Children of the Magi
An In-Depth Novelization of Final Fantasy VI

Book One: Orbis Pondera

Prologue
Girl of Fire

Lieutenant Cyne Sutherstrom walked forward ever so hesitantly into the pool of blood.

Already, alarms were being set off throughout the Imperial Palace in Vector, a mindless, rattling racket sounding throughout the world, but, as far as the eighteen-year-old Cyne was concerned, that was a very, very far off sound, one that hardly occupied his attention as he merely acknowledged its presence in the very back of his mind.

Medics were probably being rushed from everywhere around the palace, soldiers as well, to contain the situation. Already, he could hear footsteps in the distance, as well as orders being hollered for various men to be assembled. In the metallic pyramid of the Imperial Palace, a pyramid which stretched for the skies in full industrial splendor, everything was to be performed at peak proficiency, perhaps as Vector's testament to high technology. The soldiers knew where they were to report to in emergencies such as this, and the response team would be here quickly, especially those who would conduct the relief efforts.

Cyne wasn't certain that the medics needed to come, though. The scorched, if not still-burning, bodies lying across the crimson pool seemed to have all life extinguished from them.

It was sunset at Vector, as the skies cast a fiery orange glow throughout the sky, not quite unlike the color of the flames dancing at the perimeter of the Imperial Palace, right outside the bleak, metallic, gray-and-brown palace walls. On the other side was the city of Vector itself, buildings built out of wood and stone, not impressive at all compared to the metallic splendor that was built before it. The buildings themselves reached heights of two stories, perhaps even three, but they were still dwarfed by the palace itself. Sharp angles of the factories within the Imperial Palace jutted into the sky, casting harsh shadows through the cityscape, painting a morbid picture of the largest capital of the world. Fires flickered, danced through the air, but Cyne slowly navigated through fire and blood, his boots silently moving across cobblestone on the street filled with at least a dozen bodies. He recognized some of the bodies, two Imperial soldiers here, a child there, some passer-by to the right, and yet another two children in front now...

All scorched. All burning. All dead.

Cautiously, as Cyne's long white hair danced with the flames, he continued forward into the center of the circle of bodies and fire. He knew that there was someone now, a soldier, who was situated directly next to them on top of the twenty-foot-high castle walls, watching this, coordinating the relief effort, shouting orders that Cyne wasn't paying attention to. Cyne didn't care; he didn't report under their command. Instead, he continued walking, walking into the center of this massacre. Because, before him, there sat a small, lithe figure in the center of the circle of fires, and, unlike the others, she wasn't scorched, burning, or dead.

Cyne quickly suppressed a sigh, which would've been inappropriate for the situation, and the spirits of the dead around him would not appreciate such a gesture of frustration. But it was the third time in four years.

His boots clicking quietly against the cobblestone ground, Cyne finally made his way next to this small figure, this small child who sat in the center of dead bodies and burning fires. With a great amount of courage mixed with fear, Cyne knelt down next to her. It was an understatement to say that Cyne was scared; truth to be told, Cyne was terrified. He could already envision his charred, black corpse, burning a bright orange along with every other body here.

But, somehow, he had a gut feeling that it wasn't going to happen to him. And Cyne's gut feelings had a habit of being usually right.

He could hear quiet sobs now, short, wet, gasps of breath from the figure who sat there, hunched together like a little ball, crying, exerting her sorrows through its common exhibition, tears. There she sat, barely four feet tall, dressed in white robes stained red with the blood that had flowed through the cracks of cobblestone and under her like thousands of little rivers and creeks, staining that white into a dark crimson. Her dirty blond hair, almost a pale green, flowed from her head, touching the ground, and its appearance, with the blood matted onto them, seemed a lot more ghastly than the bodies around it.

Cyne knelt there for a moment, allowing the crying girl to sense his presence, to let her know that he was there, before whispering ever so softly and gently into her ear.

"Terra," came out of Cyne's lips, "Terra Branford."

The girl's sobbing came to a decrescendo as it decreased in volume, her sobs becoming less frequent, before the six-year-old girl turned her head slowly to the right, and cast her wet, green eyes onto Cyne's own. She sniffed once, but, as far as Cyne was concerned, the danger was now defused.

"What happened?" Cyne asked kindly, almost as though he was asking a question about what cookies Terra liked best, "Terra? Answer me. What happened here?" He knew that he had to take this carefully, slowly. This is a young, six-year-old girl, Cyne reminded himself, a sensitive little girl who will light you ablaze if you make her cry.

Terra sniffed once. "They were bullying me," Terra whispered, her voice cracking at the edges and sounding ever so innocent, "They were making fun of me and throwing rocks at me..."

Cyne nodded in understanding, suppressing the second sigh that became stuck in his throat in the last one minute. Imperial edicts go out for a reason, Cyne thought to himself bitterly.

"Well," Cyne asked, "Are you alright?"

Terra seemed to mull that question over for a moment, uncertain as to how to answer. Finally, she looked herself over, looking at a body covered with blood that was not hers. Either she could tell whether the pool of blood had some of her own in it or not, or she didn't really have a clue. Regardless, she nodded.

Cyne smiled as the medics finally appeared from behind the walls of the Imperial Palace, closing down on them. Other relief workers hauled buckets of water, beginning to put out the flames. A sergeant was barking orders as he came down upon them. Gently, ever so gently, he placed his arms around Terra, one across her back, the other across her legs, and lifted her up gently, not minding the blood that had gotten onto his clean black uniform, or, at least, pretending not to mind. With Terra in his arms, Cyne walked slowly back towards the Imperial Palace, steering himself clear of the corpses on the ground, ignoring the salute that the sergeant in command gave him as he passed. He only needed to bring Terra back to the Palace.

"Terra," Cyne whispered with a frown and looked down when he sensed that Terra's breathing had eased, and she was calmer now, "You'll have to learn..." Cyne paused in mid-sentence, and a sigh finally come out from his mouth this time, but it was accompanied with a small, soft smile.

Terra was asleep.

---

Downing his mug of ale, Cyne silently put down the glass container as soon as he had finished the last remaining drops of his drink. One mug of ale was not nearly enough for the alcohol to go for his head, but Cyne still felt tired, nonetheless. As he sat at a table for two at the local bar, the Green Dragon, his tired eyes looked around the building; other figures were also seated on wooden chairs in front of wooden tables all around, their faces barely visible with the dim lighting in the room. There was a slight commotion from another side of the room; that would be some Imperial soldiers, obviously getting drunk and having a small party of their own.

Cyne didn't mind. It was none of his business.

Overhead fans spun and spun, almost providing a hypnotizing effect for Cyne as the cool air brushed through his long white hair, which reached for his waists and also covered a bit of his clear blue eyes, which, by now, were tired. He looked over across the bar; the bartender had disappeared somewhere, and now, only four other tables were occupied, three of them by civilians, one by that group of partying Imperial soldiers. Cyne knew better than to cause a ruckus at such an hour and had half a mind to walk over there to reprimand them.

This is not one of those nights, Cyne thought.

The paperwork and questioning that had caught up with him last night and this afternoon was not something he had been looking forward to when Terra decided to set a dozen of the city's population on fire. Naturally, the higher echelons wanted to know why the situation was out of control, and, when talking about the half-human, half-Esper girl, Cyne's superiors refused to cover for him. Of course, Cyne knew that he would not be prosecuted or face any charges if he handled it correctly; he had the Emperor to thank for that. But it was still a very tiring process that he never wanted to undergo again.

"Colonel Vickers never approved of your transfer to Military Intelligence," a voice said in a matter-of-fact voice as someone sat himself down into the seat opposite Cyne's. Cyne turned slowly and glanced over the familiar man who was now drinking his own mug of ale, smiled.

"And I'm sure the colonel approved of your promotion to squad leader in the Imperial Air Force," Cyne gave a tired grin. The newcomer smile lightly, bobbed his head just a bit in agreement. He put down his mug, rubbed his short blond hair for a moment, then proceeded to loosen the green uniform of his, indicating that he was an officer of the IAF. The young man, unlike Cyne, had a gruff, business-like look to him, although Cyne knew that it only went skin-deep; when off-duty, Wolfang Swift was rather relaxed and friendly, and had a cynical sense of humor that was sometimes a pleasure to listen to. Like Cyne, he was yet another young man who volunteered for the corps in order to fight for his Empire; like Cyne, Wolfang had not even reached his twenties yet.

"You'd be surprised," Wolfang replied with a grin, "At least Colonel Vickers doesn't see me doing a pen-pushing job behind a desk."

Cyne laughed, leaned back against his chair as it made a groan as Cyne settled his lean body against it. He placed his hands behind his head, relaxing. "Yes," Cyne grinned sarcastically, "You are now pushing buttons, seated behind the controls of a sky armor. Big difference."

Wolfang laughed at that, and took another drink of his ale. Cyne allowed him to drink, bringing an interval to what would've been a very long period of banter. Laughter exploded from the other side of the room again; the Imperial soldiers at the table were obviously getting rather drunk.

"What has it been, Wolfang?" Cyne asked, his eyebrows raised, "Two months, three? I can hardly keep track of the goddamned time anymore."

"Three," Wolfang nodded, placing his mug down, "Yeah, three sounds right. With you here in Vector and myself in the campaign in Chiron."

Cyne slowly nodded, noting that they had just stepped onto uncomfortable ground. "Chiron..." he whispered.

"We were lucky we had MagiTek," Wolfang said as he turned to the left slightly, his eyes distant as if exploring hallways of his memories that he did not necessarily want to revisit, "They had a lot coming, came with everything at us. In the end, we had no choice, just..." he formed his hand into the shape of a gun, "...bang, razed the city to the ground. You won't be finding Chiron on the world map anymore."

"No," Cyne agreed quietly, pressing his hands together and looking away as well, "We won't."

Wolfang nodded for a moment, quiet, allowing himself to think for just a moment. After what seemed like an eternity, Wolfang spoke again. "I heard about what happened yesterday," Wolfang said bluntly. Cyne rolled his eyes and groaned, moved his hands to his eyes as he closed them.

"Don't get me wrong," Wolfang said cautiously, knowing that it wasn't something to talk about easily to Cyne, and especially not in a bar, where alcohol tended to loosen the tongues of men, "But I was mostly wondering if you were alright handling the girl. I'm not privy to the plans of the higher echelons, but I figure you're stepping into the wrong territory, man. A very dangerous territory that I'm not sure I like to see you in."

"I am not going to disobey a direct order from the Emperor, if that's what you mean," Cyne muttered, his eyes still closed as he rubbed them through the eyelids with his hand.

Wolfang paused for a moment, then shrugged. "I didn't know they came from that high up," Wolfang replied, paused again, then added, with a bit of an edge in his tone, "You sure you're fine telling me this?"

"Wolfang," Cyne's voice sounded tired as he continued to lean back in his chair, "The Emperor had issued an edict two years ago when they decided that Terra should be allowed to walk around the city every now and then. It's no secret that Terra is special. And those foolish enough to ignore the edict and molest Terra just because she's different..." Cyne stopped, let the words hang in the air. Wolfang would be astute enough to figure out the rest.

Wolfang shrugged. "So that's the case that happened yesterday?" he asked.

"It wasn't justyesterday," Cyne continued, his eyes still closed, still tired, "This is the third time in four years. The first time it happened, she killed the Branford family in the process, setting the house on fire. That's why she's in my custody now. Then she did it again a year ago, when the children started taunting her. She burnt them directly. And then there was yesterday..."

"I get it, I get it," Wolfang interrupted Cyne, knowing that it was sensitive ground for him, "Although I'm not sure you're supposed to be telling me this."

Cyne looked at Wolfang in an annoyed manner while still leaning back. His chair was precariously balanced on its rear two legs, and every now and then, it made a creak or two. "Wolfang," Cyne muttered slowly, "I'm an intelligence officer. I know when it's prudent to keep my mouth shut, and I know what I'm not supposed to talk about."

Wolfang grinned. "I was under the impression that the intelligence community loves to gossip," Wolfang licked his lips, "But no worries, I know you. I think it's probably why they dumped the girl on you in the first place. Everyone's going to tell you secrets, and if it's blown, you'll be the first to be suspected. You should have learned to yap when you want to."

Cyne snorted, covering his eyes with his arm. "I never would've made it into the intelligence community had I done so," Cyne whispered.

"True, that," Wolfang agreed, and took another sip of his ale.

---

"Terra, we need to talk."

Terra turned her head quickly in Cyne's direction, her bright and ever-attentive eyes meeting Cyne's immediately. Sitting on the green carpet with a new pair of white robes on, she fixed her attention from a crayon drawing to Cyne, who was now standing right beside her. Her gaze nearly disarmed Cyne; Cyne loved the clear eyes of this girl of his, and Cyne felt difficult to have to discipline her in any way. The desire to spoil her almost got the better of Cyne, but Cyne steeled himself. She would have to understand.

It had been three days since Terra had set a dozen people on fire. Among them were six children who had teased her, a woman who, according to witnesses, berated her for being "special", three soldiers who stood there laughing at the scene, and two uninvolved prostitutes who had the misfortune to pass by. Cyne knew that this incident would spread through rumors like a wildfire across Vector, and fear and contempt for Terra would only build. There would be grumbling everywhere, and hate for the girl. The edict would be obeyed, at least, for a while, while the populace remembers that Terra could, and would, burn people to a crisp should she lose control. But that itself did not solve the problem, and Cyne did not approve of keeping Terra confined within castle walls.

You cannot keep a six-year-old girl in a castle and defend her against problems she will have to deal with sooner or later, Cyne reasoned to himself as he steeled himself, staring in Terra's eyes as he reminded himself why he needed to do this.

Terra probably considered Cyne's housing in the Imperial Palace the only safe haven in a world of strangers. As a middle-ranking Imperial intelligence officer, Cyne was required to keep his post within the palace. He was not high-ranking enough to earn himself a manor down in the Imperial Residential District to the east of the palace, but his own "housing" was not half bad. As intelligence officers were elevated to mythological status by the military hierarchy, Cyne found his position being elevated daily, rank being pulled apart from himself and the simple grunts who fought on the frontlines. Cyne's quarters was typical for a lieutenant of Imperial Intelligence, otherwise known as "Double-I" or "Double-Eye". With one bedroom, one living room, one kitchen, and one bathroom, Cyne's personal space was probably the equivalent of twenty regular infantrymen. His quarters was not, by any means, luxurious. Like almost every other room in the Imperial Palace, it was metallic, although the carpenters at least did a hastened job of putting up yellow wallpaper, which Cyne appreciated immensely. He also spent some funds to have the entire floor paved with green carpets ever since Terra came in. Technically non-regulation, but the officials close to the Emperor gave him the nod; they seemed to approve giving Terra more comfort.

Any soldier who did not know Cyne's special situation would've laughed with a glance through the room; Cyne did not have too many belongings himself, but the entire place was littered with Terra's own personal trinkets, including toys, balls, dolls, and crayon drawings taped unevenly on the walls. Cyne had always wanted to laugh a bit every time he saw one of those drawings, but reminded himself that this was a six-year-old girl he was dealing with, with unchecked enthusiasm and dreams for the sky. He put up with it and smiled.

Cyne sighed, tired, as he dropped down to his knees beside Terra in the living room, then decided against it as he sat down completely, cross-legged. Cyne made a soft roaring sound, like a tiger who has caught his prey, and tickled Terra softly. Terra giggled as she tried to pry his fingers away. Cyne smiled inwardly; how he adored this little girl, this girl with curling, dirty blond hair, and blue eyes that seemed to be made of the waters that Mother Earth endowed upon the planet.

"Such a cute little girl," Cyne cooed to the little girl squirming in his hands, "One day, a bad guy is going to come along and snatch her away."

Terra playfully stuck her tongue out at Cyne and smiled sweetly. Cyne smiled back as he stopped tickling Terra and settled her on his lap, looking down at her. "Terra?" he whispered.

"Yes?" Terra replied softly.

Cyne pursed his lips. "We need to talk about what happened three days ago."

The smile disappeared from Terra's face almost as if it had been wiped out by an eraser. But, after a moment, she nodded slowly, calmly.

Cyne sighed as he pursed his lips; now that he got Terra listening, he didn't know how to proceed. He thought for a moment, watching Terra's ever-intent eyes on him, before he finally struggled with the reply. "Terra..." he said awkwardly, "...What you did three days ago..." he paused, groped for words, and finished pathetically, "...it was wrong."

Great job, Cyne, Cyne berated himself in the back of his mind.

"What I meant was," Cyne began picking up speed, hoping he did make himself seem too foolish before Terra, "People died three days ago. They were burned, and they died."

Cyne cursed himself as he watched Terra looking at him, her face so full of curiosity and uncertainty and sadness; how in the world do you reprimand a girl for multiple-murder? He should have consulted someone first, or asked someone with better people skills to handle this.

Yeah, Cyne made a mental sneer, someone will know how to deal with a girl who killed a dozen people by the age of six. He immediately regretted his choice of words immediately, and gave himself a mental slap. He suppressed a sigh; he was tired, and the fact that Terra had burned a dozen people didn't help.

"But they threw rocks at me," Terra whispered, her voice barely audible, "They were being mean to me."

A typical six-year-old response, Cyne thought.

Cyne licked his lips. "Terra," Cyne said as he rocked Terra in his arms gently, "Some people are afraid of what they do not understand. You are a very special girl, Terra, and you do not deserve this, but some people don't know that. They are not bad people, just people who are afraid."

"But why are they afraid of me?" Terra asked in a quiet, curious voice, almost hurt, as if anyone would ever be afraid of a small six-year-old girl like her.

Well, because you have the ability to set people ablaze and kill them almost instantly, Cyne's mind received his first answer, and that the Empire is giving you special consideration; that is sure to piss off our taxpayers.

No, that obviously wouldn't do.

"Because, like I said, you are very special," Cyne replied slowly, "You can use magic, something that no one has been able to do for one thousand years. So many, many people don't really know what magic is, and they are afraid because of that. So we're trying to is to let everyone know that you are a good girl with the power to use magic. We want them to understand, but people cannot understand when you set them on fire. Magic is a good and a bad thing..."

"How does something be good and bad at the same time?" Terra frowned, not understanding.

Cyne smiled. "Imagine a knife," Cyne said, jabbing two fingers outwards as if it was a blade, "A knife can help you cut things, like paper or bread, and it's a lot better than tearing. But, at the same time, it can cut people, hurt people, kill people."

Terra blinked and frowned. "But that is not the fault of the knife," she whispered, as if she were the one teaching Cyne, and not the other way around, "It is the fault of whoever uses the knife. This does not make the knife good or bad."

Cyne had to stop himself from frowning; for a girl her age, Terra was unusually perceptive. "Well, yes," Cyne agreed, "But such is the same as your magic. Your fire. When people are cold, you can use fire to warm them, but, at the same time, you can use fire to hurt people, like what you did three days ago."

Terra looked away for a moment, but it was obvious that tears were welling in her eyes. Cyne cursed inwardly; he should not have directly associated Terra with the deaths so many times. Cyne wrapped his arms around Terra gently, rocking her back and forth. "Terra, Terra..." Cyne whispered to the girl gently, "You are a good girl...but you need to learn to control yourself. No more hurting people when you get angry or sad."

"But they were mean to me," Terra sniffed.

And back to the question at hand, Cyne made a mental groan.

"Terra," Cyne said, "Have you ever been mean to anyone?"

Terra shook her head almost immediately. Cyne didn't need to be told that; he could not imagine his little Terra bullying anyone. He pursed his lips again, tried another method. "There was once a poor family, a father, a mother, a boy, and a little girl, like you. They did not have enough money to buy any food, and the boy and the girl were often hungry. The mother and the boy got sick, but because they did not have enough money for a doctor, the mother and boy died, leaving only the father and the daughter alone in the world. One day, the little girl becomes hungry, but they have no money left for food. So the father goes into a store and steals the food in the store. As he tries to run away, though, a soldier who was passing by saw this, and swung his sword at the father's head, killing him..." Cyne turned his head to Terra, who seemed to be frightened and saddened by the story, "...Do you think the father should have died?"

Terra thought for a moment, probing for the emotions hidden deep within her heart, then shook her head slowly.

"But he was being bad," Cyne continued, "He stole from the shopkeeper."

Terra frowned ever so slowly; it seemed that she was having a bit of trouble trying to catch up with the logic. Undoubtedly, Terra sympathized with this imaginary father, but could not find any way to express why he felt the father should not have been punished.

Finally, Terra spoke. "But if he didn't steal, then the daughter would be hungry," Terra replied softly.

Cyne nodded. "She would," he agreed.

"Then why didn't anybody give him a job?" Terra demanded, seemingly furious as tears streamed down her cheeks, and Cyne figured he had gone too far, "If he had a job, then he would have money, and buy food for her daughter."

Cyne smiled softly. "Because no one would give him a chance," Cyne said simply. Terra listened to Cyne utter these words, and fell quiet for a moment in deep thought. Cyne watched as the gears inside Terra's head spun and spun, seemingly finding some traction. When Cyne felt that Terra had enough time to think for herself, he spoke once again.

"Would you give the father that chance?" Cyne asked. Terra looked at Cyne, then nodded.

"Then will you give other people a chance?" Cyne ventured, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice, "Give them a chance to understand you?"

Terra thought for a moment, and Cyne could sense reluctance from the child in his arms; obviously, she was thinking about the flying rocks that had struck her from before. But, after what seemed to be like several eternities, Terra nodded slowly.

"Promise?" Cyne winked playfully, smiling.

Terra smiled weakly back as she held out a pinkie. "Promise," she replied.

Cyne, however, stared bewilderedly at the pinkie, not quite understanding the gesture. Terra seemed to pick up his confusion, and hastened to explain. "Here," she said as she grabbed Cyne's arm and pulled out his own pinkie before hooking it to hers, "We go like this..." and, as serious as a noble signing a treaty between two nations, she said evenly, "...It means we make a promise."

Cyne smiled foolishly, seemingly amused by this rather foolish gesture as he stared at Terra, wondering what his teammates back at Imperial Intelligence would say if he were caught doing this with a little girl.

They'd understand, Cyne thought to himself absentmindedly; somehow, he felt as if he had just jumped over one of life's greatest hurdles, and he was not about to allow thoughts like that disrupt the savoring of victory over destiny.

"Okay, then," Cyne nodded as he grinned, matching the smile that formed on Terra's face moments later, "Promise."

---

Cyne took in a breath, let it out as he tugged at the collar of his black uniform of an intelligence officer. Already, the elevator ride into the underground levels of the Imperial Palace had gone into its thirtieth second, and Cyne wasn't sure he wanted to know what was down there. Rumors or two always managed to make it from the Empire's vault of secrets here underground, home to MagiTek and other contraptions the engineers design for the Empire, rumors that often were not appreciated. If half the rumors were true, Cyne knew that he would have to watch his step around here, unless he wished to be the next test specimen for an experimental biological weapon.

Cyne felt extremely vulnerable here, half a mile underground, and the cramped space of an elevator seemed to be closing on him. Cyne closed his eyes involuntarily and muttered a silent curse.

The elevator slowed, made a pleasant ding sound, and the double doors to the elevator. With a sigh, and some difficulty, Cyne stepped out of the elevator.

The interior of the greatest labs of the world, located underground in Vector, home to some of the most brilliant scientific minds in history, was not actually very different from the industrial surface world of the capital city. Metal illustrated practically every detail in the lab, and everything was in harsh, hard angles that jutted here and there, creating a labyrinth of gray and brown. While Cyne appreciated efficiency, he sometimes wondered why his empire never bothered to make their workplace a more pleasant place to work in.

Cyne sighed. He was wasting time, and he had no intention of missing an appointment that was scheduled by his superiors. He walked into the halls of the labratories.

The hallway itself was nothing impressive. It had been designed for the sake of simplicity and utility rather than for the workers to derive any sort of comfort from their working environment. The floors, walls, and tiles were plastered by metallic tiles that drew squares as far as Cyne could see. The industrial lighting from the roof, however, was sufficiently bright enough for Cyne to see everything in the entire facility, which really wasn't much for scenery, anyways. With doors on either side, Cyne paid special attention to the numbers on each one. Apparently, the number itself was important, as Cyne was not allowed to write it on paper, but to commit it to memory. This was sign that the said scientist was probably working on some high-profile project...and that was the last thing Cyne wanted. More secrets to guard. Cyne had a sneaking suspicion that Wolfang was laughing at Cyne's transfer; more often than not, intelligence officers were prime suspects when there were information leaks.

Cyne found his number, stopped before the door. To Cyne, the door seemed the same as any other door, unadorned, plain, metallic, built in the same fashion everything else in the Empire was built. There was nothing special about this one, but Cyne hesitated as his hand hovered right next to the metal, wondering whether or not he should knock, as if the door was suddenly trying to suck Cyne in, and Cyne was struggling to escape its grasp. Already, Cyne did not look forward to what was beyond that door. When intelligence officers were given the briefest of briefings, they knew to expect the worse, because intelligence officers were never left out of the dark, unless it was something way beyond their heads. Cyne had a feeling this was one of those times.

In quick succession, Cyne knuckles rapped on the metal three times.

"Oh!" a voice from inside came through the metallic door, "Please come in, the door's unlocked."

Cyne stress-analyzed the voice; the owner of it seemed to be in his early thirties, precise, apt, befitting that of a scientist. They all have that particular accent, Cyne told himself. With a intake of breath, he held it there for a second, steeled himself, and walked through the door. Let's get this over with.

The office of what was undoubtedly one of the most important scientists of the Empire did not seem like what Cyne had envisioned in spare moments in the past. While Cyne was not expecting a lush office complete with woodworks and maple leaf, Cyne assumed the entire place to be sterile, filled with scientific equipment, neat, orderly. He did not find any of these. The entire place was littered with paperwork, personal trinkets, books, and pictures. The walls were in the same manner as the hallway outside, metallic, hard, and cold, but the floor had been remodeled to furnish a thick red carpet that seemed quite clean. Industrial-power lights shone down from the roof, giving the place a powerful glow. There were several graphs hastily taped to the wall, graphs that Cyne could not read and did not care to understand, and a record player sat in the corner of the metallic room. There were also what seemed like children's toys all over the place along with documents, some stamped with the words "TOP SECRET"; Cyne was careful not to step onto any of them as he made his way to the desk of Doctor Cid Chere, trying to find any source to delay him for a while, a pictures of scientists, high-ranking officials, any many other pictures of a little girl.

Cyne saluted as best as he could, killing an urge to swallow in front of a civilian...albeit a civilian that outranked him. "Lieutenant Cyne Sutherstrom reporting in, sir," Cyne snapped to attention.

Doctor Cid Chere looked up from where he was seated behind his desk, a fountain pen in his hand as he seemed to be completing a very complicated document on his desk. Cyne noted that what struck him most was that the doctor seemed to be wearing a yellow coat. He had thought that most scientists wore white, until he remembered that yellow coats meant the particular person also had administrative powers over the industry of the Empire. The fact that he was standing before a powerful scientist did nothing to lessen his unease. He had brown hair that flowed back from his scalp, a bushy mustache, and seemed to harbor well-fed features.

"Ah, Lieutenant Sutherstrom," Cid smiled, surprisingly effusive, as he stood up from where he was sitting, "I was looking forward to this meeting. Yes, I hope you are well?" He extended his hand for a handshake.

"Yes, sir," Cyne nodded slowly as he awkwardly dropped the salute, looked at Doctor Cid's hand for just a moment, then shook it hesitantly, "Thank you, sir."

Cid waved a dismissive hand at Cyne as soon as Cyne released it as he rounded the desk and motioned for Cyne to follow. "No need for formalities," Cid replied, "I don't like standing on ceremony, and quite honestly, I don't care. I apologize, but we're going to have to go back up to the surface again..." Cid smiled kindy, "...Our young Celes Chere has decided that she was going to go play with the children today."

Cyne found himself rather confused as he followed Cid out of his office, casting a look back into the lab. Somehow, for the last three minutes, nothing seemed to be going the way it should be. As the two stepped into the hallway and began heading for the elevators, Cyne spoke again. "With all due, respect, sir..." he started.

"Please," Cid insisted as he laughed, "Cid will do. I don't like officers calling me with formalities all day."

Cyne swallowed, and, with great difficult, tried saying Cid. It didn't come out right, though; it was probably the atmosphere in which he was under. True, Cid did not seem like the serious, demanding type Cyne had assumed he was when he had walked out of briefing, but the fact that he was walking in forbidden territory under the Imperial Palace, and the fact that he was now accompanying one of the most important figures in the Empire, did not help much with any form of relaxation. Cyne came up with a compromise. "Yes..." he nodded slowly, "Yes...Mister Chere."

Cid laughed again at Cyne, casting an amused glance at Cyne as he pressed a button to call an elevator, and the metallic double doors slid open silently for them to walk in. "Military type, eh?" Cid grinned as he walked in, followed by Cyne, "Very well, if you must address me by a title, I suppose Doctor Cid will do. That fine with you?"

"Absolutely, sir," Cyne replied, then hastened to correct himself, "I mean, doctor. As I said, Doctor Cid, with all due respect, I do not quite understand the circumstances of this appointment."

Cid raised an eyebrow as the double doors of the elevator closed, sealing the two in the metallic cube, and their vessel began a forty-second ascent to the surface above. "What don't you understand about it?" Cid asked curiously.

"Well," Cyne pursed his lips, "I was given a very scarce briefing, doctor. I was not informed as to why I was meeting you, nor the justifications of it. I was merely given orders to meet with you there. Doctor."

Cid smiled a bit, crossed his arms as he looked at Cyne straight in the eye. "Military-type indeed," Cid grinned, then sighed, "Very well, then. It really isn't much of a secret, so I do not see why your superiors are making such a fuss about it. I arranged this appointment."

Cyne blinked. "You did, doctor?" Cid asked, "I was under the impression that these were orders from above."

"Oh, no," Cid laughed, "I merely needed to get a hold of a busy officer like you. I thought an appointment might make things seems a bit more official, although I'm not sure I would like that. But there are rules to be played in such a game, although I've broken one or two myself." Cid winked, and, at that, the elevator slowed to a stop, a ding sound resonated through the elevator, and the doors opened to reveal the interior of the Imperial Palace. Cyne felt a bit more comfortable here; there was a lot more open space and the sky to look forward to. Still, though, it did nothing to dispel his confusion. The two stepped back out into the halls of the Imperial Palace, still surrounded by gray-and-brown metal around them. The corridors themselves were spacious enough, and Cyne and Cid moved to the right side of the hallway as a squad of soldiers marched past in double-file.

"I'm honored," Cyne said, following Cid closely, not sure if he felt the same way, "But I still don't understand why I am the one here."

"Oh, it should be obvious," Cid shrugged as he turned Cyne through a door leading towards the palace walls, "You are the guardian of Terra Branford, after all."

Cyne nearly missed a step as he heard the words. True, such a thing was not a secret. After all, everyone in Vector knew Terra was special, if only because she could burn people with her mind. But, most importantly, why would someone attempt to arrange a meeting with him just for the sake of him being the guardian of Terra?

That question was so obvious you shouldn't have asked, Cyne, Cyne thought to himself, and steeled himself for the worst.

The door opened in front of them, and the two walked out into the sunshine as they exited through a side door. A patrol came by, saluted Cyne as they passed. Cyne did them the favor of saluting back as he and Cid continued walking towards the door in the side castle wall. While Vector did not have much for gardens, the space between the walls and the palace itself seemed to harbor forms of architecture that depicted ancient machines and modern technology, a testament to development of the Empire.

"I had wanted to see you before," Cid admitted, "Circumstances be damned, though; I never got the chance. So I jumped when I saw it, pretty good, eh?"

"Yes, Doctor," Cyne replied, again, not sure if he meant it or not. Cid merely smiled as they reached the door on the side palace wall, and pushed it open.

To the east of the Imperial Palace was the Imperial Residential District, a quarter-mile square of land that was occupied by rows and rows of high-grade housing, given to high-ranking officers and other nobles of the Empire. Like the rest of Vector, they were built with only practicality in mind, each building constructed with some metallic alloy and built almost like a cube, but as Cyne and Cid walked down the road, paved evenly with brown bricks, Cyne could see that the houses themselves seemed to carry a bundle of technology. There was electric lighting surrounding the houses, and the doors themselves carried an electronic lock instead of a normal key lock. The buildings themselves seemed like small manors, each about three stories tall. Cyne also knew that each building was designed like a fort; even with the new MagiTek armor that was being rolled out of the Imperial Palace several months ago, it would take several of them to level the place. Some trees lined the streets, seemingly the only cosmetic comfort that could be derived from Vector. Guards were also staked at almost every block for patrols, but it seemed that it was a rather boring job; no one was stupid enough to try and cause trouble in the Imperial Residental District. Somehow, Cyne did not have any doubt that Cid had a house somewhere in this district.

"So, tell me about yourself," Cid smiled, looking at Cyne as the two of them walked towards god-knows-where, "I'm dying to know how a young man like you came about to be a lieutenant in Imperial Intelligence."

Cyne pursed his lips; he guessed it was a pleasant subject to talk about on their way, and he probably didn't know what else to bring up. "Well," Cyne replied, "I was drafted into the military at the age of sixteen. The Empire needed fighting men for their campaign around the rest of the continent, and I became one of them. Like many others, we became known as the infans militis."

"Excuse me?" Cid frowned, not recognizing the term, "Infans...?"

"Infans militis," Cyne repeated, "It means 'children soldiers'. Most soldiers around my age were drafted or volunteered for the corps at a young age. I have a friend in the IAF, Wolfang Swift, who also falls in this category, although he volunteered. We're recognized by the green bar we wear on our chest for sacrificing our youth to the Empire."

"Ah," Cid nodded, seemingly finding this interesting, "Do go on."

"I was supposed to be stationed for the general campaign against Chiron," Cyne continued, groping deep in his mind for memories that he thought he had long forgotten, "As you know, remnants of the Kuboc Republic had fallen back to Chiron, and the Empire wanted to capture the key members of the resistance. I failed the physical test, though, and I was first placed as private in a supply company. However, I was later recruited by Colonel Jeremiah Vickers, who was trying to pull together a surgical hit squad to root out and eliminate high ranking officers within our own ranks. There were many high-ranking officers with connections to boot, and trying to arrest them would be a political pain in the ass; not only would we not receive authorization, but they would be freed by their connections even if we arrested them. Colonel Vickers wanted to train a group of fresh soldiers, recruited from people he chose among the infans militis, and form them together as a hit squad."

"Sorry," Cid interrupted, "But by 'hit squad', you mean..."

"We assassinated our targets, sir," Cyne replied with absolutely no emotion laced in his voice, "We needed a permanent solution, and, hopefully, their deaths would discourage others from attempting to leak out information to the resistance. I was in charge of intelligence, and it was my job to scout out the area prior to a mission, coming up with possible plans, and keeping my team in-the-know about everything that could and would show up in the mission."

Cid smiled tightly; while he would've found these credentials impressive, he wasn't sure if it was appropriate to praise someone who obviously worked with assassins before.

"After a year, though," Cyne continued, his eyes unfocused, "We experienced nearly ninety-percent casualties. Twelve of our numbers had died, five too wounded to continue active duty. There were only three of us from the original squad that had survived without major injuries. Thus, Colonel Vickers disbanded the squad a year ago, promoted me to lieutenant, and sent me off to Imperial Intelligence after I chose to take the job."

"Do you like it there?" Cid inquired, his eyebrows raised. They were fast approaching a small park in front of them, with several benches, a playground, a sandbox, and several trees around it. Cyne could only imagine that it was built to please the young children of the residents here. Already, he could hear the delighted squeals of children far away.

Cyne thought for a moment, then nodded slowly. "It's a nice job," he said, "I know that a lot of my comrades are having a worse time with frontline infantry. It's strictly a desk job, but regulations in there are tighter than hell. But the pay is good, I work in considerable comfort, and I see my family often. My father has owned a fabric shop ever since I was born, and I can send him money for expenses that his shop can't cover."

Cid smiled. "It's good that you are in such close contact with your family," Cid agreed as the two walked into the small park, "Many others are not as fortunate. And now, here we are..."

Now that they were back to the subject at present, Cyne realized he had no idea why Cid had brought him to a playground in the middle of the Imperial Residential District. He looked around slowly, almost as if he would pick up anything conspicuous, but the only things around him that were sentient, other than Doctor Cid, were children, many of them no older than Terra. Laughing as they ran around and played their games, the children bounced up and down, an animated scene that Cyne had not seen in a long time. A slow, involuntary smile crept onto his lips.

There were eight children running around, chasing each other around the playground, seemingly involved in a game of tag. While Cyne could've simply ignored them, Cyne silently noticed one of the girls who stood at the very top of the playground, watching the whole affair with ever-alert eyes, as if she were the chaperon of all the children. While she was not the oldest, the six-year-old girl carried herself in great authority and composure, her expression serious and proud. With long hair with slight curls, and icy blue eyes, her mannerisms seemed as cold as the color of her eyes. Adorned in simple brown clothing, only slightly taller than Terra, she seemed to almost be of the common folk, but there was nothing common about the way she held herself. She was not the tallest figure in the crowd, nor was she the oldest, but she definitely seemed much more mature and majestic than the rest of the children. The way she watched the entire scenario, however, struck Cyne as interesting. She seemed to continuously scope out the area as her eyes made several movements in a Z-pattern, upper-left, upper-right, lower-left, lower-right. Cyne marked that out as he thought about that.

"My niece, Celes Chere," Cid smiled, obviously noticing that Cyne was looking at the young girl.

"You mean the girl with the long blond hair?" Cyne asked, surprised that Cid knew which child he was looking at.

"Oh, yes," Cid laughed, and his voice indicated that he was quite honored and proud to be acquainted with such a child, "She's always the one the grown-ups notice first, if only because of the way she holds herself."

Cyne nodded in agreement. "She does seem like a..." Cyne paused for just a fraction of a second as he considered using the word "soldier", but decided against it as he finished, "...noble."

Cid smiled kindly. "I'm glad you agree." A young boy, undoubtedly "it", ran up towards the playground platforms, and the children who were on top wildly dispersed. However, Celes calmly watched as the boy approached her, studying his every move. The boy scrambled across the platforms, running towards Celes, and reached out to tag her. At the very last second, though, Celes saw that the boy's foot was angled left, meaning he would have more leverage to the right than the left. Celes jumped sideways, towards her right, as she quickly avoided the hand of the boy, before taking a very graceful jump off the platform, landing on the ground softly after a five-foot jump...backwards.

Cyne blew a low whistle. "She's quite acrobatic," Cyne admitted. Cyne noted Cid's smile, but, inwardly, he was more impressed with something else than Celes' acrobatics. Celes had watched her pursuer carefully before making a very calculated move meant for maximum efficiency; Cyne could not imagine a six-year-old girl exhibiting that sort of patience, courage, and, mostly, skill.

There is much more to this Celes girl than what is known, Cyne thought to himself quietly.

He was brought back to the present, however, as he realized that, as the boy had reached out for Celes, he also lost balance at the very last moment. Cyne noticed this one second too late and quickly jumped forward as the boy made a scream and began falling off the platform from where he had once stood. As he made a messy descent, his foot hooked onto two of the metal bars that held the platforms upright; there was a sickening crack as the weight of the boy, combined with the condition of his foot, screamed blue murder at his broken leg. He dangled there for just a moment before swinging into a position in which his inertia was redirected, and he fell onto the sand. The children quickly gathered around his limp and crying form and Cyne moved forward, prepared to submit medical aid.

"Everybody move back."

The three simple words were uttered in such a commanding and regal tone that Cyne found impossible to resist as he stopped right in his tracks. His eyes widened in surprised as he saw the owner of the voice as none other than Celes, who had knelt down beside the boy, her expression very calm, unlike the scared, anxious, and terrified expressions of the children around her. Cyne looked on as Celes knelt beside the boy.

"Manuel," Celes said very calmly and practically, "We need to get you to a hospital. Come on, let's move." She slung her arm around the boy's and prepared to lift him, but the boy only screamed ever more harder as he was reduced to pinful sobs.

"No, no, no!" he sobbed as he pushed Celes away, the pain in his foot killing him, his hands reaching weakly for his ankle, "No, stop it! It hurts, oh, it hurts!"

Cyne was about to go over and simply pick him up where he could carry him to the hospital, but before he could do that, a scene unfolded before him that Cyne found all-too-familiar...except that he did not expect to see it come out from anyone else but Terra.

Celes began to glow fainly, a soft, blue aura appearing around her body, before she settled one finger calmly on the boy's ankle. As she did so, his skin slowly became pale, just as ice crystals suddenly crystalized around his leg, freezing it. Crackling sounds were heard as the ice solidified out of nowhere, directed by Celes' pale finger, and finally stopped as Celes' lifted her finger from the boy's knee, deciding that it was enough. In the very back of Cyne's head, he could only barely register that Celes had been intelligent enough to realize that she had froze the boy's leg to make it numb, killing the pain so that she could move him. Somehow, the children around them, although fascinated, did not seem surprised or scared; they obviously had seen it before.

"Come on," Celes said with a grunt as she lifted the boy up by draping his arm over her shoulder, "Sam, help me." Another boy quickly converged on Manuel's other side, and the two of them quickly hauled Manuel towards a hospital, Cyne could only assume. However, he was far too submerged in a state of shock to fully comprehend this, and almost missed the motion of Cid suddenly waving towards him in the motion of asking Cyne to follow him as Cid walked towards the children, trailing them. Cyne hesitated for a moment, then, with difficulty, forced his legs to move and stepped alongside Cid.

"How...?" Cyne began, but deep inside, he had already figured out the answer. The final pieces of the jigsaw puzzle had been fit in place, and Cyne saw the big picture.

"MagiTek," Cid answered, smiling a bit, "Celes has been infused with MagiTek technology three years ago, when she was only three..." Cid frowned a bit as he turned away slightly, "...she was lucky. There were fifteen other children who were in the experiment. Celes was the only one who survived. It was intentional. The cells in which the MagiTek was infused grew by multiples of two, but they would be fully potent by the fifth phase. The best possible result for a MagiTek knight was to have fifteen other children infused with MagiTek, then have them forcibly extracted in phase five..." Cid sighed, "...There was absolutely no possible way that they would've survived the process. She was the most compatible, so she was the only one the Empire allowed to let live."

Cyne nodded ever so slowly. He understood the implications of such an experiment; a human infused with the power of magic would, no doubt, be a deadly weapon on the battlefield. Although he knew it was cruel of him to think of Celes as a weapon, somehow, he harbored no doubt in his mind that the Empire saw nothing inside her other than her value as a tool for destruction. "Have you told her about it?" Cyne asked off-handedly.

"Of course I have," Cid nodded sadly, regret not the only emotion that showed in his eyes, "I couldn't lie to her. Even if the truth is that she was a killer at the age of three..." he forced a smile onto his lips, as if there was something to look forward to, "...but she seems to be taking it well."

"She's been given military training," Cyne agreed, remembering Celes' mannerisms, "She must've learned mental techniques to protect her from shock and despair. She would be trained to turn any disadvantage into an advantage, to turn any weakness into a strength. I expected as much. The way she acted, watching the game of tag in a Z-pattern that scouts are trained to function, the way she was able to predict her pursuer's moves..."

"Celes will one day be a leader in his Imperial Majesty's armed forces," Cid said with a bit of finality in his voice.

"That explains things," Cyne muttered softly.

"Enough of this," Cid said suddenly, in a voice so pleasant that Cyne wondered for just a second if time had moved on without him, "Well, with you knowing Celes' secret now, I suppose you can figure out why I had wished to meet with you?"

"Well," Cyne crossed his arms, watching the convoy of children ahead struggle across the street, and wondering why he and Cid did not go forward and help them, "I do suppose I understand why you revealed the secret to me, although I'm uncertain why you revealed it at all. But, no, I'm not certain why you wanted to do so."

Cid laughed and looked Cyne over, stroking his mustache. "You're an intelligent young man," Cid noted as he stared at Cyne, "Just a bit slow on the social side."

Cyne didn't know how to respond to that. All he did was keep walking, and hoped that Cid would simply just tell him. He tried to keep a poker face to prevent him from seeming rude, but a crimson streak flushed across his face.

"If you do not mind," Cid said, "I would like to meet Terra."

For a reason that Cyne could not explain, he suddenly felt very defensive. "Why?" Cyne asked almost immediately, a bit sharper than what he had expected to come out of his mouth, and added, as an afterthought, "...Doctor."

Cid laughed, obviously noting Cyne's edginess, but not saying anything about it. "Cyne," Cid replied simply, "I'm a scientist, but, more importantly, I am also the sole guardian to a girl who is endowed with the ability to cast magic. I would like to see a girl who seems so similar to the one I treat as my daughter, if only out of curiosity's sake."

Well, that makes sense, Cyne thought quietly to himself, although he could not, for the life of him, find anything between Terra and Celes alike, other than the fact that both could cast magic. Their personalities were almost exact opposites, with clueless, innocent, and shy Terra compared to the strong, acute, and straightforward Celes. But he still hesitated.

Cid laughed, obviously noting Cyne's unease. "Oh, no worries, lieutenant," Cid smiled, "I'm not going to perform experiments on her. She's already endowed with magic, and I wouldn't wish to do anything to her."

Cyne considered for a moment. Cid didn't strike him as a fanatic scientist or a particular zealous man; in fact, he rather liked the scientist. Besides, the man had a point that Cyne found difficult to argue with, and considering that he had gone out his way to procure a meeting with Cyne...

"Alright," Cyne nodded in agreement, "I suppose it can be arranged."

Cid smiled happily. "I'll look forward to it," he beamed, "When shall we meet?"

"Well," Cyne thought for a moment, recalling his schedule, "Will Sunday do? I have work every other day, plus a meeting tomorrow, so..." he trailed off, leaving Cid to pick up his overtones.

"Of course," Cid agreed, "Sunday will be fine. I'll look forward to it."

---

Holding Terra's small, frail hand, Cyne took a deep breath as he stood before the door of Cid's house in the Imperial Residential District. Upon the appointed Sunday, Cyne found himself, as he had suspected, right in front of Cid's residence, nervous, with Terra looking up at Cyne, wondering what was making him sweat.

"Are you okay, Cyne?" Terra asked softly, apparently concerned, watching Cyne stand there for thirty seconds in front of the door without doing anything. It was sunset, nearing mealtime, and Cid had suggested that the four join each other for dinner.

"Yeah," Cyne nodded with the best smile he could muster, which didn't amount to much, "It's just a bit hot. I feel like sweating."

Terra looked at Cyne dubiously; it was only seventy degrees Fahrenheit. "Oh..." Terra said innocently, a bit puzzled, but determined to work it out in her mind before she said anything, "...Okay."

"Yeah," Cyne nodded and smiled again, with a bit of difficulty, before raising his hand to the door. He paused for just a moment, just like the time he was right in front of Cid's lab underneath the Imperial Palace, and, finally, brought himself to rap on the door three times.

And he waited.

For Terra, the wait lasted only seven seconds. For Cyne, it felt like a lifetime, most of it spent awake. When the door opened, Cyne looked down in surprise; it was Celes who had opened the door, her face composed and serious like the ice she controlled. She looked up at Cyne, studied him, then down at Terra, and looked at her. Terra, in return, seemed to return a very curious glance, one that Celes didn't seem to return, or, at least, controlled to a good extent. Celes seemed to recognize Cyne, though; it was obvious she had seen him with her uncle a few days before.

"Good evening," Celes offered a greeting as she nodded, and, although polite, her voice sounded official and authoritative, "Please identify yourself and state your business here."

Cyne suppressed a smile at the girl who would one day become a soldier; her mannerisms were already formal and precise. With a mock salute, Cyne smiled, snapped to attention, and replied, "Lieutenant Cyne Sutherstrom, ma'am. I am here by request of Doctor Cid Chere."

Celes did not seem amused, apparently not glad that someone was taking her as a child and playing games with her. She looked at Cyne for a moment, as if studying him further, which made Cyne feel uneasy; he had a feeling that, if this kept up, he would soon be crystallized and frozen. Thankfully, Cid's voice from behind the door prevented that from happening.

"Ah, Cyne!" Cid said from inside, "Celes, please let them through; I invited them over for dinner tonight."

Celes turned around at the voice, casting her gaze on wherever Cid was inside, then nodded. She opened the door for the two to come in. Cid smiled again at Celes, a bit easily this time, and walked in with Terra.

The house in which Cid and Celes had been given seemed much larger from the outside. Again, though, the walls of the houses were built like a fort, the walls being slightly thicker than a foot. It could withstand a direct hit from grenades and punishment from armor-piercing bullets. Even the windows themselves seemed bulletproof. Cid and Celes lived in relative security. At the far end of the complex was a staircase; Cyne could tell from the outside that the house was three stories tall. In front of him was a living room, while the living room and kitchen were to the right through two other doors. The house seemed rather neat; apparently, either they cleaned the house a lot more often than Cyne ever did, or they simply did not spend as much time at home. The walls were a clean white, and the carpet on the ground beige.

"Evening," Cid greeted as his head poked out of the kitchen at the far end right next to the foot of the stairs with a smile, a spatula in his hand, "Glad to see you made it."

"Thank you," Cyne laughed a bit, and looked at Celes, still standing to the side, still and poised, almost as if she were acting as Cid's bodyguard.Knowing her situation, Cyne thought to himself quietly, she probably is.

"Ah!" Cid exclaimed as he walked out of the kitchen, putting his spatula on the kitchen counter beforehand, "And this must be Terra!"

"Yes," Cyne nodded as he urged Terra forward, who had been, for a moment, hiding behind Cyne's legs nervously, and knelt beside her as he placed his hands on her shoulders, "This is Terra Branford. Terra, this is Doctor Cid Chere, and this is his niece, Celes Chere."

Terra nodded nervously at Cid, but she gave a shy, friendly smile at Celes, whom she must've labeled as a friend, a girl her age. Celes seemed to attempt to a smile in return, but it seemed much more like a determined grimace. Cyne had difficulties trying not to chuckle, but he managed.

"Welcome, Terra," Cid smiled as he petted Terra on the head, where her dirty blond hair curled, "I've heard much about you from Cyne. You're lucky to have such a guardian."

Terra smiled shyly, not certain of what to say. "Thank you," she replied quietly.

"I've heard of your abilities to control fire as well," Cid said quite cheerfully, careful about his voice control to make it sound like he wasn't accusing Terra of something, although Terra stepped back involuntarily at mention of this. Celes also shot a genuinely surprised glance at Cid and Terra as her eyes widened slightly in curiosity.

"Oh, don't worry," Cid beamed, "it's a gift you have, not a curse..." he shook his fist vigorously, "...You should be proud! Proud that you have abilities others do not!"

Cyne wasn't sure if he agreed with this statement, but he forced a smile and relaxed his hold on Terra.

Cid noticed that Terra didn't seem entirely convinced either, and pointed at Celes, who stood beside them. "Celes can use magic too," Cid whispered in a coy voice, as if pretending to share a secret with Terra.

Terra's expression changed immediately from reluctance to gleeful curiosity. "Really?" she gasped, and then looked at Celes, who, in thinking she should try and be polite, merely nodded.

"She can control ice," Cid smiled and winked, "The same way you can control fire."

Terra looked at Celes with a shy smile that seemed like acceptance; it was natural, considering that it was the first time she had met a girl who was like her, a girl who had the same abilities she did.

"Now, Celes," Cid said to Celes, "You be good and play along with Terra for a moment, now, would you? Cyne and I have some things to talk about in the kitchen."

Celes frowned as she looked at Cid, and, for a second, Cyne was fearful that Celes may be rejecting Terra. "Uncle," Celes said flatly, "We were cooking."

"But we have guests over," Cid replied, raising his eyebrows, "You should keep them occupied."

Celes nodded, as if this made sense. "I know that," Celes replied, seemingly trying to suppress a sigh, "But it is ruder for us to present poor food to our guests."

Cid had to blush, and Cyne chuckled softly as the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle fell into piece. Apparently, Celes was the better cook among the two. Or, perhaps more accurately, she was the only good cook.

"I can help your uncle," Cyne assured Celes with a smile, "and makes sure he doesn't mess anything up." Cyne looked at Cid, who smiled in relief.

Celes seemed hesitant for a moment, but, after a moment, relented, and turned to Terra. "Allow me to show you around," Celes said in an official manner, and Terra giggled at Celes' serious voice, which seemed to exasperate Celes a bit as she led her up the stairs.

"You two play nice, now!" Cid shouted up the stairs as they disappeared to the second floor.

"She'll probably be a good role model for Terra," Cyne smiled, watching them disappear behind the corner.

Cid gave a wry smile in return. "And I'd prefer to have a girl of Terra's personality play with Celes," Cid admitted, "I guess we'll do some more talking with our children at dinner. You mind if you help me about here in the kitchen, though? Celes said it all, and..." he laughed awkwardly a bit, "...I'm not a very good cook. I hope you weren't lying when you said you know how to cook."

"I do," Cyne assured, and, two minutes later, he was down to cooking several pieces of meat in a pan over a stove while Cid sliced vegetables with considerable difficulty. He seemed embarrassed with Cyne helping him, though.

"Sorry," Cid muttered, "I invited you over for dinner, and I forgot that someone would have to..."

"It's fine," Cyne promptly cut into Cid's apology, "I guess I should practice, anyways, although I'm usually the one who cooks for Terra."

Cid chuckled softly. "Don't you have a job to tend to, lieutenant?" Cid asked wittily.

"I do," Cyne grinned, "So if I can make it on time, I ask the cooks to send something up to her while I'm gone. They don't complain much about it, and I pay them a tab, so...yeah."

"Well, as long as she's fed," Cid smiled, "She seems a bit on the short and frail side. She should eat more."

"She doesn't have that much of an appetite," Cyne admitted, "Or maybe it's because she's afraid of becoming fat."

Cid snorted, grunted as he cut through a particularly hard part of a carrot, and replied, "She's too young to think of that kind of thing. Unless it's peer pressure?"

Cyne pressed his lips. "She gets peer pressure otherwise," Cyne said slowly.

"Oh, yes," Cid nodded, apologetic, "Sorry. I should've figured."

"Does Celes get the same treatment?" Cyne asked, curious.

Cid laughed. "Not really," Cid explained as he dumped his poorly chopped carrots into a soup they were brewing, "She had friends before we performed experiments on her, so they know what she is. It may give her a bit of a difficult time when the children mature and understand what's going on, but she has friends. And as for those who met Celes after she was infused with MagiTek, well..." Cid smiled, "...she acts as a guardian among them, so they respect her, even if they may not like her."

"I wish it was the same with Terra," Cyne muttered with a twisted smile.

"Oh," Cid shook his head, "There are advantages and disadvantages to everything. There's probably a lot of love in your house, Terra being the way she is."

Cyne seemed surprised. "Doesn't Celes love you?" he asked, frowning, "As an uncle, of course."

"Of course she does," Cid laughed, "But she doesn't express it very well, if at all."

"Of course," Cyne nodded, understanding, and berated himself silently for not thinking of that before. He supposed Celes would be that way for a very long time, perhaps even for the rest of her life. For a moment, he felt a pang of pity for Cid and Celes.

Laughter echoed from the second floor, originating from the familiar voice of Terra, and, surprisingly, Celes. Cyne and Cid paused for just a moment as they quietly listened to their girlish giggles, and, with mutual acknowledgment, smiled silently to each other.

"She seems to get along quite well with Celes," Cyne said softly as he happily turned back to his cooking.

"And Terra's good nature seems to be contagious," Cid replied with a grin, "I haven't heard Celes laugh in a very long time."

"Must be difficult," Cyne commented, looking at Cid in a not-so-surprised manner.

"Oh, it is," Cid admitted and smiled, "It's good that Terra's bringing out the best in Celes."

"Maybe Celes could teach a few things to Terra," Cyne laughed.

Cid smiled back, and the two worked in silence for a minute, hoping to catch another sign of the two girls laughing. After a period of silence, Cyne had already finished cooking the meat and put them on a plate, and the soup seemed to be ready. Cyne decided to put the finishing touches before asking Cid to call the girls down for dinner.

"What are the Empire's plans for Terra?"

Cyne spun around at Cid's unexpected question, and caught himself from over-spinning by clamping a hand on the counter. Cyne frowned a bit. "I'm not sure what you're saying," Cyne offered as a reply, although he had a feeling he did.

"What does the Empire have in mind for Terra when she grows up?" Cid rephrased his sentence carefully, "You know that Celes will one day be a soldier. I was thinking what the Empire would do with Terra when she comes of age."

Cyne looked away quietly, his lips pressed together, becoming a bold, straight line across his face. "I..." Cyne started, stopped, then finished lamely, "...I don't know. They never told me."

"Well," Cid persisted, "you never wondered why they would give such a girl to you? To be cared by another, to have a life outside an Imperial lab?"

Cyne shrugged, lifting his arms in frustration. "I..." Cyne tried to laugh, but it sounded awkward, "I really don't know. They never told me; I was curious, of course, but..."

Whatever Cyne had wanted to say, however, they were cut off by a voice upstairs.

"Uncle!" was the only word that they suddenly heard from upstairs, and it was a shout, a shout from Celes, in a tone that had gone very wrong. It was obvious that she was still in control of herself, no panic or fear in her voice otherwise. But there was urgency and uncertainty in that voice, possibly even desperation, and the obvious need to get immediate attention. And they could hear Terra crying, and a sound sounded distinctly like...

Fire, Cyne thought, widened his eyes, and whispered, "Oh, no." Without warning, Cyne immediately sprang up the stairs, jumping across the steps by four, while Cid followed quickly; for his stature, he caught up with Cyne rather well. It wasn't of much surprise; they expected a crisis.

As the two bounded to the second floor, they immediately saw Celes, standing poised at the head of the stairs; her hand was glowing a pale blue and outstretched in Terra's direction, as if ready to call upon her powers of ice on Terra if need be. She seemed ready, prepared, and steeled herself against any reluctance to have to perform the necessary. Terra, however, was crying in the middle of the second floor hallway, and the startling thing was that she was on fire, burning a brilliant orange. She was just standing there, wailing as drops of water flowed down from her cheeks and disappeared in the heat. She did not seem at all disturbed by the flames and the heat, nor did she seem like she was being burned. But Cyne wasn't about to take any chances, and the carpet around her was already starting to turn black with small embers burning around her.

"Terra, no!" Cyne shouted as he lunged towards Terra. He chose a very bad time to do it; a tongue of flame lashed out from Terra and struck the right side of Cyne's face as he jumped like a crack of a whip. A dark, bold burn that seemed like a whiplash formed on Cyne's right temple, but he didn't notice that yet. Cyne registered the damage in the back of his head as he felt the pain, but that was nothing compared to what Cyne was focused on, the only thing that Cyne was focused on.

Terra was crying. Terra was on fire.

Without warning, Cyne quickly grabbed onto Terra, quickly embracing her as he dropped to his knees. "Terra, Terra, calm down, calm down!" Cyne screamed, unaware that Cid was shouting for Cyne to back away from Terra several feet behind him, "I'm right here with you!" He was doing this, very aware that his own body seemed to be warming, getting hotter and hotter, and he felt the flames on him, he felt the fires on him that seemed to be swallowing him whole. For a second, the pain felt insane...

...And the fires disappeared. Cyne knelt there, breathless, wondering what had happened. Were the fires real? Cyne risked a peek at his hands and the other parts of his body. The fires were gone. There was no burns on his body. The heat and pain that he had felt were gone, except on the right side of his temple where he was first struck by fire. But he was fine. He had to repeat that sentence to himself shakily, forcibly pull those words out from a shaken mind.

It's. Alright. I. Am. Fine.

Cyne slowly looked at Terra, who was now sobbing on his shoulder not-so-quietly, wailing, obviously as shaken as Cyne was. She did not seem hurt in the least, and Cyne could only imagine that she lost control of her emotions and her abilities. Pandemonium followed thereafter. It was not unpredictable.

Cyne sighed, and, with effort, held on to Terra all the more tightly.

---

"I'm sorry. She's a bit unstable. Emotionally. I should have told you beforehand."

Sitting upright on a couch in Cid's living room ten minutes after Cyne had been burnt, Cyne made his misplaced apology to the doctor. Cid had ordered Celes back into her room, where she had disappeared without a fuss or a sound. Cid couldn't tell if she was angry or not, but the silence, for the moment, was welcome. Terra, however, was hiding in the first-floor bathroom; she had locked the door, and her sobs came at random intervals through the door. Cid sat right behind Cyne as he removed the ice pack from Cyne's head, and picked up a roll of bandages from the first-aid kit that he had placed on the table. The scar that Terra had burnt across Cyne's temple was not lethal, and seemed to only look like a dark, mean streak across his skin.

"Don't be sorry," Cid replied kindly as he started wrapping the bandages around Cyne's head, "It wasn't your fault. You didn't know. Girls can be like that sometimes. I think I'm the one to blame here."

"How so?" Cyne asked, holding his head absolutely still as the bandages were wrapped and tightened around his head. He winced just a bit as the bandage touched his wound on the first time, but afterwards, there was no such jolts.

"Just yesterday, I've read some notes of my predecessor, the man I succeeded as head of my research department," Cid explained, paused as he grabbed a needle from the first-aid kit and held onto it with two spare fingers, "There were notes that indicated there could be risks if one magic-user was brought to another, especially if they are not well-practiced in using it, or if they have emotional problems."

"Emotional..." Cyne muttered, and managed a chuckle, making sure to hold his head absolutely still, "...that would be Terra."

"Perhaps," Cid nodded quietly, was silent for a moment as he continued wrapping, and then concluded, after the period of silence, "In any case, I think we should listen to what your superiors are saying, keep the two apart for a while."

Cyne nodded slowly in agreement, making sure that his gesture didn't mess up Cid bandaging his wound. "Perhaps when they're older, and more in control of themselves."

"Yeah," Cid agreed, and made a final knot with the bandages before pinning it with a needle to prevent it from falling apart, and smiled in satisfaction at his work, "There. This should do the trick."

Cyne reached up towards where the burn was, wanting to rub it, but Cid slapped his hand away. "Don't touch it," Cid said sternly, "Let it stay like that for a week. You can unwrap it afterwards. I've already disinfected the thing and put some ointment on it, so there's no need for you to worry. Just don't touch it, don't sleep on the left side of your face, and keep it that way for a week. It's a very small burn; it'll probably disappear after a week or so, when you take the bandages off."

Cyne nodded, obeying the doctor's orders, but, somehow, he had a hunch that the scar was permanently there on his face. It was, indeed, a light burn, but it was a burn caused by magic, and Cyne somehow knew that the mark on his face would be evidence that he had once spent some times with a magic-using girl somewhere in his life.

"It's difficult," Cyne admitted quietly to Cid as he leaned forward in his seat and clasped his hands, paused, then added, "Working with her, I mean. Terra. She's very sensitive."

Cid smiled softly. "I find it a blessing," Cid replied and set a hand on Cyne's shoulder, "The girl whom I consider my daughter is condemned to be a soldier. She will have emotions stamped out of her, forever be subjected to the violence and cruelty of war. There will be many things that she will never experience, things that any father would wish for her to experience. But Terra is different; she is a myriad of emotions that I would pay with my life to see on Celes."

"They are different," Cyne laughed uneasily, resisting the urge to rub his wound, which was itching terribly.

"Just like their names," Cid nodded in agreement.

Cyne blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Celes and Terra," Cid explained with a grin, "Celes for 'celetsial', the stars and the sky. And Terra means earth, the very ground on which we live."

"Oh," Cyne nodded for a moment, seemingly surprised, then said awkwardly, "I didn't realize that."

Cid smiled calmly. "Many things seem to escape you," he whispered as he leaned back against the couch, "Especially the things that are important. We always miss it. We miss it, we lose it, and then we live to regret it."

Cyne looked at Cid out of the corner of his eyes; Cid looked almost melancholy, but Cyne still had no idea what he was talking about. He frowned, turned away, and nodded as if he understood. "Yeah," he muttered.

Silenced engulfed the room, and, every now and then, the two could hear a sob coming from the bathroom.

"You should check up on her soon," Cid suggested, pointing at the bathroom door.

"I will," Cyne assured him, "What about Celes? Will she be okay?"

Cid laughed a bit, softly, shortly. "She can take care of herself better than I can for her," Cid replied quietly, "It's part of her training, I suppose. If she realizes something is wrong, she'll tell me about it, though. I think she's okay. Don't know if she's mad at me, though, for ordering her to her room. I didn't even know what happened, but I wanted her to be safe."

"It's fine," Cyne replied, patting Cid on the shoulder, "It...was a good choice. You don't have to feel guilty or anything. It's not your fault."

"I hope not," Cid shrugged and grinned, "Otherwise, I'll feel guilty when Celes gives me the cold shoulder."

"I wasn't aware she could give you anything otherwise," Cyne grinned back, teasing Cid.

And the two men laughed, perhaps for themselves, but seemingly more so for the girls that they raised.

---

"I'm back!" was preceded only by rapid footfalls outside the front door before the door opened, and a fourteen-year-old Terra Branford quickly jumped into the room, quite out of breath.

"Ah, welcome home," Cyne said from the living room, a response to Terra's greeting, which was customary, despite the fact that Terra always blurted out the same line when she came through the door every single time since middle school, even though most of the time, Cyne wasn't home. With a smile, Cyne waved back to Terra as he sat on one of the couches, looking down at a clutter of papers on the desk that showed confidential documents from Imperial Intelligence. Dressed in casual clothes, his intelligence officer uniform was hung across the back of a seat; apparently, Cyne had been too lazy to fold it up and hang it in his closet. He wore a pair of reading glasses that partially masked a scar from eight years ago, a scar Terra knew was inflicted by her. His hair was still as white and long as ever.

Terra cast a surprised glance at the living room, evidently surprised that the twenty-six-year-old Cyne was home this early. Terra offered Cyne a coy smile, teasing him slightly, luring him into a little game of words. "You're home early today, Major Cyne Sutherstrom," she said with a foolish mock salute. She dropped her bag of books next to the wall on the ground of the living room, which had moreorless been converted into Terra's bedroom, then walked over to the chair on which Cyne had laid his uniform, grabbed the uniform, and proceeded to Cyne's room, where she evidently was going to hang it in his closet.

Cyne laughed at Terra's gesture. "A privilege of being a major and the head of a head branch," he said coolly as his eyes returned the papers at hand, "How was your first day in high school?" He squinted his eyes just a little; the papers contained information of the latest military build-up by the kingdom of Doma, provided by an collaborator inside Doma's echelon of power. The reports were not optimistic, and Intelligence wanted to go over them with possible suggestions of a peaceful attempt at disarming Doma within a year. Cyne pursed his lips for a moment; it was the same scenario that happened two years before the Empire launched an attack on Chiron. Somehow, Cyne had a feeling that Doma would be wiped off the face of the planet in two years.

The affair of trying to find a high school where Terra could be enrolled had been just a bit of a problem, like the affair of trying to find a middle school for Terra. While she was under the care of the Empire, not everyone was comfortable with the prospect of having a girl who wielded magic around their school premises. Thankfully, Cyne had done a great job of working along with the propaganda department, and most mention that Terra could use magic had been dropped for the last eight years. Virtually everyone else had forgotten about it, not to mention forgot about her in general, and those who remembered were reminded that it was by order of the Empire.

Cyne and Cid, however, had been careful to make sure that she and Celes would never see each other, as they still felt the time wasn't right. Mercifully, the two had long forgotten about their first and only meeting eight years ago, but they didn't want to stay hopeful, and wanted to make sure. Thankfully, the Emperor decided that it was best for Celes to be incorporated into the armed forces, and, although only at the age of fourteen, Celes was spending the season with Imperial special forces for wilderness training in the Veldt, a stretch of prairies, jungles, and deserts very long way from Vector across the ocean to the north. Cyne felt a stab of pity for Celes, wondering what she had to put up with far away from home.

"It was..." Terra hesitated before continuing from inside Cyne's room, strains in her voice evident as she hung the clothes onto a rack that was almost too tall for her, "...okay. I mean, the people there were nice to me."

"No more throwing rocks, eh?" Cyne grinned as Terra came back out of Cyne's room.

Terra gave a shy smile in return as she leaned against the frame of Cyne's door. "Nope," she whispered softly.

"Well," Cyne said, flipping up another document on the table and studied it, "that's good to hear." Cyne took a peek just above his glasses at Terra, and, for a moment, swelled with pride at how Terra had grown. While still extremely shy and innocent, she had not burnt anyone after the incident where Terra had cast a scar on Cyne's right temple. She was much more in control now, and, although naïve, was a sweet, understanding, and compassionate teenage girl who cared for everything around her. She now enjoyed wearing red, with purple ribbons around her shoulders and waist. It seemed quite fitting of her, a girl of fire. The feminine curves of her body were also becoming more pronounced, a testament to her rise to maturity from a crying child to a cheerful teenage girl.

"Yep," Terra smiled sweetly, and added quickly, "Well, I just came home to drop my bag off; Chloe and the others wanted to meet me down at the square, because they want me to go windows shopping with them."

"Window shopping, eh?" Cyne raised his eyebrows in amusement as he looked at Terra with a wry grin, "Well, you watch your time out there, young lady. Be back before dinner."

"Before dinner?" Terra asked innocently, "You're forgetting that I have to cook the food. It'll take time."

"Nope, haven't forgotten," Cyne replied as he brought his mind back to the papers, "I'll cook tonight."

"Really?" Terra asked, seeming doubtful as she looked at the messy stack of papers on the table and suppressed the urge to walk over, clean it up, and see what was on the papers, "But I thought you had a report to work on..."

"That can come later," Cyne assured, "Food comes first. You go have fun, alright?"

"Thanks, Cyne," Terra made a little jump into the air as she squealed happily, "You're the best..." with that, she quickly jumped right next to Cyne, and, to his immense surprised, kissed him on the cheek just below the scar she had inflicted on him eight years ago, before quickly running towards the front door, and added hastily, "I love you!" With that, the door slammed, and Terra was gone.

"Bye," Cyne smiled softly as he whispered after Terra's fading footsteps. Cyne returned his gaze to his papers, but his mind drifted in his thoughts for a moment. Cyne, for just a moment, wondered what Terra saw more in Cyne, a father or a boyfriend.

Don't be stupid, Cyne shook his head furiously as he caught himself asking the question, feeling foolish and glad that Terra was not around to see the blush that crept onto his face, before forcing his mind back onto the papers at hand.

But somehow, just somehow, he could not push away a feeling of unease in the back of his mind, a lulling premonition...

---

The prophecies had once talked about the Tower of Babel in which one would ascend to the very top in order to be one with God and the heavens. These prophecies, so long ago, were the source, the catalyst, of so much death and destruction. Even here, in Vector, this place of technology, there was once much more activity, much more life. That was so long ago. Yet, from a time in which Tarkon could not see, he could tell that these prophecies would be fulfilled soon.

Tarkon Elmdor sighed, a gesture of both great joy and great sorrow. There was joy because it was programmed into his mind after so much time of abiding by it, living for it, dying for it. He was no longer certain why he held it in such great deference, just knew it was a concept that held his mind and soul, a social programming that would live with him. And that was why there was also sorrow, because of the futility of it all. So much time of living for these dreams, dying for these dreams, and this was what it amounted up to, a futility under which he needed to see through if only so he could rest in peace.

And that was why there was, again, joy. Because he knew that, if it all worked out, he could bring it to an end.

Standing straight from where he was leaning against the castle walls of the Imperial Palace, Tarkon straightened to his full height, just shy of a five feet and a half. Wrapped around in a brown cloak which hid the rest of his body, his hood hid his pale skin and blond hair underneath as he studied the world with clear blue eyes, with features that seemed to belong to a fifteen-year-old. It was afternoon in Vector, and Tarkon was just standing right there, biding his time.

Waiting.

As if on cue, Tarkon's eyes lifted just as a single figure, dressed in red, appeared in the peripheral of his vision. Approaching him as she jogged along the foot of the castle walls, Tarkon watched as Terra moved ever so closer, her shy, petite features becoming clearer with every step.

And this is the girl I need to come to an end, Tarkon thought to himself.

"Good afternoon, Terra," Tarkon offered a weak smile from under his hood just as Terra stepped beside him.

Terra stopped right in front of Tarkon, seemingly puzzled as she recognized her name being called by a stranger. Naively, she bent down slightly to look under the hood, and her face brightened as she recognized the male. "Tarkon!" Terra beamed, "You're the one that sits behind me in class, right?"

Tarkon nodded, the soft, melancholy smile still on his lips. "That's right," Tarkon replied.

Terra smiled back as she blushed, seemingly surprised that anyone would remember her. "Cool," Terra said, "So everything's okay?"

"Moreorless, all things considered," Tarkon answered, his voice soft, "There are things I have to deal with, but they come in time."

"Okay," Terra nodded, polite and shy enough not to probe any deeper to this rather vague answer, "Well, I'd love to stay and chat, but I promised a few friends that I'd meet up with them. I'll talk to you tomorrow..."

"Can you feel it?"

Tarkon's sudden, abrupt words caused Terra to flinch for a moment; she had almost felt certain something was wrong. And something was. Tarkon did not utter the words in a soft voice. Quiet, yes, but they were strong words, punctuate by force in his throat.

"I..." Terra started, trying to smile despite her nervousness, "...I'm not sure what you're talking about."

"I think..." Tarkon whispered as he suddenly outstretched his hand and touched Terra's forehead before she could react, "...you need to be reminded of who you are."

Before Terra could reply, a sudden jolt flew through her mind. It was not pain, it was not shock, it was a sudden conduit of awareness and understanding that flowed through her mind, so much of it that Terra realized with astonishment and panic that she could suddenly feel so much, strange feelings that were running through her, more than she could comprehend. It was logic, comprehension, but, more than anything, awareness and consciousness that suddenly bombarded her mind. Reality as she knew it was no longer important; the reality that was occupying her mind was much more pertinent as it assaulted her mind, caused her to panic in fear, bringing chaos to her consciousness as she could no longer quite feel the world as it was, but a world that was being brought to her through the forces that were seeping through her mind. No longer could she see Tarkon, nor could she see the castle walls or Vector for that matter; all she could see were strange images that seemed to guide her to absolutely nowhere.

She did not know that she had already ended up in the middle of the Imperial Palace, and was glowing slightly purple. The guards at the gates had let her through without question because she knew she was high-profile and the Emperor favored her. But now, as she neared the elevators that would bring her to the labs underneath the Imperial Palace, two guards suddenly noticed that something was wrong, if only because her walking was wobbly, she was whimpering as she clutched her head in absolute fear, and she was glowing a faint purple.

"Miss Branford?" one of the guards asked as they approached from the hallway, the two coming down from the other end, walking towards Terra to see what was going on, "Miss Branford, are you alright?"

Terra did not answer. Instead, she merely walked past them, and subconsciously pressed a button on the wall, calling the elevator. It dinged almost immediately, and the double doors to the elevators opened. Terra walked toward it, but the two guards quickly stepped right in front of her.

"Miss Branford!" one of the guards said, trying to dissuade her, "I'm sorry, but this is a restricted area. You cannot proceed..."

Terra did not know what was going on. She did not see, hear, or feel the guards near her in her state. All she knew was that she had to go somewhere, but something, a something that she only felt without knowing what it was, was blocking her way from her and the destination that was calling her. The only thing she knew was that she needed to go somewhere, and that the obstacle needed to be removed with whatever power she had.

She did.

The two guards suddenly erupted into fire, their entire masses lit as white-hot flames consumed their bodies and burned everything to a charcoal, fried their brains and their throat. They did not have time to react or scream, because they had died instantly.

Terra ignored them because she didn't even know they were there. She just stepped into the elevator, and, on cue, the elevator closed its doors, traveled downwards. Naturally, she was not aware of it, her mind in shambles and chaos. Because as she traveled downwards, she could hear voices, feel emotions, screaming in her mind, attacking her with fury, sorrow, despair...Terra cowered before it all in a mental corner of her mind as they bombarded her.

Mercifully, after what felt like several eternities, it stopped. Like a record player that suddenly broke, the entire thing stopped abruptly, suddenly. Terra's world was suddenly silent and calm as she regained her wits in reality with a sudden shudder. It took her several seconds to react to this, realizing that she was, once again, sane and in control of herself. She blinked twice, to re-register her senses and to recognize what she was looking at.

What she looked at did not help her situation at all.

Rows and rows of large, glass test tubes stood before her, stretching out between metal walkways in a metallic room of what seemed to be a mix between a freak laboratory and a factory. Pumps connected to each tube, glowing with strange, radiant colors, full of energy. Each capsule had a number of meters and instruments on it, and Terra made no sense of it, not only because she could not understand it, but because her mind was on something else completely as her eyes widened in horror.

In each and every capsule were monsters, monsters that she had never seen before. They seemed so surreal to Terra; she had never seen them before in the wildlife, and something told her that they were intelligent, sentient beings. They were of different colors, different shapes, some seeing humanoid and bipedal, others seeming like freaks-of-nature. They were all trapped there, in those tubes, seeming asleep, held in suspended animation, as the tubes pumped something out of them, something that Terra could simply feel was energy...magic. But they seemed so bizarre, so unreal, that Terra was completely terrified, but what added to her Terra was that she could somehow recognize these being without knowing what they were.

Terra.

The voice came from out of nowhere, spoken directly into her mind, something that Terra could not register with her comprehension at all for a moment. Then, somehow, just somehow, she understood.

But before she could reply, her mind was suddenly assaulted once again by voices, feelings, screams, emotions unprecedented from just seconds ago, a massive explosion in her brain. The entire thing was too difficult to bear as Terra subconsciously tried to scream for help, and a frightening, animal-like sound escaped from her lips as a wail.

Sensing a suddenly disturbance, metallic clamps from below the capsules suddenly grabbed and sealed each capsule before pulling them down quickly through many holes in the ground, each hole being sealed hereafter. Unknown to Terra, it was a failsafe to ensure that nothing happened to the test specimens, to prevent any possible sort of damage to them in case the security system detected a disturbance. Unknown to Terra, alarms were going off the hook hundreds of feet above her in the Imperial Palace as instruments detected a sudden peak of what seemed like magical energy.

But that was unknown to Terra. And she didn't care about that. In her mind, where she was suddenly abused and attacked by these unknown forces, she could only scream as she forcefully pushed everything out of her mind with whatever power she had.

Terra's world fell apart.

---

Cyne immediately knew something was wrong with Terra when the Imperial Palace shook on the very foundations of which it was built, and a pillar of fire suddenly appeared right at the heart of the Imperial Palace, appearing right outside the window of his officer's quarters. A hole was torn through the industrial pyramid of the Imperial Palace by the jet of fire, and, almost immediately afterwards, a purple streak tore out through the hole created by the burning pillar.

Cyne knew it was Terra before anything else. It was mere instinct, a gut feeling, that had him suddenly rush out the door of his quarters, running at full speed in his casual clothes, with no explanation provided to a sergeant that he accidentally tackled and pushed over in his hurry out of his quarters. He did not associate it with a possible industrial freak accident, or even possibly a terrorist attack.

He knew it was Terra.

Bursting through a door that led to one of the bridges that connected so many parts of the Imperial Palace together, Cyne paused for just a moment to register what had happened. The pillar of fire was no longer erupting from the hole, but he did suddenly realize that flames were dancing through the sky, as if some artist had painted fire on a landscape painting, and screams could be heard from all over the place. Fires burnt throughout many sections of the Palace, and Cyne immediately recognized that something with Terra had gone very, very wrong. He knew that Terra would lose control of her magic if something happened to her, but the fact that it was coming to this sort of magnitude was something to behold and to worry about.

Still standing on the bridge, a long, metallic plank with railings on either side, Cyne looked around wildly for any sign of Terra, but the fires obscured his view, and everything seemed so unclear. Cyne winced at the heat, blocked his eyes as a tongue of flames struck out from the skies and passed by dangerously close. Cyne hit the deck, dropping to the floor, waiting for the danger to pass, before he got right back onto his feet and started running again, running towards the other side of the palace. The part of the palace he had run out of was military headquarters; he was now running towards the administrative section, the center of the Palace, home of the Emperor, and positioned right above the Imperial labs.

Please let someone be evacuating the Emperor, Cyne thought inwardly with only a fraction of his mind. His true concern, despite knowing what security protocol applied, was Terra.

In the skies above, a squadron of sky armors, the powerhouse of the Imperial Air Force that looked like a sleek pod powered by two rotating propeller pods, had launched into the air by threes, standard Imperial flying formation, apparently trying to scout out the problem. They didn't last long; a flare shot out from the sky like a comet, passing right through the squad of six sky armors. They overheated, melted, and burned as the plummeted from the sky. Cyne watched them long enough to watch the six crash like meteors against the metallic walls of the Imperial Palace, creating burning, smoldering craters.

Reaching to the administrative area, Cyne broke through the crowd of this area's usual crowd of attendants, accountants, nobles, and pages as he ignored the decorations of this part of the Palace, an area that would have usually been forbidden grounds to a soldier such as himself. Cyne was beyond caring that right now, and if anyone wanted to bust him for looking for a girl that the Emperor declared was special, fine, let him bring it up to the Emperor. He only had one thing in mind.

"Terra!" Cyne screamed, looking around, "Has anybody seen Terra?"

Nothing, except pandemonium, responded.

Cyne continued to run past the marble halls, barely registering that the place seemed to have been hastily remodeled; although there was marble and other luxurious materials that crafted the palace, the home of the Emperor seemed to have industrial overtones that was as apparent as the other parts of the palace. Cyne turned a corner as he ran towards an exit, and, immediately, found a metallic staircase that seemed similar to a fire escape climbing right along the side of the wall. Ignoring the heat that was coming down on him, Cyne immediately bounded up the staircase by five steps; he hadn't thought he would be this panicked ever since he had taken Terra to Cid's house eight years ago, but it seemed that he stood corrected. He continued to ascend the steps, which seemingly took forever as he climbed at least ten stories, his boots clattering against the metallic staircase.

Finally, Cyne, almost completely exhausted, made it to the top of the staircase, bounded up right to the upper tiers of the Palace, the very roof of the Palace itself and the tallest part of the city of Vector.

He did not particularly welcome the sight he was greeted with.

The entire floor was aflame, as Cyne had certainly expected. Although there were no bodies around the roof, as it had not been occupied, Cyne saw something in the middle of the fires that completely took his breath away.

A pale, lithe figure stood completely nude in the middle of the roof. She was undoubtedly female; long, flowing hair came down from the back of her head, and it took a moment for Cyne to register the fact that it was not the fires casting light on her, but the girl herself was glowing purple. She simply stood there, completely calm about it all, as she tilted her head backwards, looking upwards towards a sky set ablaze. Cyne stared for just a moment as he realized that the girl was...

"...Terra," Cyne whispered, and, without hesitating or even thinking about the dangers of approaching a bizarre figure in the middle of the roof through the burning fires, ran towards her. He did not feel heat, he did not feel pain, he just ran towards Terra, blood pounding in his ears, and feeling mysteriously cold.

He ran.

The pale figure slowly turned in Cyne's direction, watching his approach. Her eyes seemed lost, half-open, as she settled them on Cyne. With the same deliberate slowness, she outstretched her right hand towards Cyne, and action that almost made him hesitate. "Burn," Terra whispered in a voice that sounded soft and gentle, but very different from her own.

A jet of flame came out from her fingertips and went directly for Cyne. Cyne immediately dropped to the ground, but even as he did so, with the fires raging above him, Cyne was still scrambling on all fours, moving fast in Terra's direction. The jet of fire passed above him, and Cyne was once again on his feet, running as fast as he could.

"No, Terra!" Cyne screamed, "It's me, Cyne! Terra! It's me!"

Terra obviously did not seem to hear. Only aware that the person running towards her was not yet dead, she dropped her right arm, raised her left. "Burn."

Another jet of flame came towards Cyne, almost like a furious dragon. Cyne had to jump to the side this time, and his jacket caught fire just as an ember flew past and skidded across the fabric. Cyne ripped it off in one deft motion with surprising strength, continued to run towards Terra. He was closing on her now, five feet, four feet, three feet...

"Terra!" was the only inhuman scream that left his lungs.

He lunged.

With absolutely no idea what to do, what to say, what to think, he let his inner self take over completely. And, like eight years ago, on the second floor of Cid's residence, he fell onto the girl that he knew, the girl that he watched over for so long, the girl that he loved, and embraced her.

Both of them on the floor, Cyne did not feel any heat, did not feel any pain. He saw himself on fire, but he wasn't being burnt black into ashes, and, instead, he felt warmth. He gambled a glance at Terra's face, Terra's delicate face, a face that was glowing purple and inhuman, but was slowly dimming and returning to her human form.

"Cyne?" Terra whispered, in a voice that sounded like a mix of both her own and not her own. Purple was disappearing from her skin, and her body was losing its glow.

Cyne's arms, wrapped around Terra so tightly, squeezed harder at the name. "Yes, Terra," Cyne whispered shakily, and, as Terra's stopped glowing and returned to her human self, naked in Cyne's arms, closed his eyes calmly, "It's me."

Terra nodded, smiled, buried her head into Cyne's shoulder as tears came down from her eyes, and lost consciousness.

---

It was half an hour after the entire episode of fire as Cyne sat on the roof of the Imperial Palace, utterly exhausted and alone. Around him were Imperial troops, doctors, and officials who scrambled all over the place, containing the aftermath of the cataclysm that had occurred in Vector. Although no casualty figure came in yet, Cyne knew that this was one page in the history of Vector that the people would not forget anytime soon.

It was sunset in Vector, and the orange skies above seemed dangerous; although the fires were gone, the fact that the sky was the color of those burning embers did not help ease the minds of those who were conducting investigation and relief missions.

Most of the fires had already been put out, but a column of black smoke still rose to the sky.

Wrapped in a blanket a doctor had given him, Cyne sat there, completely still, as a doctor checked him over. A medical team had found Cyne and Terra, and quickly descended upon the two. Two doctors took Terra to a lab, insisting that they had orders from high above that she be examined with precision equipment; it seemed they were briefed about Terra's "special condition". Cyne wanted to go along with them, make sure Terra was alright, but the last doctor who remained asked Cyne to stay completely still, as he wanted to check Cyne for irregularities.

He had, after all, embraced the sole source of this disaster.

"You're fine," the doctor beside him whispered in an assuring voice as he rolled down Cyne's sleeve, from which he was checking his pulse, "You're not suffering from any wounds, from what I see. Most of it is shock; I want you to sit here for at least ten minutes, and when you get up, do it slowly. Small movements for the rest of the day, and some sleep, if you can catch any. You want the circulation to come back to you, that and the residue shock. I do not want you passing out suddenly. You may want to come down for a more extensive check-up later on. With a lot of critical injures all over the Palace, burns and all, I can't promise you much, but at least you'll have qualified personnel to look after you..." the doctor quickly flagged down a passing soldier carrying a canteen of water, which he immediately took from the soldier and passed to Cyne, "...Drink this."

"Understood," Cyne nodded, "Thank you." He then proceeded to empty the contents of the canteen, cold water, into his mouth. The doctor nodded, patted his back a bit, then disappeared into the crowd.

"Major Cyne Sutherstrom."

The voice behind him was uttered with complete authority and military command. On instinct, Cyne stood to receive what was undoubtedly a superior, but, as soon as he did so and turned around, his brain suddenly went woozy as he lost his sense of balance; the circulation, apparently, had not been doing well for his head. He nearly teetered in place, but the officer in front of Cyne quickly caught him and stabilized him, set him slowly down to the ground.

"Easy, now, soldier," the man replied as he put Cyne into a sitting position, "Just sit for now."

In his state, Cyne found the orders rather welcoming. "Yes, sir," Cyne nodded, dizzy. He looked up at the officer, saw that he was a colonel, wearing a brown uniform of frontline army. His features seemed gaunt and stern, and he was probably in his late-forties. Cyne couldn't discern much else; his vision was becoming blurred.

That's why the doctor ordered me to stay put, Cyne thought.

"Orders from the Emperor," the colonel said after he took out a piece of paper and read it, but kept an arm on Cyne's shoulder, telling him not to stand.

Cyne tried to seem at attention as much as possible in his state, although his eyes seemed out-of-focus. "Sir," he replied sharply.

"The girl Terra Branford will be taken into Imperial custody," the colonel read in a matter-of-factly voice, "She will be looked after by General Kefka Palazzo hereafter. The Emperor, in his Imperial benevolence, has deemed that you have done everything you can for the girl, and you will be rewarded for your loyalty. You are hereby promoted to Colonel for your outstanding services to the Empire. Do you understand the following orders?"

No, I do not understand, Cyne thought as he suddenly tried to breathe in a world gone airless. He could not comprehend. They are taking Terra away from me! How could they do this?

But, in front of the colonel, he could not say this. And he could understand where the orders were coming from. He understood it all.

In a voice that sounded utterly exhausted and defeated, he muttered, "Yes, sir. Thank you...sir."

The colonel nodded as he rolled up the piece of paper. "Take care now," the colonel replied before walking away.

Cyne sat there, completely devastated. His promotion to colonel did not matter. His pardon from all misdemeanors of not having prevented Terra from doing this did not matter. They are taking Terra!

Cyne looked around, and all he saw were faces of Terra, looking right back him, smiling in a way that only Terra could, a smile full of shyness, naivety, innocence, a smile that warmed Cyne's heart everytime. They were taking Terra, a girl that Cyne had taken care of for nearly half his life, a girl that he knew better than anyone else, her desires, her needs, her dreams. They were taking away a girl that he adored, he cared for, he loved.

And, for just a very sudden moment in complete clarity and realization, Cyne knew there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Cyne cried, tears running down his cheek.

He had lost Terra.

---

The colonel from Imperial Intelligence had entered the briefing room at precisely 2100 hours, three minutes after Sergeants Biggs Darklighter and Wedge Antilles stepped into the briefing room.

For the two sergeants, it had been a sudden order. Wedge, a tall, lanky Imperial troops, remembered it quite well. He and Biggs had been sitting in the mess hall for dinner along with two other troopers when their commanding officer suddenly came up to their table. After a salute, the captain told the two that they were to attend a briefing at 2100 hours conducted by Imperial Intelligence.

Wedge knew better than to second-guess or think about the implications of it. Frontline infantry had elevated the position of these intelligence officers to near-mythological status, and Wedge knew better than to question his orders. Other than nervousness, though, he felt slight disgust at the intelligence officers of the Empire. As his partner, Biggs, a slightly shorter and muscular man, had quietly said on their way to the briefing room, "Let's hope this intelligence nutcase didn't tell us to come over for a ceremony for scratching his ass."

"Officer on deck!" Wedge said as he stood to attention and saluted. Biggs immediately followed his example and snapped to.

"At ease," the officer, undoubtedly in his late-twenties or early-thirties, a major, by the insignia on his chest, replied as he stepped up to the podium. As Biggs and Wedge sat, they noticed that the man had long, white hair that reached down to his waist. Inwardly, they felt a pang of contempt. Only intelligence officers seemed to have the ability to consider themselves above the law in the military hierarchy; otherwise, this lieutenant's hair probably would've been non-regulation. A mean, dark scar streaked down from his right temple, adding some contour to his character. There was a green stripe across the chest of his uniform, and Wedge, who saw it, instantly knew that this man was an experienced veteran; the mark of an infans militis showed that he had been with the armed forces ever since he was child.

The briefing room itself was essentially a square room, lit by electric lights, with completely white walls and a podium at the very front, which controlled a projector attached to the ceiling of the room. Chairs were placed in rows facing the podium, and the room could easily accommodate thirty-two soldiers who were needed to be briefed for their missions.

"Sergeant Wedge Antilles and Sergeant Biggs Darklighter," the officer nodded to each of them, acknowledging their presence, "I am Colonel Cyne Sutherstrom of Imperial Intelligence. I will be your commanding officer for this mission, which is being supervised directly by General Kefka Palazzo."

At the mention of General Kefka Palazzo, Biggs and Wedge sat straighter in their seats; General Kefka's ascension through the ranks of the Imperial army was the stuff of legend, and if a quarter of the rumors about him were true, then Kefka had committed atrocities in the name of the Empire from one end of the world to another. Both sergeants attempted to hide their unease as they shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

"Both of you will participate in this mission, codenamed 'Operation: Deep Miner'," Cyne continued as he looked at both Biggs and Wedge, studying them as if making sure they would keep this under wraps, "Naturally, all the information in this briefing is deemed 'Top Secret', and will not leave this room. Inability to abide by this is a violation of military protocol, and is punishable by death."

Cyne clicked a button on the podium; they lights went out, and a projector shot a lightened image onto the blank wall in front of them. From what the picture showed, it seemed to be an aerial reconnaissance photo taken from a sky armor. It seemed as if the surrounding area was a tundra, with snow all over. There was a crack along the photo, a canyon, that ran through the middle of the screen. Cyne clicked another button, and the photo zoomed in towards the canyon. As it did, white dots became more visible in the canyon darkness, and it soon became apparent that there seemed to be a settlement inside the canyon.

"This is Narshe," Cyne said as he pointed to the photo being displayed on the wall, "Current population is unknown, as it has been out of the Empire's range of control, with the town declaring itself neutral. However, the allied kingdom of Figaro has provided a rough estimate of at least six thousand five hundred, although we have reason to believe that the census is wildly inaccurate and outdated, and that there may be a significant increase in population than the numbers provided to us. It is a mining town, with medium industry. Coal seems to be their primary source of income, and despite its situation, it is a profiting town with its own well-trained militia."

Cyne clicked a button on the podium once again; the image on the wall turned to that of a hastily drawn map, seemingly done by a field agent, with many notes on it. There were also much neater graphs drawn onto the messy sketch, seemingly helping to make some sense out of the diagram. "Nine days ago on October thirteenth," Cyne continued, "We received information from our field agents in Figaro that they had heard rumors in Narshe about a frozen Esper in the caves of Narshe. They were given orders to infiltrate Narshe and investigate. We have not heard from them since, and we have to assume the worst. In any case, however, we have great reason to believe that there is truly an Esper in the caves, and that Narshe is aware of its presence. Our intelligence has implied that it is not yet general knowledge in the town, but there have been rumors or two. Despite this, we shall assume that the city guard has been put on high alert."

Cyne stood straighter, looking at the two. "Standard military deployment to Narshe is impossible," Cyne explained, "We are hard-pressed for time, with obtaining the Esper being of utmost priority. An army will be too slow to mobilize, and, in a worst-case scenario, the people of Narshe will retreat to the caves to start guerrilla warfare with the Esper. Thus, General Kefka Palazzo has decided that a surgical strike team will be deployed to obtain the Esper."

"Question," Biggs said from his seat as he leaned forward, "I'm assuming that these Espers are supposed to be pretty big. If we're the only two going there, I don't see how we stand a chance to get in, grab the Esper, and get out."

Cyne nodded, appreciating the sergeant's intelligent remark. "You will be equipped with MagiTek armor for this mission," Cyne replied, "The general does not expect you to complete this mission without heavy equipment. However, the actual moving of the Esper will not be necessary..." Cyne paused for a moment, and he seemed to hesitate before saying, "...You will be accompanied by a trained specialist, who will help you deal with the Esper. Your mission is to simply escort the specialist to the Esper."

"Wait a second," Wedge intervened, his voice laced with disgust as he looked at Cyne incredulously, "You mean we're babysitting a vulnerable package in the hot zone?"

Cyne shot Wedge a glare that could've frozen any furnace under the Imperial Palace; Wedge involuntarily flinched in his seat as he edged back. "The specialist will also be riding in MagiTek armor," Cyne replied slowly in a testy voice, "and will be capable in handling all mission objectives that head your way."

Cyne clicked another button, and the image on the wall disappeared before the lights in the room came back up. Cyne crossed his arms as he spoke. "Your mission will be divided into seven phases. Phase one. At 0900 hours tomorrow morning, you will report to the hangar bay; there will be three MagiTek armors waiting for you and the specialist there. After you strap in, you will be transported to Narshe via sky armor. Our current intelligence indicates that the sky around Narshe is not clear, and you may miss your LZ by several miles. Phase two. The sky armors will drop all three of your MagiTek armor at or near your LZ. You will rendezvous at the RZ at 0100 hours, and then proceed towards Narshe. You should be able to reach the town at no later than 0200 hours. Phase three. The three of you will infiltrate Narshe and secure the mines in town. Resistance should be light, but be prepared. Phase four, you will make contact with the Esper, and the specialist will take care of things from there. Phase five, you will retreat from the mines as quickly as possible with whatever results you have. Due to the lack of information, we are unable to completely confirm as to what will happen when the specialist makes contact with the Esper, but you will make the best of your sitaution, and retreat from Narshe immediately. Phase six. Your team will report to the allied nation of Figaro, and await extraction from Imperial forces. Phase seven, you will be extracted from Figaro, and return safely to Vector. Note, however, that the extraction window ends at 1400 hours. If you are unable to make it to Figaro Castle by 1400 hours, you will make your way to South Figaro. We have an agent there posing as a ship captain, in command of the Sunshine. You will approach the captain and say 'Pity there is no snow in South Figaro'. If the captain replies 'Looks like you had a hard time in Narshe', you will be extracted by the Sunshine, and, upon return, report immediately to Vector."

Finishing his explanation, Cyne looked at the both sergeants as he crossed his arms behind his back. "Questions?" Cyne asked.

"What kind of resistance other than the local militia should we expect?" Biggs asked, sitting forward in his chair as he clasped his hands, "And what kind of power should we expect from the militia?"

"Your operation will be carried out in the middle of the night," Cyne answered, "Thus, we suspect that less than a quarter of the militia will be present. The militia themselves are well-organized, but they lack equipment. You should not have to worry about damage to your MagiTek armor, but the general advice is to advance quickly north to secure the mines. Inside the mines, you will probably do some fighting with the local wildlife. We also have sources inside the caves that tell of us a monster that stores lightning inside its shell, an effect possibly powered by the Esper inside the cave. However, as we do not have much details on that, we cannot confirm this possibility."

"Rules of engagement?" Wedge questioned.

"Return fire if attacked," Cyne replied, "This is an infiltration mission, although you will be expected to protect yourself in a worse-case scenario. In any case, we do not wish to give Narshe the impression that we are cruel warmongers."

Cyne looked at he two of them again. Seeing as to how they had no other questions, he nodded, and said, "You will both report to the hangar bay tomorrow morning. Because of the sensitivity of this mission, this has been labeled a covert-op. As per military protocol, you will not be given standard information pamphlets that details the operations; thus, you must commit every detail of this mission to your memory."

There was a knock on the door, and the door to the briefing room slid open. Both officers, Biggs and Wedge, turned towards the door, but they could not see who was standing there from their angle.

For Cyne, however, whose expression had turned hard, he could see quite clearly.

"Come in," Cyne said to whoever was at the door, and turned to Biggs and Wedge, "This will be the specialist who will accompany the two of you."

And, to the immense shock of Biggs and Wedge, who had helped out with relief operations to the "Day of Fire" four years ago in the Imperial Palace, they found themselves face-to-face with an eighteen-year-old Terra Branford.

In silence, Cyne walked up to the man who was escorting Terra, pretending not to recognize Terra or hold her in any regard; the gesture would've been deemed suspicious, and Terra would not notice. A metallic loop across her head, a slave crown, had been placed there by General Kefka Palazzo a month ago, when he had gotten impatient with Terra's naivety and fear, and decided for a more direction approaching, neglecting the recommendations from scientists and psychologists. For the last month, Terra had been rendered down to a mindless, soulless shell with the slave crown on her head, only knowing how to take orders and follow them. Her eyes, blank and soulless, was accompanied with a blank expression on her face. She had been robbed of all freedom.

So Cyne did his best to ignore her, even as his heart twisted in his chest. Instead, he walked right up to the man who had escorted Terra here, the man who had been appointed to take Terra to the briefing room, the man who would order a squadron of sky armors to drop the team of three off outside Narshe, and the man Cyne knew. He stopped right beside the green-uniformed colonel of the the IAF with sharp eyes and cropped blond hair, a green infans militis stripe across the chest of his uniform, and said, in the most quiet and emotionless voice he could conjure, "Make sure the men you pick to send them to Narshe are the best men you can find. Do this favor for me, Wolfang; I will die if I hear that she died before ever doing anything."

The gaunt Wolfang nodded quietly, understanding and feeling Cyne's pain. "You'll have my word, buddy," Wolfang whispered back.

Cyne nodded, and, unable to stay there for another second, walked out the briefing room as fast as he could.