The icy rain continued to fall, never ceasing...the recent death of Milon was fresh in memory...and Cecil Harvey continued to stare in blank awe at the slab of rock before him on Mount Ordeals, contemplating its structure.

What's wrong with me? Why do I give a damn about a rock? I've seen hundreds of these while climbing this mountain!

Yet something in his mind told him that the stone before him was no ordinary rock.

"So now what do we do?" Palom questioned the situation aloud, his eyes running over the final climbable portion of Mount Ordeals. "Nuthin's here."

"No, there is something...." Tellah felt something similar to Cecil, the same force that had drawn him to Mount Ordeals in the first place. He raised his head to behold a turbulent sky. "We can't stay out here forever; this weather's awful."

Porom remained respectfully silent, as was her nature. Cecil must be on to something, or he wouldn't be staring at that rock for so long. What could that rock have to do with becoming a Paladin, I'd like to know? I hope there's something here for him...or else this whole trip will have been a big disappointment.... Cecil doesn't deserve that.

The Dark Knight scrutinized the stone surface for a moment longer, then at last gave up. "Forget it. Wasted. That's what this trip was. Wasted!" He kicked the mountainside with his foot. "Damnit. What a waste." There I went again, putting faith in an old man's fairytales. Serves me right for believing in the Elder. When I get down there I oughta—— He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth in anger. How many times in a man's life can he screw up?

"Cecil, what's wrong?" Porom's gentle voice floated into his thoughts. That's all we need now, to be stuck on a freezing cold mountain with a knight ready to lose his temper, she thought.

Cecil never got to reply, however. He got as far as opening his mouth to make a sound when a Voice made itself plain in his ears.

::My son...::

It echoed throughout the crags of the mountain, a hollow, distant sound. Cecil's entire expression changed; automatically he faced the stone wall once more, as if he was sure of it being the source of the sound. Is this...?

For a moment everyone thought it was the second reincarnation of Milon.

::My son...::

Again! I heard it again! Cecil placed his hands on the rock. But I'm not Milon's son...I don't think...

"Did you hear that?" Tellah said, looking about himself.

"It's not hissing, though," observed Palom.

"You heard it too, didn't you Cecil?"

The Dark Knight turned to Porom. "Yeah, but I don't know if I'm happy to hear it or not...." Who's making that sound? And what did it mean when it said..."my son"...?

"Cecil.... I never knew your father lived on Mount Ordeals...." Tellah spoke to his old friend, his tone without any trace of humor.

"I don't have a father who lives on...I don't even know who my father is! I was an orphan! And besides, how do we know that that Voice is speaking to me? How do we know that it's not speaking to any of you?"

Silence.

The Dark Knight sighed. Well, I'm never gonna know anything if I don't ask. He raised his face to the sky, braving the downpour of sleet and the awful, unmerciful chill of the weather, and cried out as loudly as possible, "WHO ARE YOU?"

Cecil's voice echoed throughout the peaks of Mount Ordeals. For a moment it occurred to him that perhaps the lot of them had gone mad, and were hearing figments of their own imaginations. Patiently he awaited a response, then tried again in haste. "WHO ARE YOU? ANSWER ME!"

Replied an echo of a sound, ::I cannot give you the answers you seek.... Time will be your teacher.::

Cecil was shocked. It answered me.... Whatever it was.... It can hear me! It's...real.... But that's not what I wanted to hear exactly. "Why can't you tell me?"

::Because you know yourself that there are deeper questions attached to that one.... My time is short; I cannot tell you everything....::

"Then what CAN you tell me?" Cecil's breath was a cloud of white around his face.

::I can tell you where the Sword of the Paladin is.::

Thank gods! We're getting somewhere! This trip wasn't pointless after all! There was happiness in Cecil's voice when he replied, "So where is it, then?"

::Inside.::

Cecil turned skeptical. "Inside?"

On the slab of stone that Cecil had eyed earlier, a door appeared. Very suddenly and just as slowly, the shape of an entryway grew out of the lifeless rock. It was dream-like, the way it appeared out of solid stone, yet seemed as if it had been there all along.

So that's what I was feeling! This stone is really a door, hidden by magic.... Guess the Elder of Mysidia was right after all. This must be one of the spirits that haunt the mountain.

But calling me "my son"... As if this...thing...is trying to tell me that it's my father....

::Come inside.::

The Voice beckoned them from afar, its sonorous tone rippling through the atmosphere of coldness and freezing rain. Unsure of how to open what had to be a heavy rock door, Cecil was amazed to watch the structure swing open of its own accord, as were his companions.

::Step inside, my son. The way to stopping Golbez lies in the walls of this shrine.::

There it goes again! Cecil thought. For a moment the Dark Knight hesitated. Can I trust this Voice? Who's even speaking?

"Man... Let's go in there. It's too cold to stay out here." Palom hugged himself to keep warm.

"C'mon Cecil. Your Sword is in there." Tellah shoved the irresolute Dark Knight gently from behind, forcing the former Red Wing Captain into the mysterious mountain chamber. The rain ceased to patter on his armor and his eyes met up with a wall of darkness. When all four were inside, the room was still dark, lighted only toward the entrance where the icy rains pelted the stone surfaces outside. The doorway was kept open.

Tellah was more than confident that this was the home of the Sword of the Paladin, and perhaps a place where he'd be able to glean the knowledge of casting Meteo, one way or another. He could feel the aura of something sacred lurk in the darkest parts of the hidden cavern. There is a presence here.... The spirit that haunts this mountain...it's the same feeling I got when I arrived in Mysidia. This is that feeling. This is where Meteo hides, waiting to be bestowed upon the lucky magician.... And the Paladin's Sword, too.... Wouldn't it be fortunate if the both of us—Cecil and I—could get just what we need right here?

Cecil was still nervous and hesitant; he peered into the darkness guardedly.

The twins kept their large brown eyes peeled for...whatever it was that could attract attention. They could sense the sensation too, and through their mental connection as twins they were telling each other the same news: This place is holy, whether or not Cecil knows it.

Gradually the room lit up with an odd light, very white and pure. The brilliance emanated from some otherworldly source, unable to be seen by the eye. The party stood in reverent silence as the magic of the cave did its work. The sudden emergence of light brought the four travelers' attention to the wall before them, which wasn't a wall at all, but rather a large mirror. It was polished to a clarity so striking that it was akin to looking through a window to another dimension, where everything was reversed.

Porom gasped at the sight of the perfect mirror. "It's beautiful!"

The floor beneath the four pairs of feet was glittering with crystals, with diamonds. Two enormous white pillars supported the rocky ceiling of the hidden chamber, one on the left and another on the right.

Curious about the strangely flawless mirror, Cecil stepped closer to it to behold himself in its clear depths. He received a shocking picture of what he had become over the past few weeks: a scraggily, unshaven man wearing a rusty suit of black armor, without a helmet, stooped slightly, and with a dull glow in his blue eyes. With so little to eat along his journey, Cecil had become as gaunt and lifeless as the undead he had fought a while back.

The Dark Knight cringed at his own reflection. Is that awful man really me? Do I really look that horrible? He couldn't force himself to take a good look in the mirror again. Look what I've become.... All this for a sword that isn't even around.

His comrades came up from behind, spellbound by the fantastic mirror.

"Amazing," Tellah spoke, extending a withered hand in the direction of the mirror. When he met up with the surface he found it to be smooth like oil. "A beautiful mirror, indeed."

It was some time before the Voice addressed Cecil again. ::I've been waiting so long for the right one to show up here.... It has been many years. So as the world fills with sorrow over its unbalance and chaos, so as my soul shares in that misery.... I have only one consolation: to hand over my spirit and sacrifice it for the good of this world. It is with a heavy heart that I entrust you with my power, my son. I am condemned to forever grieve that no other way remains.::

What is this Voice...? Why does it call me "my son"? Cecil's mind was awhirl with so many unanswered questions, questions that would remain so as long as the Voice procrastinated.

And most importantly, why is this Voice so regretful about entrusting me with...

With its power...?

The Sword of the Paladin?

"Is this it?" Cecil blurted out. "Is this all you have to say?"

No answer.

"Damnit. ANSWER ME, WILL YOU? Why don't you give me direct answers? Who are you?"

Cecil's head dropped until his chin was at his chest; he covered his face in his hands. There was a kinship between him and this strange Voice; he could feel it. Is this really my father, the man I never met? He calls me his son.... A light caught his gaze, its brightness pouring through the openings between his fingers. The concentration of all that brilliance stung his eyesight; he flinched mechanically...and took notice of some sort of change. The armor around him felt lighter, cleaner, brighter.

Porom and Tellah had remained awestruck; Palom gushed, "Holy crap! Cecil, look at yourself, man!"

What is he—? The Dark Knight raised his weary head and beheld his reflection. It's still the same. What's that kid talking about?

When he lowered his stare to his actual self, he saw what Palom had been speaking of: In uniform Cecil Harvey was no longer a Knight of Darkness. There was a sort of fire, a kind of luminosity coming from his new attire. He was in the garb of the Holy Knight, his armor a glowing white trimmed with gold, with a smooth blood red cape flowing out behind him. A gold band set with a large diamond in its center ringed his forehead. Beneath it all was a new suit of chain mail, entirely of gold. To those who beheld his transformation, Cecil was nearly too resplendent to look upon. His bearing was as gentle as before, but more regal, with a touch of something celestial.

Porom accosted the new Paladin, "Cecil, is it really you...?"

He turned around at her beckoning, a halo of holy light around him. In his eyes was a great glow, a holy light, something that was once hidden by his darkness. His reconciliation with his own soul had made it possible for that light to shine through him for the very first time. "But...I'm still a Dark Knight in the mirror.... I-I don't understand...."

"Awesome, man."

Cecil grinned at Palom, who was shaking his head in amazement.

"Cecil, in all my life I've never seen a man look as you do now." There was a touching look on the old sage's wrinkled features. "You must have the Sword, then...."

"Oh yeah, the Sword—" The Paladin's hands flew to his belt, now a glittering gold; there lie sheathed his new blade, twice as captivating as the last. He removed it from its place, smiling as he beheld the unblemished weapon and all its smooth surfaces. At the butt of the weapon was a solid gold sphere; the entire hilt was ringed with gemstones. On the surface of the blade was etched in curling script a series of phrases; Cecil squinted at them to try to decipher the writing.

"'One to be born...from a dragon...' From a dragon?"

"Let me see that, Cecil." Tellah drew closer to the radiant Paladin and extended his hand for the sword. I recognize those words....

"Hey, us too!" The twins ran to their friend. Such a poetic pair of lines was no doubt the first of many such words that formed the Mysidian Legend that the two had studied back at home.

Cecil was in the process of passing his blade to the sage when the Voice rang out again, this time much dimmer than before.

::Your trial...has only...just begun, my son....::

"What?" The Paladin whirled around, weapon still in his grasp, his scarlet cape casting a metallic purple-gold sheen as it flew up about him.

::You haven't proved your worth...to wield the blade....::

"But I defeated Milon!" Cecil protested.

::Milon...was not your test.... Your PAST will be the judge of your...your worthiness....::

Through his connection to the Voice, Cecil deducted that its sacred presence was beginning to weaken. Panicking, he cried out, "No...wait! Don't go yet! I—"

::When you conquer your past, I can place all my power into the Sword.... Only then will it be of real use....::

My past...? Cecil sneered at the Voice's words, but it was a gesture revealing his misunderstanding. "I..." This is my real test, then.... I have only to accept it and get the Sword. If I don't, I won't be able to defeat Golbez...and then Rosa will be lost to him forever.... And the Crystals will never be returned to their rightful places.

"All right," Cecil agreed. "I accept it, then."

::Then...to battle, my son!::

A long, quiet pause.

To Cecil's complete shock, his dark reflection stepped forward, beyond the surface of the mirror. The reflection of the mountain cave warped and rippled as a Dark Knight strode through the mirror as calmly as you please. It stood before Cecil; it was his own self as a Black Knight.

A trembling Paladin backed up instantly. What is this...? Is this really...?

Is this really me?

The Paladin Cecil shook his head at the Dark Knight Cecil, as if he was making an attempt to expel his alter ego.

This CAN'T be...! This is NOT me!

I have to fight myself? How do I do that? How?

Panic-charged thoughts of puzzlement and skepticism sent Cecil nearly off balance. Words couldn't find their way to his lips, not even a slight whimper.

"Two Cecils?" Tellah's dark eyes grew wide. My gods...

Palom and Porom rose to the defense of Cecil...the Paladin, of course.

"Cecil!"

"Whoa man, you're in trouble," Palom breathed.

The Dark Knight Cecil drew his sword, which Paladin Cecil could have sworn was the Dark Sword given to him by the King of Fabul. The blade had the same blackish-violet glow and eerie countenance...and the drop of red crystal amidst the silver ornaments on the hilt.

"Cecil!" Tellah stepped forward, preparing a spell.

Immediately Cecil spun around. "No, don't do it! Don't do anything! This is my fight! I'm the one who has to prove myself—alone." The Paladin whipped around to face his past self. In his heart a part of him still refused to accept this reality.

Why would my�my "father" pit me against myself?

::So you can amend your past deeds,:: the Voice replied. Yet now, it was only Cecil who could hear it. ::The challenge lies not in the use of strength....:: The Voice was coming from the depths of his very being now. It was inside him.

Inside me... So this is all real after all...

This...this "image" of myself...is something that stands in my way to defeating Golbez. I have to clear my path.

::Now, my son....::

The Dark Knight drew back his blade and charged it. An evil power set the sword afire until it glowed, a blackish flame growing around it.

Cecil was more than familiar with the technique. The Dark Wave.

His alter ego charged his weapon to its fullest extent and released the pent-up energy. A wave of darkness, a nightmarish sight, came hurtling toward the Paladin. It knocked him back several paces, where he fell on his back with a heavy, echoing clang.

"Cecil! Fight back!" Porom cried out to him. Her heart was torn by the sight of such a dear comrade in pain. She turned to Tellah, her face haggard. "Should I heal him?"

Tellah shook his head gravely. "Don't bother. There's a magic at stake here, and it's more than any of us can comprehend."

Struggling, grunting, and groaning, Cecil hoisted himself to his feet desperately. I can't.... I can't keep this up any longer....

::Yes you can. But fighting? That is not the answer.::

Then what is?

Again the darker Cecil launched a wave of blackness at his lighter counterpart. The Paladin's face burned as he accepted the blow head on. It was all of his old sins coming back to greet him with taunting smiles, something his wounded soul could not bear.

::Son... The Paladin is a defender, not an attacker.::

Then...what can I do? He's got me.... I'm dying....

::Listen to me! He CANNOT kill you! He is a part of you! Destroying you would be the end of him!::

So you're telling me...

::I have told you all I can. It is up to you to make your move.... All it takes is one act to conquer your past.... One act, my son....::

One act... One act, indeed. What can conquer evil? Except....

The Paladin Cecil pulled himself up one last time. He could feel all his muscles ache and burn, a physical protest to his movements.

I know how to do this. I know how to defeat my past self. I have to forgive it. I have to forgive myself.

"C'mon, Cecil, you can do it!" Palom whooped and cheered on the knight. "Go get 'im, Cecil! Kick his ass!"

Kick his ass...? That I will, my dear boy, but not as you would like me to....

Cecil approached his dark self, the representative of his past and all its hateful deeds, his arms outstretched. He tried to keep his face tight, firm...but the realization of the truth sent tears cascading soundlessly down his cheeks.

Stop this war....

The Dark Knight Cecil raised his weapon in anticipation of an attack.

Stop this war. You know it's useless. You cannot fight yourself and win. You are a part of me. You belong to me. It is because of you, my past, that I have journeyed so far and met so many people. It's because of you that I saw the goodness in myself, the goodness that wanted to fight against Baron Kingdom, against Golbez.... Because of you, I am where I am now. If it weren't for you, I'd be nothing, nonexistent, a body without a spirit and a life without a beginning....

Without a past...

Don't you see? You are ME! We aren't two! We're the SAME PERSON. That's why fighting is useless.

I've learned to accept you, because we're not two strangers facing each other, separated by a chasm. We are Cecil Harvey: you are his past and I am his present. And if that Cecil Harvey wants a future, then the two of us better come together to make sure that that becomes a possibility.

For Rosa...for Kain...for Cid...for Yang...for Edward...for Rydia...for Tellah and Palom and Porom... For OUR father, whoever he may be... And for all those that were lost along the way... You, the past, will fire my crusade; I, the present, will be the weapon that leads the charge into battle.

For all those people, and for Cecil... A truce, perhaps?

Cecil broke down; he began to weep uncontrollably as his past self, his darkness, sheathed his sword and began to walk towards him. The two Cecils, past and present, came together and infused to become that one soul that would soon taste the blood of his enemy. They met up in a passionate embrace, each one clinging to his opposite number.

You are a part of me....

In a flash of brilliance, the dark Cecil was absorbed by the light and disappeared into the corners of his soul, inside him.

"Wow!" Porom gasped, a hushed whisper.

"Cecil? Are you all right?" It was Tellah's voice then.

Palom couldn't resist entering the emotional fray. "Hey man, are you, uh..." Are you in one piece?

Paladin Cecil, as they had remembered him since before the battle, whirled around with a heavenly flourish. "It's over. It's done. I did it." He spoke the phrase again to himself, each time with more and more excitement. "I did it! Gods, I can't believe it! I did it, damnit!" There were tears in his voice, and he fell to the ground, still weeping. "I can't believe it.... I've forgiven myself.... It's all over; it's done now. I...I..."

Out of nowhere he could hear the Voice speak again. ::Well done, my son! Well done, indeed. Now I can put my power into your sword....::

A light descended upon the dark reflection and cloaked him in a golden glow. When the shine subsided, the reflection too was a Paladin. Cecil saw all of this, and couldn't have been more elated...or relieved.

::Receive the last light left in me! My son, stop Golbez...!::

A comforting wave of warmth and energy washed over Cecil. Immediately after he sensed that the presence of the great Voice, the faceless, mysterious something that had guided him to become what he now was, was no more. In a way, it touched him deeply.

"Father..."

-.*.-