SquareSoft: Generations Chapter 1
By Dawn Wilkins
"Fate fits Karma so use it...that's what the prophet said to me. Love fits virtue so hold onto the light...that's what our future could be." (Sky fits Heaven; Ray of Light; Madonna)
Colors of the rainbow spectrum swirled in Cecil's vision. Darkness and light merged in an awesome display. He could feel nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing. Nothing existed, everything existed. It was a baffling yet intoxicating sensation.
With a soul-shattering rush Cecil slammed through to the material plane. Sights and sounds and smells crashed into his consciousness. He was soaring through the air like a bird beyond harness-and control.
The paladin's face was rammed into slushy, moist ground.
He lay on the ground waiting for his body to remember who it belonged to. When he could at last move he sat up, rubbing his eyes free of the muck.
As far as the eye could see there was marsh. Brown, withered grass struck out from the moist ground like weeds and the muddy water slushed with startling regularity. The smell was more than unpleasant. No sun cast light; there was just a smattering of silvery clouds.
Where am I? Cecil pondered with an arched eyebrow.
An ear-shredding screech sounded and the paladin saw an humanoid being descend on him. The weight drove away the precious little air from his body.
"Ugh!(Gasp)...Who in Baron?" he sputtered.
There, lying on him in what could be considered an intimate, uncompromising state was a woman. A ravishing woman. Beautiful, sea-green locks framed her lovely marble face. She had a innocent smile-she was smiling now.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she chirped. Struggling to rise she only succeeded in further entangling herself with him. She was a lovely creature and Cecil found he couldn't take his eyes off her.
With one strong arm he lifted her to her feet and sprang up to stand beside her He tried to speak but now his voice was disobeying him. Only sputters of apologies came out.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall on you. I...oh, dear, where am I!?" Her smile, that innocent press of her lips, wavered and her eyes watered with anxiety.
Cecil sighed. He didn't have a clue where they were. He didn't even know who she was.
"Lady, I'm afraid to admit I don't know where we are. May I have your name?"
She flushed for reasons the paladin could only imagine. "Terra. Yours?"
"Cecil of Baron. I think-"
"What is that?!" Terra cried.
A navy-blue abomination was sailing at them. Cecil didn't have time to think let alone react. The strange being bore down on them, knocking the paladin and the young woman to the marshy ground. Slush and dirt and things indefinable splattered over Cecil. Twisting, he tried to avoid the enigmatic creature's limb-flailing. A string of obscene language spewed from the being as he struggled to rise. The being exerted painful force on Cecil as it rose.
"#$@@$! Hell-bred bastards! Where in the infernal void am I?" shrieked the man.
Pleasant fellow, thought Cecil. "I don't know traveller. Perhaps if I knew your name then we all could discover what has happened. And if..."
Cecil ceased when he realized the man's attention was riveted elsewhere. Spinning on his heel, murder in his eyes, the man revealed a savage scythe and swung it sharply.
"Lavos, you #%@@$ monster, you'll never escape my wrath! I have thirsted too long for your blood! I will not be denied!"
Crack! Snap! Boom!
The very earth beneath their feet erupted. Flung high in the sky, the trio landed with bone-jarring pain. Dust and particles and grass darted into the air. Their eyes seared and each face clogged with mud.
The man, cords of blood dripping, stood, a mass of rage. "Lavos, I'll have your blood!"
A wave of nausea swept the cerulean-cloaked man. He knelt and nearly retched. By mere will, he didn't. Cecil himself, who had seen many a gruesome sight, discovered how sickening it was to watch the man's near-seizure. The lavender eyes swirled. In an almost inaudible hiss, he muttered:
"Darkness pervades the worlds. He, born of deception, shall give rise to his title. Only the virgin love shalt bring salvation, beared by a blade."
He staggered to his feet and muttered, "Oh, what a case of bad timing...I always was so good at that."
Biting his lip, Cecil strode toward the mysterious man. He placed a hand on a slender shoulder but received a blow to the gut for that.
"Stay out of my way or suffer the wrath of Magus!"
He didn't answer. Spinning like a cat, he tossed his vicious weapon aside and began to chant. Unholy blackness streamed with an icy grip. The very nocturnal beams seemed to suck every trace of light. Duo triangles whirled in the sky, encompassing each other. Screams came to Cecil's lips but he forced the terror down. What manner of black arts was playing about here?