Outside, in Guadosalam, a large crowd had gathered to watch the farplane, giving it a lot of space as it sparks and shot pyreflies which flew back in.
It’s remarkable what can fail to be so in a matter of days.
The farplane had spewed forth many such multi-colored explosions, and people had just learned to keep away from it—not that they went that near to it in the first place.
This time, however, they could see something, and Jyscal wondered if he’d gone as insane as is son and wondered if Seymour ever had such visions, although this didn’t explain any attempt to kill people.
The entire crowd was hushed, and the only sounds within the entire city were the breathing, made loud by great anticipation, and the noises from the farplane that were indescribable, save by the Guado who had lived with it for so long that had actual words for such strange occurrences.
The reverence was broken when Tidus, who hadn’t understood anything that had been going on for an entire day blurted out ‘Huh?’
In truth, the statement had summed up the entire situation. Most of the Gaudo, especially Jyscal, weren’t in the mood to admit it. They did not appreciate anyone taking their farplane lightly, not matter what it did or how confusing.
Before their reaction could be anymore than a few dirty looks form the faster ones, the farplane coughed up a large sparkling flare and a pair of delicate, nearly white feet gracefully stepped out and onto the mossy branch. They were followed by thin long legs, which one wondered how such thinness could possibly hold up the rest of the body.
Silks trailed as a woman stepped out of the farplane, followed by a few pathetic pops of color. She delicately strode down the path. If Tidus hadn’t seen her feet he'd have thought the ground, he’d swear she floated her way through the crowd as it parted for her.
She walked right through the path the crowd made for her and right up to Jyscal. Tidus backed away, out of what he assumed was politeness.
The Guado were silent now, several separated from the crowd and backed away. Tidus didn’t take the hint.
The woman glared at Jyscal, who, from the look in his own eyes, had no idea why she was doing so. There were dozens of emotions, piled up and intertwined and they were all showing in her eyes and right at Jyscal. None of them were happy.
Jyscal opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off before there was any noise, even his breath, by striking him across the face. He just stared at her, even more confused. Tidus did the same, although his face showed recognition of this woman or what her arrival portended.
"Where is my son?" she asked.
…………………………………………….
"It doesn’t like this body," Jyrrin said, stumbling through the snow. She couldn’t feel the heat. Her body was being preserved—barely—by the powers the thing within her had given her. "It burns. The body burns, it’s own body burns."
Anzi said nothing, helping Jyrrin through the snow. Jyrrin had walked perfectly, not matter how dead she had been before. Three times already today the thing had taken the body over from Jyrrin. Jyrrin was losing control, and the thing was losing patience.
It was growing something else, something Anzi did not like. And interest. It became interested in people. Who she was not quite sure about and she didn’t’ want to find out. It never voiced it explicitly, but it was there, in it’s speech, in the way it trailed off, in the way it forced the peeling, rotting pieces of flesh around the mouth to smirk.
Anzi wondered about the path they were taking and who had chosen it. They weren’t on the familiar path summoners and later tourists had taken. They were wandering into the heart of the snow, although she wasn’t sure if that mean right around Mt. Gagazet, right over Mt. Gagazet, or right through.
She hoped they didn’t go through anything else.
Unfortunately, that was not possible. She realized this as they came upon their first obstacle.
………………………………………….
The army was small. But the worse problem was that they were disorganized. Cid had a handful of volunteers who were unskilled and untrained, at best. Neither the Al Behd nor the Guado were used to the cold conditions of Mt. Gagazet. And they certainly weren’t dressed for it.
Luck was not on their side. It hadn’t been for a while. Just as Cid had gotten everyone organized, something else got in the way of hunting down Jyrrin. It had big teeth and wasn’t happy. And it had friends with similarly big teeth and came armed with spears.
"Er, hello," Cid said, hoping the Ronso were here to negotiate.
"Why you people here?" one of the Ronso asked.
"Hey, I remember you now," Cid said. "Kimahri, right?"
The Ronso was unimpressed, as were a few of the Guado behind Cid. "Friend of Yuna warn about strange dead woman ."
"That’s what we’re here to shoot, not you," Cid said. "We’re not your enemy."
"Guado not allowed here,"
"Hey!" Someone yelled.
"How exactly are we supposed to go home, then?"
"You startin’ fight, Ronso?"
"Who are you to talk, You’re Al Behd!"
"Hey, I’m on your side!"
And then, as always, something happened that added to the confusion and caused too much distraction to stop anything until the damage had been dealt:
"Head’s up!"
……………………………………
Whatever it was, it wasn’t Jyrrin—again—and it wasn’t happy. It also wasn’t patient. Jyrrin had held Anzi by the arm, dragging her unsteadily along the path. This thing grabbed Anzi by the neck and strode forward, past the wreckage and confused survivors.
Luck wasn’t on its side either. It was questionable as to whose side Luck was on; in fact, it seemed to have vanished altogether.
The Ronso had given up on blaming the Guado—even if Jyrrin used to be one, she wasn’t one anymore—they had been targets too.
People scrambled for dropped guns, Ronso for their spears.
The thing seemed unconcerned about the attempts to grab weapons and fight back. It was, however, still angry.
"If I burn, you burn," it said, throwing Anzi forward into the snow.
"Duck!" someone yelled.
Most were smart to jump out of the way as a tongue of fire shot from the thing’s hand and at the snow. It grabbed Anzi and continued to melt a path and burn away anything it felt was in its way.
A Guado pushed himself off a Ronso he’d half-saved, half-fell on as he was getting out of the way. He grabbed a gun he’d landed on in a much more painful manner. He steadied the rifle, aiming for the thing: a dark spot against the white of the snow or the blaze of the flames. He concentrated, his rifle barrel carefully following until it threw Anzi down to calculate another blast. He was unused to seeing his own breath go up like a puff of smoke, and even less used to seeing through such a thing.
He had her—it—whatever—in his sights. He had a clear shot. He cocked the rifle.
His finger was on the trigger, but suddenly, someone’s hand was on his neck.
"Nothing personal," his assailant said, before slicing the man’s throat.
Maln dropped the bleeding man on the ground and looked for the next survivor. He ignored the Ronso, their spears would never get close enough.
Maln stomped over the bodies of the dead, careful to avoid those who were trying to flee, and grabbed an Al Behd by the hair. The Al Behd was trying to rouse his friend from the snow. It could have been optimistic, ignorant compassion. It could have been stupidity. It could have been fakery until he saw a chance to leg it.
Whatever it was, Maln had cut it short, very short.
"You, on the other hand—" Maln said, and this time made damn sure the man was dead and had no chance of getting back up. Because he’d first have to find where Maln had thrown his head.
……………………………………….
Paine was nearing the once holy city. Even though it inhabitants were mostly of the simian kind, there were a few who clung to it, and a few more who took up the job of trying to clear the moneys away before they realized they weren’t’ paid enough and left.
Still, this was where the thing was going, and this was where the battle would happen. Monkeys or no monkeys. Pain was almost there.
Hearing strange noises that couldn’t’ mean anything good—but what did these days?—she turned around.
As she watched Mt. Gagazet burn and realize a giant fire on a snow covered mountain was the least of her problems and nowhere near as strange as many other things she saw, Maln was looking straight though the cloud of flame and smoke. Past the bodies, past the living, past those he’d killed, past those he really want to kill and hadn’t done so yet, the thing was holding Anzi over an edge… and letting go.
Maln dropped the man whose neck he’d been about to snap and ran.
The thing moved on, clearing the mountain of anyone and anything in it’s way with fire. It knew what it was doing. And that wasn’t good.
…………………………….
The palace was starting the feel crowded and there were only three people in it.
Not quite.
Three and a half would not describe Seymour’s condition.
3.14159… The inhabitants of the palace equaled exactly pi before Yuna came, destroying any narrative attempt at poetic numerology.
There were no guards to escort her. The people were too frightened to go near the palace. Yuna found herself stumbling through the same ghost town she’d seen years ago, the last time the farplane was n trouble. The first time Seymour was in trouble.
She wandered into the palace. The door had been left open.
She took it as a good omen that it was still on both its hinges and in good condition.
She peeked in, wondering if it had been abandoned.
Tidus was at the top of the stairs, looking as bored as he could possibly manage, and he’d been practicing his whole life.
He perked up like a dog happy to see anyone at all, and ran down the stairs to hug her—more out of politeness than boredom of caninity.
"Tidus," she said, uncertainly hugging him back.
"Hey, it’s okay," he said, pushing away enough to look her in the face. "It’s okay now. You’re fine now and the others will—"
"Tidus, I’m sorry."
"Why, what happened?"
"You’re not supposed to be here," Yuna said.
"That’s bad?"
"Tidus… I got married. I’m sorry. I had no idea you were coming back and it meant so much at the time and I couldn’t—"
"Is that all?" they heard and turned to see the woman who’d stepped out of the farplane walking down the stairs. She spoke up again when she was at the bottom of the stairs and stared vaguely at both of them. "If you are going to break Seymour’s heart, then promise me that you at least won’t let him die. Even if you don’t care about him, thee is so much else at stake."
"Um, can I ask a question?’ Tidus asked. It was harmless enough in it’s own paradoxical way. "Who are you?"
"I am Seymour’s mother," she said, staring straight at him, or, more precisely, over his head by about six inches.
She was blind.