The Warring States of NPF - Final Fantasy RP Chapter 5

Born of the moon, in waters of the night
I reached out to my sister the sky
And grasped a star of glimmering white
It led my mind to gleaming towers high
And showed me worlds in worlds where all
was laid bare, left open for me to learn and call
my own. But even there inside my dream
I was haunted by the echo, the unattainable gleam --
Because far inside my heart, I always knew
That you waited somewhere in the dark for me
From the depth of midnight's soul I called you.

******

Dante looked at his hands, his mind refusing to believe what his eyes told him.

Black magic? Is that what I can do?

He looked at the crater, then at his hands again. It frightened him and excited him at once. All his life he had wanted a talent that would gain their respect... and now it was right in front of him.

He stretched his hands out again, fingers questing for invisible strands, and touched magic.

Working on instinct, he swiftly drew the threads of power together with multitudes of invisible, ethereal hands, shaping them into a haf-remembered pattern. As he went on, it seemed as though he didn't have to take it so much as it flowed to his desire. Faster and faster he weaved until he knew that it was complete. He opened his eyes, and saw a small ball of fire burning
merrily before him.

What? So small?

He launched it nonchalantly at a nearby tree. It detonated with a violent explosion that sent him flying into the river. There was no time to shout, or even think as he was plunged into the icy waters. As he struggled to the surface, he saw the trees around it burning, and his mind jumped to a funny thought.

Oh no, what if I start a forest fire?

He rushed to grab his bucket to throw water on the flames, but then he remembered yet another way to touch the weave of the world. He closed his eyes, and water leapt out of the river, dousing the flames completely.

Still dripping from his dip into the river, Dante looked at his hands.

"Cool..."

He hurried to gather his clothes and rush back. This would be a great trick to show Sister Miliani. But hostile eyes had already seen the young Dante, and they were not pleased.

******

A crack of light as his eyes opened. He remembered heat, a flash, then the sound of wrenching metal and the hiss of spraying water. He turned and saw two indistinct figures.

Then his eyes closed, and all was black again. He heard voices now, two of them.

"Goddammit! Did you see that? He cast in his sleep! Fucking shit!"

"Relax, Guyya, this kind fo thing is largely reflexive. Everything's under control."

"It's always under fucking control for you, Abby! What if it wasn't? I am rather attached to my life and would hate to lose it, you know!"

"It *is* under control, which is why I'm telling you to sit the hell down and shut the hell up."

"I think Guyya has a point. Maybe he nmeeds more sedation."

"Shara? You too? Ah hell... I'll turn up the neural stimulator. See? Brainwaves going back to normal. He's sleeping, trust me."

Invisible weights dragged his consciousness down, and oblivion embraced him.

******

Something was wrong. He could feel it in the air as he entered the small village where the Ivalice academy was located in.

Everyone was looking at him. Nobody made a sound, not even the yougner children. It was as though they had seen the Lord himself walk the earth and were staring in stunned wonder.

Except that the look was not one of wonder. It was all too obvious to him. Disgust, revulsion, fear... and of course, the cold, cold hatred he had had to grow up with. All this, written into the stares, the grimaces, the hostile glances as they scurried to avoid him.

"What..." he ventured in a small voice, hardly daring to speak.

From nowhere, a rock hit him.

"Get out! Get out, you accursed kid! Get out!"

Other voices joined the accusing cries, and more objects flew at him - rotten fruit, eggs, more stones. Date dropepd the basket and tried to protect his face, but the hail of projectiles was simply too much.

"What did I do to you? What did I do?" he bleated as a rock to his gut forced him to his knees.

He was met with even more throws, and desperately, he reached out to touch the power again.

A sudden, violent gust of wind twisted around him, deflecting the incoming projectiles. The cries of anger turned to shrieks of terror.

"Demon!"

"Anathema!"

"The Soulbearer!"

As Dante rose to his feet, the crowd dispersed, leaving him battered and bleeding amidst a field of debris. He picked himself up off the ground and limped out of the village.

******

Light again - and now there were two.

"Look at his face... what could he be dreaming now?"

"Damned if I know. Stay away from him - if he pulls another spell in his sleep, even your regeneration won't save you. "

"Can you just trust someone for once?"

"Hey, I trusted Ujio, and look where that landed me."

A snort.

"Say, you never told me how you ended up here anyway."

"I don't want to say, alright?"

Dark again - and then there was none.

******

It was dark in the woods at night. So dark, one could hardly see. Dante wiped the tears from his eyes as he huddled up against the frigid night winds. He had been hiding here, crying for hours now.

"It's not fair... what did I ever do to them..."

A silent white figure emerged from the woods. Dante's eyes lit up. he sprang to his feet.

"Sister Miliani!"

He embraced her, burying his wet face in her chest.

"T... today... when I came back, the townspeople, they... they..."

A pair of delicate arms laid themselves on his back, pre-empting the sobbing.

"Hush... Dante... I'm sorry."

He looked up. In the dim light of the moon, he could tell that her face was red and streaked with moisture. It seemed that she too, had been crying.

"B...but.. why...Sister, your..."

"Please, Dante... don't make this any harder for me than it already is..."

She pushed him away. A flicker of silver glittered in the moonlight, marking the split second between the shocked surprise registering on Dante's face and the stiletto sliding between his ribs. His mouth twisted into an "O" of shock and pain, Dante stumbled back, staring at the little dagger which had suddenly appeared in his chest, then at his sister of fifteen years who had suddenly decided to commit fratricide. He fell on his rump, his hands going out behind him to break the fall, and he coughed, wetly, bringing forth a spray of blood.

Miliani fell to her knees and covered her face.

"I'm sorry, Dante! I'm sorry!" she repeated over and over through the sobs.

The words were lost on Dante, who could only stare dumbly at her. At length, he managed to speak, even though it hurt.

"W-Why?" he stammered, eyes brimming with tears.

"It was for your own good... before you changed! Don't look at me like that! Please, don't! I-We had no choice! I didn't want this either!"

Now the words began to get through, and as they did, what welled up in his throat was not so much blood as emotion.

"How... could you do this to me?"

Unbidden, threads of magic began gathering to the wound in his chest, repairing the torn flesh, forcing the dagger out. Slowly, Dante drew himself up into a standing position. A pale white hand took hold of the dagger, then wincing from the incredible pain, Dante tore it loose. Blood flowed in a spray, which slowed to a tickle, finally stanching itself.

"You killed me! You betrayed me!"

He hurled the stiletto aside, and it lodged itself in the ground next to her feet. Then he turned and fled into the forest, running from the pain, the tears, the hollow ennui that comes from knowing that your existence is no longer needed by the world.

As he ran, he saw a group of men in white hoods, carrying torches and swords. They gave chase, but he disappeared into the all-embracing darkness before they could come close.