea that the Esper girl didn't exist at all and was simply an elaborate motivational tactic to spur her toward improving her performance, but the stories she sometimes heard from the Magitek Research Facility, and Cid's own haunted eyes after returning from there, indicated that something powerful and strange lived among them.

Whatever the truth might be, the Esper girl hovered at the edges of Celes' consciousness at all times, haunting and threatening, and Celes hated her for it.

Upon returning to her quarters, Celes set aside her sword and turned her attention to the stack of textbooks on the desk in the corner. In addition to her military training, she was expected to keep up with her lessons, meeting with a tutor several days out of the week. Most of the lessons bored her—basic language and mathematics, a detailed history of the Gestahlian Empire, with particular focus on its militaristic achievements—but she found a quiet comfort in the study of natural sciences. It offered her a glimpse of a variety of plant and animal life that she hadn't seen and likely never would, and it showed her that most of the world outside of Vector was built on its own sets of laws: ancient, consistent, and proficient.

But she enjoyed this subject most of all because it led her to the one place in the city where she could find a modicum of peace. Early in her studies, Cid constructed a greenhouse on the roof of an old military warehouse, and invited her to help him maintain it. He taught her about the plants that grew there—which were edible, which were medicinal, which were deadly—and encouraged her to help him experiment with creating new hybrids. One such experiment yielded a lovely new rose with petals such a dark blue that they looked almost black, except in the sunlight, and covered with delicate flecks of gold.

"They look like stars," Celes observed, touching the petals as gently as she could. "Or, at least, like the pictures of stars in my books."

"It looks like a night sky," Cid agreed, "anywhere outside of this city. The sun sets, you look up, and see something like this spread above you, in all directions. Perhaps you will see it, someday." He sighed. "I only hope you will still be able to appreciate it, by then," he added under his breath.

"This is a new species, right?" Celes turned to the books Cid kept in the greenhouse and thumbed through them, looking for similar roses.

"Yes, it is. It seems we have reason to celebrate; our experiment was a success!"

"What shall we call it, then? Something to do with the night? Stars? Sky? Darkness?"

"Hmm." Cid stroked his chin, then turned to her with a tender smile. "What do you think of the name Rosa celestis?"

"Celestis?"

"Yes, for its resemblance to the sky. But also, in honor of the person who helped create it." He gestured dramatically to the rose. "This, Celes, is your flower. May you bloom just as magnificently, as a soldier, and as a person."

That had been two years ago. Now, at eleven, she had yet to bloom into much of anything. Her lessons bored her, and her military prowess had reached a plateau. She'd heard talk of another round of infusions, but Kefka's erratic behavior after his last round gave the scientists pause, and her, a reprieve.

She would simply have to work harder, to focus her magical abilities and to use the faceless shadow of the Esper girl as her motivation and her target, until it, too, lay in ashes at her feet.

But right now, she found it hard to work at all. Squadrons of Spitfires and Sky Armors tore through the sky overhead, engaged in mock combat, and beneath her window, supply trucks and transport vehicles rumbled past. Celes slammed her textbook shut with an irritated sigh and pushed back her chair. Gathering her study materials, she abandoned her room for the long walk across the base to the greenhouse.

The air inside the greenhouse was heavy with moisture and the scents of leaves and soil. It was clean and easy to breathe, a welcome respite from the smoke-laden air of Vector. Along the left side, between two rows of flowering shrubs, a narrow stream burbled, cool and clear, the product of a system of pumps and filters Cid had installed between the greenhouse and a nearby water tower. Celes took a few moments to pluck dry leaves from several plants before settling at a table in the back corner, which was piled high with notebooks and reference materials and scientific paraphernalia. She made enough space for her textbook and notes, and began to read, in peace, at last.

She noticed the passing shadow outside the greenhouse first. Believing it to be a bird, she went back to her studying, but when it passed again, in nearly the same spot, she rose to investigate. From the area of the table, she could see very little, but when she emerged from the rows of plants and looked toward the door, she saw a girl standing outside. Fair-skinned, with hair an unnatural shade of green, the girl stared back, then let her eyes wander among the plants, her mouth open slightly in what Celes assumed was either wonder or stupidity.

She was most likely an officer's child, Celes thought. Those brats seemed to have the run of the base whenever they visited their fathers, and more than once, they'd caused considerable damage and gotten themselves badly hurt. But normally, they kept to the area around the officers' quarters, mindful not to wander too far from the opulent comforts to which they were accustomed.

What, then, was this girl doing here? Why had she come to the old warehouse to begin with, and how had she made it to the roof? She looked far too frail to climb more than five steps before fainting.

Celes frowned and drew herself up, prepared to frighten away this spoiled child and ensure she would remain undisturbed for the foreseeable future, but before she could even form a reprimand on her tongue, the girl opened the door and stuck her head inside.

"What is this place?" she asked. "It's so different from everything else I've seen. Do you live here?"

Celes' frown deepened. What a preposterous question! The girl looked to be around her age; she should know what a greenhouse was. Perhaps she really was stupid.

"No," Celes said firmly. "Nobody lives in a greenhouse. It's for plants. And it's off-limits to children."

"You're a child."

"I'm a soldier. Celes Chere, Magitek Knight, Second Class."

The girl's eyes widened. "Magitek? I've heard of you, I think. You're that girl—"

"Yes. Now, leave. I have work to do."

"Work? What kind of work do you do here?"

"Studying. Leave."

"Studying…" The girl refused to move, instead turning her slack-jawed gaze on the flowers closest to her. "It must be nice to study here. It's so pretty. So clean."

"It won't be for long, if you keep that door open. Leave."

"Can't I come in, just to look? I've never seen things like this up close before."

Celes scoffed. "You're lying. I've visited the Officers' Hall. Every table has a vase of flowers on it."

"Officers' Hall? Why would I go there?" The girl let herself in and shut the door behind her, then strolled along the row of plants toward the rose bushes.

"You're an officer's daughter, aren't you?"

She leaned in and smelled a rose, then smiled. "No. I'm a soldier, just like you."

"Don't insult me. I'm not some little twit who believes everything she's told. Now, please, get—no, no, don't touch—"

Before Celes could warn her, the girl reached into the rosebush and grabbed a stem. She yelped as she closed her fingers around the thorns and quickly withdrew her hand. Blood blossomed bright against her pale skin, and she stared at it, seemingly confused.

"Why did you do that?" Celes demanded, jogging to the table to search for bandages.

"I…I didn't know."

"You didn't know? How can you not know roses have thorns? How dumb are you?" Celes found nothing on the table in the way of bandages but a roll of gauze.

"No one told me. It wasn't something I needed to know."

"Needed to know? Said who?"

"Emperor Gestahl, General Arcald, Kefka."

"Kefka?" Celes dropped the gauze. "How do you know Kefka?"

"The Emperor asked me to show him my powers. He thinks there may be very special work for me, in the future."

"Wait…you're the Esper girl!"

"Half-Esper," the girl corrected her. "My mother was human. At least, that's what I've been told." She glanced at the gauze, still on the floor, and grinned. "Don't bother. I can take care of this."

As Celes watched, dumbfounded, the girl closed her eyes and mumbled an incantation, then swept a blue glow from her fingertips over her injured hand, healing it instantly. She glanced at Celes and laughed.

"Don't look so surprised. It's just a Cure spell. You can use it too, right?"

Celes shook her head slowly, grasping the Esper girl's hand and drawing it close, inspecting it for any scars or redness. She found nothing; it was as if the girl had never been injured.

"All I know are offensive spells," she said at last, releasing the girl's hand and trying to reclaim some semblance of dignity. "I'm a solder, not a medic."

“Healing spells are useful, no matter who you are.” The girl looked around the greenhouse again, then thoughtfully brought a finger to her lips. “I could teach you. Cure spells, I mean. I could show you how to use them.”

“I highly doubt that.” Celes retrieved the gauze and slipped it into her pocket, watching the girl all the while. This frail child was not at all what she’d expected the Esper girl to look like. She’d expected someone strong and imposing, half-feral, to be frank. Or, at the very least, someone more familiar with the world around her.

The girl smiled, plucking a leaf from a nearby bush and ignoring Celes’ whimper. “You shouldn’t. It’s easy if you already know how to use other magic. It’s just learning to refocus your energy.” She bent the leaf in half, then brought it to her nose, but made a face at its pungent scent and quickly dropped it. “But, of course, I’d like something in return.”

“Doesn’t the army give you everything you need?”

“Oh, I don’t mean things, or even gil. If you let me teach you, I’d like for you to teach me, too.”

“Teach you what?”

“Everything you know! Starting with the plants here. They’re so beautiful. How did you grow them? Did it take long? Why don’t all of them have flowers? What are their names?”

Despite her irritation, Celes couldn’t help but smile at the girl’s enthusiasm. “I’m not giving you any answers,” she said, crossing her arms, “until I get some from you. What’s your name?”

“Terra Branford.”

“Your rank?”

“Magitek Knight, First Class.”

Of course. Celes shrugged off the hint of envy. “How old are you?”

Terra blinked. “I’m…not really sure. No one’s ever told me. How old are you?”

“Eleven.”

“We’re about the same height…I guess I’m eleven, too!”

Celes groaned. Terra was perplexing, highly knowledgeable in some areas, as ignorant as a newborn in others. How could Celes possibly teach her? Where could she even begin? For several moments, she seriously contemplated declining Terra’s offer, but her curiosity over the Cure spell won out. Knowing a healing spell would be incredibly useful, in training and in everyday life; it might even give her an edge over Terra, eventually, if she developed it to the same level as her offensive spells.

“Okay,” she said at last, “I’ll do it. Come back here tomorrow afternoon, 1500 hours, and teach me the spell. I’ll teach you about some of these plants.”

“Wonderful!” Terra beamed and clasped her hands in front of her. “Thank you, Celes. I’ll be here, I promise!” Before Celes could respond, Terra let herself out of the greenhouse and continued across the warehouse roof without so much as a backwards glance.

The floral knife clattered on the floor. Celes seized the front of Terra's dress with her uninjured hand while blood spattered the table in the greenhouse from the cut on her other palm. Terra stared back calmly, her momentary surprise giving way to confident serenity.

"What did you do that for?" Celes demanded.

"If you want to learn the Cure spell," Terra replied, "you need an injury to heal."

"Yeah, but not my own!" Celes released her and sat down, grasping her wrist and sucking air through her teeth. "Couldn't I have healed a wilting plant?"

"The spell works best on flesh." A stipulation that would have been helpful before Terra had picked up the knife from the table and drawn it across Celes' palm. "Now calm down, and focus."

"Easier said than done." As the wound remained open to the air, its stinging intensified, and Celes resisted the urge to bandage it. Instead, she took a deep breath and pushed the discomfort to the back of her mind while she tried to imagine her skin knitting itself back together. She muttered the incantation Terra had taught her, and cut it off with a short laugh, similar to the bark of a guard dog, when she felt the magic stir in her brain and move through her arm, cool and tingling. She opened her eyes and waved her fingers over the cut, but slumped back in her chair when only a few paltry sparks came from her fingertips.

"Close," Terra said, hovering over her. "Try again."

Celes cast her a glare that could have cut like a thousand knives, but closed her eyes and tried again. She mumbled the spell once more, and did not open her eyes as she felt the magic flow through her, only opening them a crack to watch her skin mend itself once she was finished.

No trace of her injury remained.

"You see, you see?" Terra grabbed Celes' hand, beaming, and shoved it toward her face. "You did it! I told you it wasn't hard!"

"I would've rather learned on someone else."

"But that's how you learn Cure. That's how I learned it."

"What?" Celes withdrew her hand and shook feeling back into it, while Terra simply kept smiling. Terra seemed to have no idea how unsavory her training methods had been, even by the army's standards. "How old were you when you learned?"

"Like I said, I don't know my age, but it was a few years ago. Four or five years ago, I think."

"Six or seven, then." Celes frowned. At age six, she was just learning how to hold a sword, how to perfect her first Fire spell. She hadn't even entered combat training, yet; she hadn't yet been badly injured. At the same time, Terra was intentionally being cut and forced to heal herself. Celes felt a twinge of sympathy for her but realized that such horrific training had, nonetheless, been highly effective. No wonder Terra was the better soldier, at the moment.

Her superiority would not stand, however, if Celes could help it. She retrieved the knife, then drew it across her other palm. "Practice makes perfect," she muttered through clenched teeth as blood welled up from the wound. "I want to get it right on the first try, this time, and then I want to get it right again."

Terra shrugged but said nothing, watching her through two more successful casts. Then, evidently bored of the spectacle, she wandered away from the table, through the rows of plants, asking about each one.

"What are these flowers called? They're beautiful."

Celes glanced up. "Lilies." Cut.

"And these?"

"Chrysanthemums." Cure.

"Such pretty colors!" Terra bent toward another bed of flowers and inhaled slowly. "Oh, and these over here smell wonderful! What are they?"

Celes rose to get a better view of the flowers in question. "Hyacinths. And I agree, they smell lovely. When they're in full bloom, their scent fills the greenhouse. It's like walking into a cloud of perfume."

"Really? I can imagine!"

Celes cracked a smile as Terra sniffed the hyacinths again, luxuriously. Her smile faded as her fingers closed around the knife in her own hand and she realized what she had been doing. That knife was meant to cut flower stems, not flesh; how quickly, how unthinkingly, had she turned a tool into a weapon! And how willingly had she turned it on herself, in pursuit of power, of superiority! Gestahlian conditioning, at its finest. She shuddered as wiped the blood off the blade, then shook the thought away and joined Terra in admiring the plants.

"These are strange," Terra said, looking at a pot of experimental hybrids, half of them already wilted, the other half blooming in a wild array of colors. "They don't look anything like each other. What are they?"

"Nothing, yet," Celes answered, plucking the dry leaves off one stem. "They're an experiment."

"Experiment?"

"Cid and I test combinations of flowers, to create new ones."

Terra tilted her head questioningly. Celes sighed and gestured to the Rosa celestis plant.

"We breed two flowers to see if we can make another kind, one that's never been seen before, like this one."

"Oh," Terra breathed, tentatively reaching out and stroking the petals of the rose before her, "how amazing. This flower…almost sparkles…like a magic spell."

"There's no magic here, just science. This is Rosa celestis. It's named after the sky."

"The sky…"

"The gold spots look like stars in the night sky. Well, according to my books, and to Cid. There's too much light and smoke to see them here in Vector, though."

"That's too bad. If they're as pretty as this rose, I'd like to see the stars, someday." Terra turned abruptly toward Celes, her eyes wide and bright. "Wouldn't you?"

Celes took a step back and shifted beneath Terra's too-earnest gaze. "I…suppose so," she admitted, catching a bit of Terra's enthusiasm. "Yes, I would." She grinned and looked at the roses, allowing herself to slip away on a rare flight of fancy. She could imagine walking out of the city gates one day—perhaps with Cid, maybe even with Terra—without having to request permission or answer to anyone. And she'd keep walking from there, until the sky above her cleared and she finally saw the miles of rolling green hills Cid had told her about. She would lie down on the grass, feel it tickle her skin, and she would watch the clouds drift overhead and wait for nighttime; then, she would watch the stars appear, one by one, and she would count them, until she ran out of numbers, until she ran out of words.

And then…then…what?

What was left, but to return?

Celes' smile faded, and her shoulders drooped. "I'd like to see them," she reiterated, "but that's not possible. For me, or for you." Her jaw tightened. "So, there's no use thinking about it."

Terra nodded, and let her arm drop to her side. "It would be nice, though," she whispered. "Wouldn't it?"

Something in Terra's whisper, in her tone, struck Celes squarely in the heart, unleashing a flood of emotion. Anger, pity, sentimentality, a strange warmth that sought to hold and protect both Terra and the flowers, but against what, Celes had no idea. All she knew is that it irritated her, as did Terra's mere presence. She stepped between Terra and the roses and, placing her hands on Terra's shoulders, turned her toward the door.

"I think it's time you left. Thank you for the Cure spell."

"And thank you for teaching me the names of the flowers."

"There, we're even."

"I guess we are." Terra hesitated at the door, looking over her shoulder at all the plants she hadn't learned the names of.

"You don't have to come back."

"I guess not."

"What's with the guessing?" Celes opened the door and gave Terra a gentle nudge. "You don't have to come back."

"All right." She took one last glance around the greenhouse then smiled. "Goodbye, Celes. And thank you, again."

"Don't mention it. I mean that. I don't need anyone else coming around." Celes closed the door. "Goodbye, Terra," she said through the glass, unsure if Terra could hear her, "and thank you, again."

Terra stood outside the greenhouse for a few moments more, as if deciding where to go, then waved to Celes and walked toward the stairs. Celes nodded in reply and retreated to the table, cleaning the spots of dried blood off its surface. When she looked up again, Terra was gone.

Good, she thought, peace and quiet, at last. But as she began reading her lesson, she became acutely aware of the silence in the greenhouse, the cold indifference of the plants to her presence. Terra had only been inside the greenhouse for a total of maybe an hour over the past two days, but, as much as Celes hated to admit it, she had brought a spark to her surroundings, a sense of wonder and vitality.

Celes missed that, now.

She pushed the feeling down as far as she could and tried to focus on the textbook in front of her. Terra was gone; she had told her not to come back. She might never see her again, even in training, even in battle.

Still—the thought bubbled up from between the lines of text, blurring the letters—Celes hoped, vaguely, that she might.

It would be nice, she thought, the words playing through her mind in Terra's voice. Wouldn't it?

Such feelings, Celes discovered, are highly illogical, and when Terra rapped on the door to the greenhouse a few days later, Celes wondered exactly what it was about her that she had missed.

"I know you said I didn't have to come back," Terra said as soon as Celes opened the door, "but I wanted to. I like it here. I like you."

"Me?" That was one of the more distressing things Terra had said. Celes was not likeable; she strove hard to be cold and intimidating, to strike fear into the hearts of grown men. She was a soldier, a warrior infused with magic, trained to kill and conquer. She wasn't anybody's friend.

"Maybe you can teach me about the other plants," Terra went on, completely uncowed by Celes' glare, "or whatever other subjects you're interested in."

"Really? And what would I get in return?"

"Company?"

"Not good enough." Celes began to close the door, but Terra inserted half of her body into the doorframe.

"If I know any more spells you don't, I can teach you. If not, I can help you practice your magic."

Celes narrowed her eyes. "Help me? Why would you do that?"

With a grunt, Terra squirmed her way through the nearly-closed door. "Because you're helping me. There's so much I don't know, and you know a lot!"

"But we're rivals."

Terra tilted her head, confused.

"You're not afraid I might learn too much?" Celes continued. "That I might become too skilled? You aren't worried that I might take your place?"

"You can't." It was a breezy dismissal, so self-assured, and it struck Celes like a thunder spell. Terra seemed not to notice and began inspecting the plants around her.

Celes sighed and shut the door, unable to deny that the air had grown warmer, the light a little bit brighter, since Terra had entered. "That's lavender," she said, pointing to the plant Terra was looking at. "And catmint, to your left."

Terra nodded, then moved toward a bed of daisies. She focused on one that was wilting, then closed her eyes and mumbled a spell, bringing it back to full bloom as Celes watched, mesmerized.

Terra glanced at her and smiled. "And that's Raise."

Chapter 2: Childhood's End

Terra could not visit every day, but over the following weeks, she and Celes established a fairly regular schedule. Within a few months, Terra exhausted the portion of her magical repertoire that Celes had not yet learned, and gleaned facts about nearly every plant inside the greenhouse. Still, she continued to visit, and Celes even found herself looking forward to their afternoons together. They moved on from the terms of their original agreement to more challenging topics: Terra helped Celes perfect her Runic ability, and Celes began teaching Terra about history and language and basic mathematics.

And some days, there was no exchange at all, save for that of idle conversation.

"Do you ever wonder what it's like," Terra said, sitting on the floor, thumbing through a book on horticulture and stopping to study every picture, "to have a family?"

Celes completed an equation from her lesson. "Not really."

"I saw an officer's child the other day. She was with her mother. They were both dressed in such fine clothes, and the little girl carried the prettiest doll. Pink lips, golden curls, eyes that opened and shut. She looked so happy."

"Of course she was. Officers' families don't have a worry in the world."

"It wasn't just the clothes, or the doll. It was the way her mother looked at her and held her hand. So warm, so tender. Watching them made me feel strange; kind of happy, kind of sad. It made me miss something. My own mother, maybe."

"Do you remember her?"

Terra shook her head. "I never met her. The Empire took me in as a baby. I haven't even seen a picture of her."

"Oh. Same as me, then." Celes turned back to her studies, unwilling to linger on the thought, unwilling to speculate who her mother might have been, what she might have looked like. That was a fruitless exercise; what did it matter who she was, if she would never be a part of Celes' life?

"Maybe we're more alike than we think." Terra reached the end of the book, then replaced it with another. She paged through it quietly, for several minutes, then asked, "What about love?"

"What about it?"

"Do you feel it? Can you feel it?"

"What in the world are you going on about?"

"I think that's what I saw between the mother and her child. But I don't know if I can feel that for another person." She toyed with the edges of a page. "Is it because I'm half-Esper? You have magic in you, too; can you feel love, Celes?"

"I don't know. I've never tried to."

"Never?"

"Never. I don't need to know what it is."

"Said who?"

Celes looked up sharply. Despite her challenging tone, Terra's expression was pure curiosity. "Me," Celes answered, lifting her chin. "I'm a soldier, not some starry-eyed twit. I don't need love."

"I think everyone needs it. But I don't know if I can feel it. I'm afraid I might be broken."

"Why is it so important to you?"

"It just is." Terra took a moment to think over her answer. "It seems like it's the one thing every human shares. A love for something, someone. My parents must have loved each other; and since I'm half-Esper, that means that Espers can feel it, too! Why can't I, then? What if I'm just all the wrong parts of humans and Espers?"

Celes exhaled slowly and joined Terra on the floor. "Maybe Espers can't love. Maybe you were an experiment, like the flowers we grow in here."

"No! I don't believe that."

"How can you be sure?"

Terra's shoulders slumped. "I can't. But there's something…inside…that tells me my parents loved each other." She chewed her lower lip. "I know what love is when I see it, and I know I'm missing it. If I were an experiment, I wouldn't need it. I would be like you."

"I choose not to love. Love makes you weak. It gives you vulnerabilities you can't afford on the battlefield."

"But it fills your heart so much! At least, that's what I think. That's why my heart feels empty when I see others in love."

"I guess that's the difference between us, then. You have an Esper's heart. I just have its magic."

"You would be able to, if you tried, though?"

"I guess."

"Maybe I haven't tried hard enough. Maybe I haven't seen enough to know what I love."

"Seen enough? What does love look like?"

Terra smiled. "It looks like a mother with her child, like a man holding his wife's hand. Like a couple dancing."

"Dancing?" Celes wrinkled her nose. "Like at one of the Empire's fancy balls?"

"Yes, exactly! I got to see one, once. Emperor Gestahl wanted me to meet some important people there. Everybody was dressed so nicely, and they were laughing and dancing, and they all seemed so happy."

"Really? I've never been allowed to one. But the way Cid comes back from them, stinking of wine and talking nonsense, I didn't think I was missing much."

"You are! The women in their gowns, and the men in their uniforms, with all their medals sparkling…they look made of magic! And the way they sway together…" Terra closed her eyes and began to sway to an imaginary tune. "It all made me feel so warm inside."

"I'm unconvinced."

"You have to try it. Come on." Before Celes could object, Terra grasped her hand and pulled her to her feet. She was much stronger than she looked, and her hand was very warm, similar to how Celes' hand felt immediately after casting a Fire spell. Celes leaned away, but Terra pulled Celes' arm around her own waist and lifted their clasped hands. "This is how they dance. Isn't it lovely, to be so close to someone else?"

"Not particularly," Celes answered, but her body betrayed her words and she leaned into Terra's warmth. Something fluttered to life inside her chest, and she grasped Terra's hand more tightly, craving the proximity she shunned out of habit, seeking direct contact with another living, breathing being.

"And when the music starts—" Terra hummed a few bars of an unfamiliar tune "—you move with it. Like this." She began humming and swaying again, pulling Celes along with her. Celes stumbled for a few steps, but soon settled into the rhythm, and the two of them swayed and twirled in the back of the greenhouse, Celes' heart growing lighter with every beat.

"I feel so silly," Celes chuckled.

"But isn't it fun?"

"It…is. It really is." Celes threw her weight into the rhythm and lifted her arm for Terra to twirl beneath, laughing all the while. Terra began to laugh, too, and by the time her laughter overtook her song, both she and Celes were flushed and disheveled and thoroughly enjoying themselves.

"So," Celes panted, collapsing into her chair, "that's what love is, to you?"

"Not quite," Terra giggled. "I guess I'll have to keep looking."

Celes chuckled, then began straightening her books. Her smile faded, however, when she caught sight of a figure from the corner of her eye. She turned quickly and rose to see past the plants, but whoever it was was already gone. Who else knew about the greenhouse? Could Terra have been followed? Or had she led them here? The possibilities settled heavy in Celes' chest, displacing her levity and quickly sobering her. She turned toward Terra to demand answers, but when she saw Terra happily thumbing through books once more, still humming her tune, her questions died on her lips.

The greenhouse was supposed to be a sanctuary from the noise and machinations of Vector. And Celes decided to let it be, for a moment longer, for as many moments more as she could.

She opened her textbook and resumed her studies, casting a wary glance out of the greenhouse every few minutes and swaying along with Terra's tune, trying, and failing, to recapture that elusive taste of happiness.

The seasons changed, but Terra's schedule didn't. She continued to visit Celes in the greenhouse, even when neither had anything new to teach the other, and spent the afternoons there tending to the plants or quietly reading the same books over and over while Celes studied. By the time summer came around again, she was as permanent a fixture in the greenhouse as any of the plants.

And Celes didn't mind one bit.

She'd grown used to Terra's endless questions, her fixation on love, and her unfounded optimism. Though she was not yet ready to admit it, Celes appreciated the contrast Terra presented to her own thoughts, apt as they were to gravitate toward the shadows. And she appreciated Terra's joy at her accomplishments, untarnished by rivalry or envy.

So, when Sgt. Helmer declared her training time a new record, having beaten even Terra's time, Celes did not go to her quarters to rest or change, but immediately went to the greenhouse to await Terra's arrival.

"Thirty-three seconds? That's amazing!" Terra clapped. "Congratulations, Celes!"

"Thank you." Celes basked in Terra's adoration for a moment before adding, "For your help. I couldn't have done it without you teaching me."

"Yes, you could. It just would've taken longer."

"Thanks, all the same. I hope you've gotten something out of your afternoons here."

"Oh, definitely!" Terra rattled off a list of random facts and figures, about plants and science and Gestahlian history, and even included the first few multiplication tables. "And I'm sure I'll learn a lot more," she finished, breathless.

Celes laughed. "It took me years to learn all that. I don't know how you do it."

"I don't know, either. Things kind of just stick in my mind. General Arcald says it's a good thing, but Kefka thinks it might lead to trouble. 'Overworking the system,' I think he said."

Celes bristled at the mention of Kefka's name. According to whispers around the base, he had grown even more unstable in recent months, inserting himself in missions where he had no business, sometimes even usurping command, all with Emperor Gestahl's apparent blessing. And now he was wary of Terra learning too much?

"Don't listen to Kefka," she said. "He's the one overworking his system, sticking his nose where it doesn't belong."

"But he has been nice to me."

"Nice? Kefka?"

"He brings me presents from places he visits. Little sweets, some pretty jewelry. General Arcald won't let me eat the sweets or wear any of the jewelry, but it's still very nice to look at."

"Why would he do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe he gets tired of being angry all the time. Maybe he feels bad for me; he's all alone, too, you know."

"Or maybe he has something up his sleeve."

Terra frowned. "I'd rather not think that. Don't think too badly of him, Celes. He's lonely. Maybe he's looking for a family, too, just like me."

Celes turned away and bit her tongue. She had no proof of Kefka's strange behavior aside from rumors, and that wouldn't be enough to change Terra's mind. But she'd never known Kefka to be kind to anyone, and Terra's account of his behavior toward her filled her with dread. She resolved to ask Cid for direct answers about Kefka that evening, so that she might understand what was going on, and spare Terra from whatever he was planning.

For now, however, Terra was content to shift the conversation to other topics, and the afternoon passed in a similar fashion to those before. When she took her leave, Terra lingered in the doorway, as if trying to memorize the layout of the greenhouse, before congratulating Celes again and promising to see her in a few days.

She never returned.

Perhaps, Celes figured, after losing the training record she'd held for so long, Terra had finally gotten jealous. Perhaps she didn't care for how Celes viewed Kefka. Or perhaps she'd simply grown tired of spending her afternoons reading and chatting among the plants.

Celes waited for her at their appointed times for three weeks, before asking Cid if he knew anything about her whereabouts.

"Terra? Oh, the Esper girl? She's been reassigned, I believe," he said, checking the pumps in the greenhouse.

"Reassigned?"

"Special training for the Magitek Armor unit. I don't know the specifics, but Kefka's had a lot of the engineers tinkering with those contraptions. Maybe he thinks someone with magic can use them more efficiently." Cid shrugged.

"Kefka? Terra's training with Kefka?"

"Yes. That's always been the plan, from day one. With his infusions, he understands her better than anyone else, and he can make sure she reaches her full potential on the battlefield." Cid pulled a wrench from his pocket and fiddled with the pump, shutting it off. The stream's burble stilled, and an eerie silence descended on the greenhouse.

"What did you do that for?" Celes asked as he moved to the desk and began gathering his books and notes. "It was working fine."

"It did work fine, for a long time. But I got the order today: shut it down, or face consequences. I guess they finally found out where that water was going."

"But the plants! They'll die without water!"

"Unfortunately, yes. We can take a few cuttings, but I can't guarantee they'll survive in Vector's air." He continued packing.

"You can get water from somewhere else, right? You can save this, all of this!" Celes gestured wildly, emotion rushing into her chest, tightening her throat and bringing tears to her eyes. "You can't let everything die! I'll take care of it, I promise."

"I know you would. But I got another order, too: you're to officially join the ranks of the Gestahlian Army, effective next week." Cid's voice hitched, and he turned away. He cleared his throat, but the heaviness in his voice remained. "It's time to move on from childhood pursuits, Celes. It's time to grow up."

"No. I can grow up just fine, with the greenhouse."

"You won't have time to tend to it."

"But you can!"

"I won't have time, either. The Emperor is ramping up research efforts at the facility. I'll be working long hours, most of the week." He lifted the box of books and began to guide Celes toward the door.

Through the door, Celes saw several soldiers waiting with planks and nails and padlocks at the ready. They were shutting down the greenhouse, locking her out. She dug in her heels and refused to move.

"Don't be difficult, Celes," Cid admonished. "This isn't easy for me, either."

"Then fight it!" Celes' tears began to flow, and she wiped them away, her anger overriding her shame for the moment. "Fight them! I'll help you." She began to prepare an Ice spell. "See, I can just—"

"Celes!" Cid's voice was harsher than she'd ever heard it, and it jolted her out of her incantation. "Don't do anything rash. It's not worth it. Orders are orders, and we can't do anything but follow them." He looked weary, his face having aged several years in the past few minutes.

The spell died on Celes' fingertips, and she accompanied him toward the door without further protest.

"But," she whispered as the soldiers opened the door and escorted them out, "what about the Rosa celestis?"

"It will stay. Like any true leader, it will stay until the end."

Celes nodded, understanding, and took her place beside Cid. She clenched her fists as the soldiers boarded up the greenhouse and bit her lip hard enough to draw blood as they fortified it with chains and padlocks, but she did not cry. She peered through the boards and caught a final glimpse of her beloved flower, a final glimpse of a sky she might never see, and she offered a silent apology.

She was only following orders.

Someday, though, she would give the orders. And when she did, she would make sure those orders were just as devastating as the one she followed now.

After all, she'd stayed until the end of the greenhouse, the end of her childhood.

Like any true leader would.

Chapter 3: Crown and Thorn

A week after her eighteenth birthday, Celes stood before the entire Gestahlian Army and received her promotion to General from Emperor Gestahl, himself. Though the soldiers saluted when she raised her sword, she could feel resentment rippling from the ranks like heat off the pavement on a summer day.

She had neither the time for, nor the interest in, their insecurities and envy. If they wished to stand where she did now, let them challenge her in battle, let them prove their leadership on the field. Let them stay to the end through massacres and fires and the anguished cries of the conquered. Let them watch Death collect souls and not bat an eyelash. Let them become Death itself, a harvester with a swift and cold blade. Let them defeat her.

Let them try.

As she turned to enter the Imperial Palace, she scanned the crowd of government officials and military elites gathered on the balcony and caught a glimpse of Terra. Standing beside Kefka, Terra still had the same unusual green hair, but her eyes had grown dull over the years. Celes nodded in greeting as she passed, and Terra slowly reciprocated. Whatever training Kefka was subjecting her to, it had struck at the core of her spirit, turning the optimistic, indomitable girl into a husk of a soldier, well-primed to follow whatever orders she received.

Though she had almost certainly forgotten their conversations, Terra still recognized Celes, at least by sight. A small mercy, Celes thought, in a world gone mad with power.

Celes, herself, had not remained entirely untouched by that madness. She rose through the ranks more quickly than anyone before her had by willingly running toward conflict, no matter the odds of victory, and remaining there until the last enemy had been cut down, until she'd wrung the last drop of blood from their body. She took charge in cases where leadership faltered in body or conscience, and she brought every one of the soldiers in her care back alive, if not unscathed.

She pursued victory not for the Empire, but as a stepping-stone for herself, to reach the position in which she would give orders rather than follow them. The position in which she was finally free to exert control and wreak devastation on the scale to which she'd been subjected, and then some.

Celes continued through the palace to the banquet hall, where the kitchen staff was already setting the tables for that evening's feast in her honor. She heard slow, shuffling steps approaching, and turned to see Emperor Gestahl walk through the doorway.

"Ah, yes, looking good already, wouldn't you agree, General Celes?" he said, surveying the décor. "It will be a momentous banquet for a momentous occasion. Allow me to congratulate you once again. To finally have a true Magitek Knight become general—it is quite the milestone for our little project."

"Thank you, Emperor. It is my honor to serve."

"I'm glad to hear you say that. We have an operation lined up for you, starting next week, in a town called Maranda."

"What kind of operation?"

"A relatively small one. Suppress the rebellion there, force the town's allegiance to the Empire, kill any who resist. The standard fare." He chuckled and patted her shoulder. "But there will be plenty of time to discuss the details tomorrow. Tonight, we celebrate! Make yourself ready for the banquet, General Celes. You are our guest of honor."

She watched him leave the banquet hall, then turned toward the white-clothed tables and sighed. Suppress, force, kill. The standard fare. Easy enough for a first assignment, she thought. Maybe too easy.

It became clear to her that, despite her promotion, she still had a long way to go to prove herself in her new capacity. Very well; she would eliminate the Emperor's doubts, one by one, and leave him looking a fool for ever harboring them. She was where she belonged now, and soon, no one would dare to question that.

Had the request come from anyone else, Celes would have declined, but Kefka ranked higher in the Emperor's esteem than all the officers of the army combined, and two days before heading into the field as a general for the first time, the last thing Celes wished to do was upset the Emperor and give him cause to question her obedience. So, she paused her preparations and headed for the Magitek Armor hangar, where Kefka said he wanted to demonstrate the newest developments in Gestahlian armored support.

As soon as she opened the door to the hangar, she was struck by the hot, humid air from within. Steam generators roared on either side of her as she made her way across the floor and up the stairs to the metal grating where Kefka stood, watching over the workers below with smug glee. He turned to greet her, and she noticed his flamboyant makeup had begun to run with sweat, twisting his drawn-on features into a grotesque mask.

"Ah, General Celes, how nice of you to come," he said and bowed deeply before her. "I was afraid I had fallen below your lofty notice."

"You have," Celes replied. "But you haven't fallen below the Emperor's, and that's why I'm here."

"As cold as ever! I shall make this quick then, before you freeze the whole facility. Where would our steam-powered armors be then, hm?"

"Then get on with it. I have preparations to attend to."

"By all means. Follow me." He led her across a narrow catwalk above the work floor to a pair of heavy doors guarded by soldiers. At his command, they turned the wheels to open them, and saluted as he and Celes walked past.

"As you are aware," Kefka continued, "I officially specialize in the research and optimization of Magitek Armor for special operations. But that is only a sliver of what I have accomplished for the Empire, and of what I still aim to do. I have worked on various weapons for the army for most of my life, long before I began my infusions. But once I got a taste of magic, I was desperate to harness it, to weaponize it. And I believe I have finally done so."

"Then why tell me about it?" Celes snapped. "Why not show the Emperor?"

"Oh, I have, I have! And he was delighted! But I thought that you, with the magic that flows in your veins, would like to see it firsthand, as well. I thought that you might appreciate it."

"And what is it?"

"Nothing less than the power of an Esper, my dear general!" He flung open the door to a sparsely-furnished room, and Terra looked up from where she sat on the floor, knees drawn to her chest, eyes dull and vacant.

"Terra!" Celes stepped toward her, but Kefka placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Not so fast, Celes. That isn't Terra anymore."

"What do you mean? What have you done with her?"

"Just tinkered with her a bit. All the parts were already there; in fact, there was one part too many." He strode across the room and patted the top of Terra's head. She didn't react. "You see, she had a pesky willfulness that kept interfering with her development as the perfect bioweapon. Once that was taken care of, well, you can see the results."

"What? What did you do to her?" Celes advanced, waving her hand in front of Terra's face. "Terra! Terra, look at me! It's Celes. Talk to me, Terra! Say something!"

"Ah-ah-ah, it seems you don't have as much authority as you think you do." Kefka smiled at her, at once saccharine and sour, then leaned close to Terra's ear. "Terra, my pet, show our good general what you can do."

As Celes watched, Terra nodded, raised her hand, and cast a high-level fire spell across the room, scorching the brick wall. Her expression never changed. Celes shivered.

"You haven't answered my question, Kefka," she said. "What did you do to her?"

"I gave her a gift, is all." He ran his fingers along a slender band around Terra's head. "It's lovely, don't you agree?"

"Is that…that's a slave crown!"

"Finally! You've got it! A simple fix for a willful girl."

"Why did you do it?"

"I told you. To utilize her full potential."

"But why…why did you show—"

"Why did I show you?" Kefka chuckled. "To unleash yours." His smile turned into a grimace and his eyes flashed. "You think you're so perfect, don't you, Celes Chere?" he asked, his voice going down a register. "Because your infusions were successful! Because you play by all the rules! Because you're a big-shot general now, and think you have the run of the army! Well, think again!" He slapped Terra on the back, and she shot an Ice spell toward Celes, who dove out of its path.

"I don't care what you think of me, Kefka," Celes cried. "But how dare you use Terra like that! How dare you turn her into a weapon!"

"I haven't done anything the Empire didn't do to me. Or to you."

"She trusted you!"

"That was her mistake." Another slap, another spell. Celes jumped out of the way again, then tried to appeal to Terra once more.

"Terra, please! I know you can hear me! Snap out of it!" She reached out and placed a hand on Terra's shoulder and was immediately thrown back by a Thunder spell.

"How dumb are you, Celes?" Kefka said. "She can't hear you. She can't hear anyone but me."

The crown. Celes rose to her feet and steadied herself, trying to gauge the time it would take her to reach Terra and remove the slave crown. She glanced at Kefka, then sprinted toward Terra. She managed to get a hold of the crown this time, but a Fire spell to her spine reduced her to a heap at Terra's feet.

"Goodness, I haven't done that in quite a while." Kefka shook the smoke from his fingers. "Felt good. But not as good as watching you suffer."

"Kefka," Celes growled, pushing herself up and administering a healing spell to her back. "You will pay. I will take you down, and I will save her!"

"Oh really? Perhaps you'd like to try, Rosa celestis."

"What?" Celes felt the blood drain from her face.

"You heard me. You were a darling at the research facility from day one. Cid's precious little rose. How adorable. How disgusting!" He lashed out, sending a wave of magic toward Celes, who drew her sword in time to absorb most of it.

"Oh yes, Runic," he continued. "I saw you learn that, too, and perfect it. Laughing all the while. Talking. Teaching. Dancing. Like normal little girls. Normal little nuisances!"

Another wave of magic. Celes adjusted her grip on her sword and waited. Kefka was growing angrier by the moment; he was sure to let down his guard.

"What made you think you were normal? What made you think you could escape your destinies?" He laughed, long and low. "Foolish little girls. Stupid little girls! Stupid, stupid!"

Now. When he raised his arm to cast another spell, Celes moved in to strike. He was too quick for her, however, and jumped back, so that only the tip of her sword grazed his ribs.

"Ooh, looks like this rose has thorns," he said. "What would happen if Emperor Gestahl found out about your little outburst?"

Celes swallowed hard and said nothing. She knew exactly what would happen. The Emperor would side with Kefka, and her career would be over before it began.

"Good. It looks like you understand. For that, I'll let this one slide."

"Why are you doing this, Kefka? What do you want?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're in my way. But I can't simply kill a soldier, a general, and not face consequences, right?" He shrugged. "So, I'll let you do it for me. Continue letting those emotions get the best of you, and I won't have long to wait. And then…" He stroked Terra's cheek. "…I'll have my little weapon all to myself."

"You disgust me."

"The feeling is mutual." He grinned, then summoned the guards. "Remove this woman from the premises; she is annoying me."

Celes shook off the guards' hands. "Don't bother," she said, glaring at Kefka. "I'll show myself out."

Once outside the hangar, where she could breathe again, Celes contemplated the situation. Kefka clearly had the upper hand at the moment, controlling Terra and her powers, and recognizing how to use her to bait Celes into fighting him. He seemed to know so much of her and Terra's time in the greenhouse years ago. How much had she told him? How much had he seen for himself? Celes vaguely recalled the shadowy figure she saw there one day, and realized now that that must have been him. What was he looking for, waiting for? Had Terra even arrived at the greenhouse on her own volition, or had he been behind that, too?

How much of her relationship with Terra was genuine, and how much had been carefully manufactured?

No, she thought, stopping the spiral of doubt, not all of it was his design. Terra enjoyed spending time in the greenhouse. She enjoyed talking. She enjoyed asking questions. Kefka certainly wouldn't have wanted her to do that. Satisfied that Terra had acted on her own while inside the greenhouse, at least, Celes considered how she might free her from Kefka's control now. She knew that, as long as he kept Terra close, she didn't stand a chance; she would simply have to bide her time and wait for Terra to be dispatched on a mission.

And if she wanted to survive long enough for that, she needed to curtail her emotions. Heading back toward her quarters, she made a vow to herself: she would no longer give her emotions any say in her duties; they were reserved for freeing Terra and putting Kefka in his place. In any other circumstances, she would live up to her reputation as cold and calculating.

She would be made of ice.

Celes ran the last rebel through with her sword and watched him bleed out at her feet. Then, with a nod, she sent her troops into Maranda to enforce the Emperor's wishes.

"People of Maranda," she said, as soldiers ransacked houses and fought with citizens, "lay down your arms and pledge your allegiance to the Gestahlian Empire, if you wish to avoid future bloodshed."

"Never!" one villager cried, and hurled a rock toward her head. She knocked it away with her sword, then calmly dispatched him with an ice spell. The townsfolk gasped.

"That's right; it's magic. A power lost for one thousand years, at my disposal. And yet you think you can stand against me? Against the Empire?"

"We will die trying," another villager said, then charged at a soldier with his sword drawn. The skirmish ended quickly, and not in his favor.

"I will ask you once more only. Lay down your arms and pledge your allegiance to the Empire, by order of His Imperial Highness Emperor Gestahl!"

"Never!" The cry went up in unison this time, and Celes ordered her soldiers to retreat.

"Then," she said, "you leave me no choice." She closed her eyes and muttered an incantation, quickly and repeatedly, hearing one roof after another catch fire. When she opened her eyes once more, Maranda was in flames. "Know the power of the Empire! Know the fates you have wrought for yourselves! Perish by the sword or by the flame; it is your choice, but there are no more alternatives."

As the fires spread from one building to the next, the townsfolk scattered, some running into buildings to try to save their belongings and never coming out, others facing down soldiers in battles they could not win. When, at last, the fires had burned out, very little of the town—and townsfolk—remained.

The few survivors dropped to their knees and turned their ash-streaked faces toward Celes to beg for mercy and swear their allegiance, and whatever they had left, to the Empire.

"Was that so difficult?" she asked. "You could have saved many lives, if you had only done this from the beginning. Nonetheless, I acknowledge your allegiance, and claim Maranda as part of the Empire in the name of Emperor Gestahl. You are expected to pay twenty percent of all earnings in tribute to the Empire monthly, beginning next month, and if I catch even a whisper of rebellion in this town, you will suffer the same fate as your neighbors. Understood?"

The townsfolk clamored in agreement.

"I'm glad we understand one another. I hope you have learned a valuable lesson today. Pass the knowledge to your friends in other towns. You may yet redeem yourselves."

After posting several soldiers to the town's entrance to ensure Maranda's compliance, Celes headed back toward Vector with a heavy heart. Somewhere deep inside herself, she felt the gravity of what she had done: the screaming and begging soured her soul, and the smells of burning buildings and flesh turned her stomach. Her actions today were unforgivable, she was certain, but she could not let her emotions cloud her judgment. She needed to stay strong, and play her part within the Empire, if she wanted any chance at saving Terra.

The screams of the people of Maranda still echoed in her mind weeks later, twisting her heart and drowning out the praise Emperor Gestahl had heaped on her for her actions. There was no honor in what she'd done, no glory for anyone except the Emperor. The bleeding rebel at her feet haunted her dreams, and he asked her why she did what she did, in much the same way as she'd demanded answers from Kefka. And each time, she'd give him a different answer.

Because I had to.

For Terra.

For a friend.

For someone dear to me.

For love.

She bolted upright in bed after the last dream, drenched in a cold sweat. For love? What did that mean? Love didn't entail killing others, it didn't entail decimating villages. Love was supposed to be gentle and kind, something—the one thing—Terra had sought above all.

Perhaps, then, that was the reason: Celes killed so that one day, Terra might find love.

The people of South Figaro put up less of a fight than those of Maranda. Celes only had to implore them twice to lay down their arms and swear allegiance to the Empire, and she didn't have to strike down a single citizen.

"I've got to hand it to you, General," one of her soldiers said, "you've created quite the reputation."

"Oh, yes," Kefka sneered, having deployed several Magitek Armor riders throughout the town, "General Celes is simply outstanding, isn't she?"

Celes ignored him. "Maybe you're right," she told the soldier, "but this seemed too easy. Check the buildings for hideouts or secret passages. They're hiding something."

"How nice it must be to have soldiers hanging on your every word," Kefka said, watching the troops disperse. "No one dismissing you as 'mad' or 'unstable'. Of course, they don't know the real Celes, do they? The thorn on the rose?"

"Be quiet, Kefka. You've deployed your troops here; isn't it time you headed to Narshe?"

"Okay, okay, I'm leaving! But I'm not going to Narshe, yet. I figured I'd take a little detour, and check in with good old General Leo in Doma."

"That's an awfully long detour. What business do you have there?"

"None, personally. But, as the Emperor's messenger, plenty." He shook his head. "I can't fathom how Leo ever became a general. The man has no idea how to end a siege."

"The siege hasn't gone on that long. The Doma forces are sure to run out of supplies soon."

"But not soon enough for my liking, or Emperor Gestahl's."

Celes narrowed her eyes. "What are you planning?"

"Oh, nothing much. Just a tiny, decisive action."

"It's not your place to take such actions."

"Since when does that matter? We're half a world away from Vector. Who's going to stop me? You?"

"You can't bait me into fighting you, Kefka. Now, leave."

"Fine." He turned toward the docks, then glanced over his shoulder. "It's a pity you can't come with me. The poison turns the water such a lovely color; it really is a sight to behold!"

"Poison?" Celes grabbed Kefka's arm and spun him around. "You're going to poison their water supply?"

Kefka chuckled. "Yes. Isn't it a grand idea?"

"It's a horrific idea! The Domans are days away from surrendering. You don't have to kill them all!"

"Oh, so now you have a conscience! Most convenient."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't seem to recall you sparing Maranda any mercy. From what I've heard from the troops there, you sounded absolutely callous." He smiled, sending a shiver down Celes' spine.

"That was different. They refused to surrender."

"So does Doma."

"But Leo already has them under siege."

"And I'm going to help him out."

"No. You're not." Celes drew her sword. "I won't let you do this, Kefka. I can't let you do this."

"Spare me your dramatics, Celes. You and I are not that different, and you know it. We kill. That's what we're designed to do." He touched the tip of her sword lightly. "Yes, designed. You're not a person, and neither am I. We're tools to be used. Just tools…just…like…Terra."

"Stop it!" Celes swung her sword in a wild arc before her, catching Kefka's hand and slicing through his palm. "You are not getting on that ship, Kefka. I order you to remain in South Figaro until the operation here is complete!"

"Order? You can't order me." He looked at his hand, then at her, his pupils dilated, his grin stretching from ear to ear. "I answer to Gestahl, nobody else. The only way you'll stop me is to kill me." He took a step toward her, waving his hand in the air, spattering the ground with blood. "So, come on, General Celes. What's it going to be? It's in your hands, now. The fate of Doma. The fate of Terra. Just one little swipe. Just one itsy-bitsy stab. C'mon! What're you waiting for?"

"Nothing!" Celes jabbed her sword forward, slicing through Kefka's clothes but hitting the armor he wore beneath. The vibration of the impact traveled along her blade, through her arms, to her shoulders, and she cried out and dropped her sword.

"General Celes!" Several soldiers ran up to her. "What are you doing? Why did you strike Kefka?"

"She's gone mad, that's why," Kefka said, holding up his hand. "She wants to usurp the Emperor, to claim South Figaro in her own name. I tried to stop her and look! Look what she has done! She cut me!"

"Celes? Is this true?"

"Of course it isn't," Celes insisted, retrieving her sword. "When have I appeared mad to you?"

"It only takes one time," Kefka said. "One instance. If I hadn't worn armor…why, I'd be dead, and who knows who would have been next?"

"Shut up, Kefka!"

"You see, you see! She's so hostile! She's a traitor, the very traitor she told you to look for! Lock her up, boys, lock her up before you all end up like me!"

"What? No!" Celes fought against the soldiers that descended on her and pinned her arms behind her back. "How can you believe him? He's on his way to poison Doma! He's going to kill everyone there!"

"Madness." Kefka shook his head and clicked his tongue. "The girl has gone mad. Please, for her sake, as well as your own, take her away. It will be a mercy."

"Let me go!" With a final push, Celes managed to break free from the soldiers and retrieve her sword. But as she straightened, she came face-to-face with Kefka's smile, and the bright spiral of a Stop spell emanating from his uninjured palm. As her body grew heavy and her mind grew dim, a simple plea rose to the surface.

Forgive me, Terra. I've failed you.

Forgive me.

Please.

Chapter 4: As the Moon Chases the Sun

"Why did you do it?"

For love.

"Why did you attack Kefka?"

Kefka?

Celes' thoughts ran sluggishly, bleeding into each other and making little sense. She surfaced from her induced sleep slowly, and took several minutes to register her surroundings. A dusty room somewhere below South Figaro. Rusty shackles wearing through the skin on her wrists. How long had she been down here? Kefka must have poisoned everyone in Doma by now. And she hadn't stopped him.

She deserved to die.

"Why'd you do it?" The voice demanded of her again. She looked up and squinted into the light of a lamp, and saw the figure of an Imperial soldier standing beneath it. "Why'd you turn on Kefka? On us?"

"Don't bother reasoning with her," another soldier said. "The only thing out of her mouth has been some babble about Doma. As if the Empire cares!"

"I tried…I tried to stop him," Celes said, her tongue swollen with thirst. "Kefka was going to kill everyone there."

"Still running that mouth, huh? Well, you won't be for long. Tomorrow's your big day. As soon as we get the order, whoops, it's off with your head!" The soldier laughed.

"How far the mighty Celes has fallen," the other said. "To think I once admired her."

"You were wasting your time even then. She always was a cold fish. It'll be hard to tell when she's finally dead!"

More laughter. Celes hung her head and closed her eyes and drifted out of consciousness once more.

She awoke again to the sound of soft footsteps approaching, and saw an unknown man standing before her. Before she could ask who he was, he fished a small, thin piece of metal from his pocket and began picking at the locks on her shackles. With a click that resounded in the quiet room, one shackle opened, then the other, and Celes collapsed to the floor, her legs unable to hold her weight so suddenly after days—or weeks—of being supported by the shackles.

She rubbed the raw skin on her wrists and frowned up at the man. "Who are you?"

"Name's Locke," the man replied. "I'm with the Returners."

"The Returners!" The name cut through the haze in Celes' mind, and drove an icy bolt of guilt into her chest. "I'm so sorry. I've done so much harm…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about what I've done. I'm Celes Chere, and I'm—at least, I was—an Imperial general. Before I was branded a common traitor, that is."

Locke nodded, his expression unreadable. "Well, Celes, I didn't free you to hang around here and chat. Let's get going!"

"You'd take me with you? Even knowing who I am?"

"So long as you don't harbor any love for your old employer."

"Oh, goodness, no!"

"Then we're on the same side. C'mon, let's get you out of here."

Celes rose on shaky legs, unsure whether this was real, or a dream brought on by her delirium. She took a few tentative steps forward, then braced herself against the wall. Her muscles refused to work. How long had she been here? She looked at Locke, tapping his foot and casting frequent glances over his shoulder, and she shook her head.

"I can barely walk," she admitted. "I appreciate what you've done, but even if you got me out of here, I'd only be a burden, at least until I got my strength back. No…I'd be better off waiting here for the executioner. At least then I'd die with pride."

"What good's pride if you're dead? It's okay…I'll protect you."

Celes snorted. "I doubt you can."

"At least let me try! For the sake of my pride."

"Very well. Lead the way. I've been down here so long I no longer remember how to get out."

She followed Locke down the hallway with mincing steps, at first, hugging the wall until her muscles stretched and walking became comfortable once more. By the time they encountered Imperial commanders on the way out, Celes felt well enough to engage her former subordinates in battle. They regarded her with shock, as if she were a woman risen from the grave, and before they could sound the alarm of her escape, they were dead. Perhaps she should have felt some measure of guilt, she thought, but remembering that they'd taken Kefka's word over hers and sentenced her to death for it obliterated whatever goodwill she'd ever held towards them.

The sunlight nearly blinded her when she exited the building, and she waited until she and Locke were well clear of South Figaro to speak to him again.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked. "Not long ago, I would have been your enemy."

"But you're not anymore," he replied with a shrug. "Besides, you remind me of someone…but that's neither here nor there. I'm helping you 'cause I feel like it!"

"I'm not convinced you're telling me everything."

"You're overthinking things. I just can't stand to see a lady in trouble, that's all."

"I'm not a lady, I'm a gen—former general. How did you even know I was there?"

Locke laughed. "Well, you see, in addition to being a charming hero, I also happen to be an avid treasure hunter. I was snooping around, heard the soldiers talking, and there you were."

"So, you're a thief."

"I don't take kindly to that term. A thief steals from anyone and everyone. A treasure hunter, on the other hand, is more selective. They explore, they survey. And when they find something valuable that is no longer valued by its owner, they liberate it."

Celes shook her head and sighed. Locke seemed to harbor delusions of his own, though nowhere near as dangerous as Kefka's. But she had little choice of her company at the moment, and even less say in where that company took her.

"Where are we headed?" she asked as she followed Locke toward the mouth of a cave.

"Straight through here, to Narshe. It shouldn't take long. We'll meet up with the others there."

"Narshe?" Celes froze, recalling her final briefing with Emperor Gestahl. She would lead the invasion of South Figaro, while Kefka was tasked with attacking Narshe and securing the Esper there. "The others?"

"Yeah, the Returners. Is there a problem?"

"Yes, there is! We have to hurry. Kefka is on his way to Narshe as we speak, if he hasn't already arrived. He's after the Esper there."

"What? Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Locke charged into the cave.

"I didn't know where we were headed!" Celes followed him into the darkness, unsure where she belonged at the moment, but determined to stop Kefka, and exact her revenge.

She would recognize that green hair anywhere. The moment she stepped through the door of the house in Narshe, Celes' eyes were drawn to a familiar face.

Terra.

Why was she here, and with the Returners, no less? Was she their hostage, or was she here of her own will? How had she managed to get away from Kefka? Was she still under his control?

Celes hardly had time to ponder these questions before Locke introduced her to the others, and a man with a dark mustache recognized her.

"So, it is her!" he said, narrowing his eyes and striding up to her. "I thought she looked familiar. The infamous General Celes…the woman single-handedly responsible for the decimation of Maranda. Stand and meet thy judgment, Imperial bi—"

"And what judgment might that be?" Celes asked, calmly. "I no longer serve the Imperial army. I no longer have a title, or a home. I was branded a traitor and sentenced to death, and it is only by sheer luck that Locke found me. So, pass your judgment as you see fit, but know there isn't much you can do to hurt me anymore."

"Yeah, Cyan," Locke chimed in, "Celes is a former general. She's promised to help the Returners!"

Cyan looked from Celes to Locke and back again, the crease between his brows deepening. "Be that as it may—"

"You don't trust me," Celes said, "and you have no reason to, yet. But allow me to help you, then use your own eyes and see for yourself which side I'm on."

He glared at her for a moment longer, then nodded curtly and took his leave. Celes turned her attention to Terra, approaching her with a gentle smile. Terra glanced at her, then down at the floor, betraying no recognition of Celes.

"I…I was also an Imperial soldier," she admitted quietly.

"I know." Celes drew her lips taut to maintain her smile. Had Terra really forgotten her? "Terra…Who'd have thought we'd meet again…like this?"

"You know my name?"

"We were—we ran in similar circles, back in Vector."

"You can use magic, too, right? But it's different from mine."

"Yes. I was an Imperial Magitek Knight. I was infused with magic when I was very young."

"I don't think I've ever met anyone else with magic before." The old curiosity flashed in Terra's eyes. "Is it possible for you to love other people?"

Those words, that same inquisitive expression, sent Celes back in time seven years to a late summer afternoon in the greenhouse, where they argued the same topic, and somehow, wound up dancing. That afternoon when she tasted companionship; that afternoon when Kefka's shadow first stretched across her life. She swallowed hard and blinked rapidly, forcing back the tears, wondering if Terra had asked that question to elicit this specific response.

"Are you mocking me?" she asked.

"No. I just wondered…if not being able to love is the price we pay for having magic."

She truly had forgotten everything. Celes sighed. "If that is the case," she said gently, "do you think it's worth it?"

"No. I think it's unfair."

"Me too. Unfair…like so many other things." She reached out and clasped Terra's hand. It was still as hot as a Fire spell, still far too soft to belong to a former soldier. Terra cast her a confused look and pulled her hand away.

"We have to go now," she said. "We have to protect the Esper."

The hike to the cliff where the Esper stood was somber. No one spoke more than a few words at a time, and silence descended heavily on the group, broken only by the rhythmic crunch of snow underfoot. They split into three small groups and arranged themselves along the base of the cliff, ready to cut off the Imperial troops at every possible route. While they waited for the soldiers to approach, Celes looked up to the sky and drew a deep breath. She had seen stars before, on her other missions; but she had never really looked at them until now. They were every bit as beautiful as Cid had told her years ago, stretching overhead into eternity. To think she'd wanted to count them! She couldn't hold back a soft chuckle at her childish ambition.

Terra turned to her, one eyebrow raised. "Why are you laughing?" she asked. "There's nothing funny here."

"Oh, it's not that," Celes assured her. "Just a pleasant memory. About the sky."

Terra looked up. "It is beautiful. I wish I could remember if I've seen it before. It feels…familiar."

"Everyone, look sharp!" Locke's voice cut through the quiet night, and Celes instinctively assumed a battle stance. "They're here!"

Indeed, they were. Several dozen soldiers marching in formation, and behind them, an armored officer atop a hideous beast. Bringing up the rear, half-walking, half-floating, was Kefka.

"Ah, do my eyes deceive me," he said upon reaching the base of the cliff, "or has my little lost pet come back? Terra, come here!"

"Leave her alone," Celes and Locke cried in tandem, each stepping forward and drawing their weapon. "You can't control her anymore," Celes added.

"My, oh, my, what's this? General Celes! You're supposed to be dead!"

"You won't be rid of me that easily."

"So it seems. Pity. But this is good; it saves me the trouble of hunting you down later. My troops will pluck you limb from limb, like the petals off that little flower you loved so much. Prepare to die, Rosa celestis!"

Terra whimpered and clutched her head in both hands. "Rosa…celestis?" she said.

"Hey, Terra," Locke said, "pull yourself together! We've got a battle on our hands!"

"I…I've heard the name before. Sometime, long ago…"

"Terra!"

"Celestis…Celes…Celes! It was you? That rose, those plants…"

"Oh, what a touching reunion," Kefka sneered, giving the signal for his troops to advance. "Are you going to dance, like you did back then? Dance for me, girls, dance! Dance like your lives depend on it!" He laughed, then abruptly stopped and glowered at them. "Because they do!"

"Terra, this is no time to try to retrieve your memories," Celes said, advancing toward the oncoming troops. "We have to protect that Esper!"

The mention of the Esper pulled Terra back into the present, and she followed Celes into battle.

Despite all she had forgotten, Terra thankfully remembered how to use magic, though higher-level spells eluded her. Between her and Celes, they made quick work of the soldiers in their path, then doubled back to help the others. When all of the soldiers had been dispatched, and the group had faced down the Hell's Rider, Kefka drifted toward them, alternately laughing and cursing.

"You just can't get good help these days," he said. "The lousy ones die, the obedient ones leave, and the good ones turn traitor. What is an Empire to do?"

"Lose," Celes said, and led off the battle with an Ice spell. Her companions followed up with their own attacks, driving Kefka back and eliciting a string of curses from him. Without Terra's magic at his disposal, he was little match for the rest of them, and he seemed to realize that, retreating in the midst of battle.

"Don't think you've won," he growled. "I won't forget this. And you won't live to forget the next time we meet!" He mumbled an incantation, then vanished into thin air.

"Kefka, you coward, get back here and fight!" Celes ran forward and swung her sword at the place he had been moments before. "Kefka!"

"Celes, let him go." Locke said, bandaging a wound on his arm. "Check on the Esper; that's our priority."

At the top of the cliff, the Esper stood encased in ice. Moonlight glinted off its edges, and beneath the ice, Celes saw a colorful array of what appeared to be feathers.

"Whew, the Esper's safe!"

Cyan peered more closely at it. "It also appears to be…alive."

"Alive?" Locke squinted to get a better view of the Esper. "How could that even be possible?"

"Because it's made of magic," Terra said, approaching the Esper. "It doesn't live by the same laws of nature that humans do."

"Uhh, Terra? Are you all right?"

Terra shook her head violently. "No," she cried. "No!"

A bright light emanated from the space between Terra and the Esper, knocking the rest of the group off their feet. Celes shielded her eyes and called out for Terra, but received no response. As quickly as it had appeared, the light faded, and standing in Terra's place was a lithe creature covered in fine pink hair, a wild mane trailing behind it. It was clearly frightened, and took several steps backward toward the edge of the cliff. Its eyes darted around, and when they met Celes', she saw a familiar light within them.

"Terra?" she ventured, rising slowly and extending her hand. "It's you, isn't it?"

Terra looked at her hand, her eyes widening further, then leapt off the cliff with an ear-splitting shriek and flew through the air, disappearing over the mountains.

"No, come back! Terra!"

Locke, roused by Celes' cries, sat up and rubbed his head. "Ugh, what happened?"

"It's Terra!"

"Terra! Where is she?"

"She transformed into…something…and flew away. She was so frightened, but so beautiful. She looked like…she looked like an Esper!"

Could it be, Celes wondered. Could the Esper before them have somehow awakened the dormant half of Terra's heritage? If so, why? What did it intend to use her for? Where had it taken her? And would she ever regain her human form?

"We have to go after her," Locke said, already descending the cliff.

"I'm going with you." Celes jogged to catch up.

"We'll split up," Edgar said, joining them. "Those not searching for Terra will stay here and protect Narshe. As for the rest of us—" he grinned at Locke and Celes, then pulled his brother Sabin into their group, "—Figaro Castle can shuttle us to Kohlingen, on the other side of the mountains. Once there, it shouldn't be too hard to find someone who's seen a pink lady streaking through the sky."

With every step she took from Narshe, from the frozen Esper, Celes battled the irrational fear that she would lose sight of Terra for good. Would that she could just fly across the mountains, too! The men around her walked at a steady pace, not languid, but not particularly hurried, either. She often walked in front of them, though she had no idea where Figaro Castle stood relative to her current position.

"Relax, Celes," Locke called to her. "We'll find her, I promise!"

She slowed her pace until she was walking with the group again. Perhaps Locke was right, and she should relax. After all, the position she was in wasn't exactly new to her.

She had always been chasing Terra, it seemed, in one way or another. Whether to best her record on the training ground in Vector, or to search her out among the Imperial ranks, or to try to save her from Kefka's control, every time she found her, Terra managed to slip away again. Celes chased her as the moon chased the sun, eternally, tirelessly, drawn to a warmth she did not possess herself. And just as the moon and sun sometimes shared the same sky, her and Terra's paths would cross, all too briefly, before pulling away from one another again.

Once upon a time, in what felt like a lifetime ago, she'd answered a dying man in her dreams. She'd killed him for love, she said, but not her own. She killed, so that Terra might one day learn what love was.

And that is why she continued to chase her now. So that Terra might have a chance to live, and to love, and maybe, just maybe, Celes could share in that joy, too, if only for a moment.

If only for a moment, maybe they could share the sky.

~ The End ~Back to Top

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Dee Moyza's Story Stash

As the Moon Chases the Sun (Final Fantasy VI fanfiction)

As the Moon Chases the Sun (Final Fantasy VI fanfiction)

Chapters

Chapter 1: The Esper Girl

Chapter 2: Childhood's End

Chapter 3: Crown and Thorn

Chapter 4: As the Moon Chases the Sun

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March 2026

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