Chapter One

Although no words were spoken aloud, the promise of that which was to come settled upon the ears of those who listened, those who were there when it had been, when it was, and when it was promised to come. The crystal that had resided in this place for so long, the dull bluish light cascading over its surface, the strange light that seemed to possess powers beyond any human power; it seemed that one who suffered would be healed when brought in the presence of the crystal. The light that had once been borrowed from the eternal Sun was now born in the depths of the crystal, born from the very heart of the crystal, coursing its way through the etched surface, twisting and distorting in the grooves of the ancient Stone. It had been revealed that the promise would remain unbroken, yet the voiceless words spoke again, as reassurance. For their patience they would be blessed, yet for the blessing they would be challenged by one, a significant One, one who bears the evil in his heart to destroy the Holiness, but who feels drawn to the Good even now, as the guilt of his past sins throbs in his breast. He possesses the unconquerable will, thus it must be nursed by Temptation, or he will surely be clutched and ravished by the Goodness. He is the shadow that masks the intentions, the cursed intentions; the scapegoat, deceived by that one child’s tale that remains the golden idol of the believers, the outlandish tale of the Hero:

One to be born from a Dragon

Hoisting the Light and Dark

Arises high up to the still Land.

Veiling the Moon with the Light of Eternity

It brings a new Hope to mother Earth

* * * * *

"—with a bounty and mercy."

Cecil stared down at the words written on the pages of the book he held in his hand. The letters seemed to waver and dance across the page, and he blinked his eyes to clear the hazy image. His head ached, and his eyes were beginning to throb steadily, the result of reading by the dim candlelight. Wearily he closed his eyes and massaged his eyelids with a thumb and forefinger, and, finally, with an elbow propped upon the desk, he rested his forehead in the palm of his hand. His eyelids felt heavy…he knew it was due to the lack of sleep…but he started reading and couldn’t seem to put the book down. He didn’t even remember when he had pulled the worn book from the dusty shelf and opened the yellowed cover.

As he reached a hand to touch the moldy book, he heard a series of sharp knocks on the oak door. A muffled voice drifted in amidst the knocks:

"Captain?"

Cecil backed the wooden chair away from the desk, and it gave a shriek as it grinded on the floor.

The knocks on the door were repeated.

"Captain Cecil?"

Cecil groaned and rose stiffly to his feet. His back cracked and all of the joints in his body disagreed with his movements. He clasped his hands together behind his back and stretched his cramped muscles as far as he could.

"Come in," he called toward the door. "I’m awake…"

The knob turned and the door opened. The interloper was exactly who Cecil expected…one of the young soldiers of the airship squadron…he stepped into the doorway and saluted.

"Reporting for duty, Sir!"

Cecil turned to him.

"All’s well?"

"Yes, Sir, Captain Cecil!" The soldier retained his salute as he spoke. "Only a few hours until sunrise and all’s well!"

Cecil sighed, somewhat relieved and…well…disappointed? I guess I expected something to happen…like what? The Mysidians following you? What a stupid idea THAT would have been…

"Thank you, soldier."

The young crewmember beamed and shifted nervously from foot to foot.

Cecil gripped the back of the chair and began to spin it slowly with the palm of his hand. Suddenly he was very tired. He glanced up. The soldier still remained in the doorway.

"Is there something else?" Cecil ventured at last, frowning.

The soldier hesitated before speaking:

"May I have permission to be relieved of my post for the night?"

Cecil gave the chair one final whirl and stopped it abruptly; the leg grated against the wooden floor.

"Permission granted."

"Thank you Sir!"

The soldier gave a final eager salute. He seemed about to leave, but he noticed that Cecil seemed distracted.

"You take it easy, Captain," the soldier offered with a concerned look at Cecil. Cecil yawned as if in answer.

"I think all I need for the rest of this night is sleep," he remarked with a half-hearted smile…but that wasn’t really all he needed…he couldn’t say anything else to the soldier though…he was already looking pretty concerned…

The soldier shook his head.

"I think I’ll find a strong drink to keep the sleep away!" he insisted with a laugh. "It’s kinda for preparation, you know…"

He seemed overly excited as he stepped toward Cecil, his arms spread wide.

"Imagine the celebration when we return to Baron, Sir!"

Cecil said nothing. He walked to the desk, frowning, and lifted up the candle. The flame danced around as it was disturbed.

"There won’t be a celebration when we return," Cecil announced with some contempt. He glanced at the soldier to see his reaction.

"I’m beginning to realize that our lives matter little to his majesty…"

Why am I saying this to him, Cecil scolded himself. He’s just a soldier for God’s sake…he doesn’t care what his Captain thinks…he just follows orders…like me…

"But the crystal—"

"Damn the crystal!" Cecil exclaimed. The uplifting of his arm caused the tiny flame to topple on its side, almost extinguished in the soupy wax of the candle.

"I hate when the nation of Baron exalts its powers by enslaving the helpless villages in the world!"

He stepped toward the soldier vehemently.

"Do you KNOW what other countries see when they look at us?"

The soldier dropped his eyes but Cecil was not finished.

"Are we nothing more than thieves and vagabonds, chained to the King’s laws by our titles of captain or soldier or chief?!"

The soldier sidled toward the door, quite taken aback.

"Those are strong words from the mouth of the Captain of the Red Wings…"

Cecil swung the candle down again, and the blazing trail left by the quivering flame glowed in the air. The candleholder crashed unto the desk and the orange flame flared upward again.

"Strong words mean nothing if action doesn’t follow them…" Cecil sighed at last. He knew his words sounded…well…threatening…but for once he didn’t care…he had been thinking about it for a long time…

Cecil stared at the flame as it teetered left and right upon the wick.

The soldier stepped into the doorway again, hesitated:

"You know, Sir," he cleared his throat nervously. "His Majesty has begun to suspect your change of mind to the duties of the Red Wings…"

Cecil said nothing.

"Baigan mentioned your name, Sir…"

No response.

The soldier took a reluctant step toward his commander.

"Captain Cecil?"

Cecil suddenly laughed scornfully.

"The chief guard imagines himself chief advisor to the king."

A pause.

"Besides," Cecil continued brusquely. "He realizes that he’s successor to the Captain of the Red Wings, if something happens to me…"

Which could be any number of things, Cecil thought in dismay…but enough about that…I’ve thought about this too much…no more…

"Sir, I must leave now," the soldier turned toward the door once again. "—if you have no objection…"

You should have left awhile ago, Cecil silently chastised the soldier. Then you wouldn’t have heard all of this, and I wouldn’t have said it…

He sighed and pushed the chair under the desk.

"I have no objection…what I’ve said could have been said just as well to myself…"

"Good night, Captain," the soldier offered, with a final salute. Cecil returned the salute with no reply, and the soldier disappeared, shutting the door behind him.

Cecil stood alone for a moment then heaved another sigh, which quickly became a yawn. He glanced down at the musty book resting on the desk, and he reached his fingers out to gently brush the tattered cover. Dust drifted upward and glinted in the candlelight. Cecil pulled the candleholder toward the book and strained his eyes in the darkness to read the ancient figures on the cover. The title seemed to radiate brightly and rise from the page. The words proudly proclaimed As the Final Sunset Fades: The Revelation of Evil’s Descent. Small flowing letters, faded almost beyond recognition, noted "as foretold by the Venerable Marinius." Cecil rubbed his thumb across the letters, and the book darkened where the thick layer of dust was scratched away.

For a moment Cecil stared into the flickering flame. The heat waves fumed upward, and a trickle of melted wax rolled down and pooled at the base, where it almost immediately froze.

After pulling the chair back from the desk again, Cecil turned to sit down…he paused as though he were having second thoughts….if I sit down I’ll start reading again and I’ll never sleep tonight, he realized…He finally strode across the room toward the bed, heaving a gusty sigh as he listened to his footsteps in the silence. The dark horned mask was resting on the bed, and he reached a hand out to grasp one of the ivory horns to move the helmet. A dull shimmer caught his eye, and Cecil squinted in the darkness to see the source of the light.

His hand froze.

The pale blue crystal still lay on the bed where he left it. As he contemplated the stone, he felt his hart begin to pound a little faster. He even thought he caught a glimpse of a dark stain on the sheet of his bed where the crystal rested…

(blood)

In his mind he pictured blood, and a cold sweat broke out on his forehead. Hastily he snatched a cloak from the foot of the bed and flung it over the crystal. A pang of guilt struck him for a moment, and Cecil regretted the moment he touched the cursed stone…stop! He warned himself, if you start thinking about it again you’ll never sleep…His head still throbbed from straining to read the book in the candlelight, and after he yawned one last time he decided that he should get some sleep.

Cecil stopped over to retrieve the gauntlet that he, before sitting down to read, had hurled across the room in a rage. He couldn’t feel it in the darkness at the edge of the bed, so he was forced to lower himself on his knees to reach an arm under the bed. He swore furiously to himself when he still couldn’t locate the iron gauntlet, so he dropped completely onto his stomach. The chain mail scraped against the wooden floor, and his cheek pressed against the cold steel at the base of the bed. He was presently awarded for his pains as his groping fingers closed around the gauntlet. After drawing it closer to him and lifting himself onto his knees, Cecil felt that his body wouldn’t comply with another movement; his tense muscles at last allowed him to rise slowly.

Cecil picked up the other gauntlet from the bed, and he started back in the direction of the candlelight. When he reached the desk, he tossed the gauntlets onto it and inspected the book again…taking a seat in the chair once more. Just as he was about to scan the pages again, he pushed it aside listlessly…I’m tired he decided…I don’t feel like reading for two more hours…He folded his hands together on the desk in front of him and rested his chin on his knuckles, peering into the glowing flame. A moment passed then he drew another breath and blew the flame away quickly. The light gave a great spark then disappeared; a thin snaking line of smoke hovered in the air before dissipating.

Now Cecil sat in absolute darkness, and his eyelids began to feel heavy. He turned his head to the side and let it come to rest on his arm. The last thing he could recall was the sound of his heartbeat then he was asleep.

* * * * *

He stood once again at the wrought iron gates of the city.

Cecil perceived the citizens of the town, strolling down the dusty trails to the small market; pushing carts of vegetables or fruits through the streets; laughing and talking and gossiping and paying little attention to the men approaching from the outskirts of town. As the Dark Knight motioned for the soldiers, clad in the dark armor of the Knights of Baron, to enter the gates, the people began to take notice.

Small children stared up at the men in dark armor, swords strapped to their backs. The young apprentices glared at the soldiers with a bit of apprehension, and most slowed their pace through the streets in order to gaze at the strangers. The merchants dared not cross the path of the advancing line of soldiers, lest they be crushed by the merciless pounding boots. Shopkeepers peeped from their doors then rushed out, slamming the door, locking it in the same motion. Mothers searched frantically for children. One mother cloaked in the white Robes was busily herding a group of youngsters together to move them away from danger.

Cecil caught snatches of conversation uttered by the crowd; he could hear phrases pertaining to "dark Knight" and "tyrant of Baron" and "pillaging." He glanced to his left as they marched down the makeshift streets and spied a small boy, gaping open-mouthed at the procession of soldiers. One knight in the ranks lunged at the child, making horrible snarling animal sounds, his arms raised as if he meant to seize the boy. The child was frightened so that he shook uncontrollably, and at last he expelled a shrill, terrified scream and fled.

The soldiers laughed presumptuously, nudging and elbowing one another and pointing at the fleeing child.

Cecil was oblivious to the scene behind him. He stared ahead blankly…he focused on what was to be done…people might get hurt…not the Knights of Baron, of course, but the other people…the innocent people…only if they don’t obey Cecil reminded himself…he was almost certain that they would not resist…but, if they did…

Cecil quit thinking about it as he saw the building rise into view. It was definitely the building he was seeking. And what a magnificent building it was. The structure was a great tower, the base being large and spacious to house various chambers. It ascended into a narrow tower, finally terminating into a balcony high in the sky. The narrow midsection would prove to be (upon viewing from the interior) a spiral staircase, a true work of art, erected hundreds of years and remaining as exquisite in the present as it had been in the past. A beautiful courtyard spread in front of the tower and the grass grew thick and green at the boundaries of stones. Several marble benches populated the courtyard; apprentices adorned with various colored robes, signifying their chosen course of study, lounged upon the benches, discussing an array of topics and lazily tossing pebbles at the birds that flocked around the stone birdbath. In some places the tendrils of ferns poured densely over the flat, smooth stones which served as a walkway. The wizards finally peered up, scowling at the knights as they made their way up the steps to the door of the tower. A young page rose from the ground where he was sitting with his back against the wall.

"Sorry, Sir…no one is allowed into the Tower."

"By whose command?"

Cecil continued toward the large oak door, ignoring the young boy’s words. The page, however, boldly but politely stepped between the troop of soldiers and the closed door.

"It is the wish of the Elder, Sir."

Cecil finally gazed down at the page, though his eyes were hidden behind the dark horned helmet, it was obvious that the young boy was shaken by the sight of the heavily-armored men. Cecil said nothing and brushed the page aside, reaching toward the handle of the door.

The young boy again stepped forward, urgently grabbing the wrist of the Dark Knight.

"Sir, you must inquire permission to enter from the Elder!"

Another soldier pushed his way through the ranks, his face flushed an ugly red.

"You’ll have permission if that’s what you want, ruffian!" he snarled, seizing the frightened boy by the collar. Cecil shook his head…the soldier frowned and released the boy, shoving him hard against the stone wall. The page brushed his arm off and glared at the soldiers.

Cecil spoke again:

"Take a message to the Elder and tell him there are a few at his door who would like to have a word with him."

There as really no need to get violent unless we have to, Cecil thought…we’re not here to kill children…We’re here to…

(kill anyone who stands in our way..)

…carry out the orders of his Majesty.

The young messenger opened his mouth as if to speak, but, scowling, he closed his mouth and pulled hard on the handle of the huge door. With a creaking and a grating sound the door swung upon, and the boy disappeared into the darkness within, drawing the door shut behind him.

Cecil whirled around angrily.

"It’s pathetic1" he declared. "They don’t even know their lives are in danger!"

The soldiers nodded in agreement, not understanding what Cecil meant.

"Making our duty much easier!"

A shout of agreement rose from the soldiers…there was a tinkling of chain mail as they shifted restlessly, obviously dismayed over the course of action their leader had decided to take…

Cecil said nothing else and sighed impatiently…God, if I could just get this over with…he began absently tracing his finger through the grooves in the wood on the door. As his forefinger approached the handle, the door began to swing open with out warning, and Cecil sidled away from the door. A woman’s voice drifted out, softly asking forgiveness for nearly striking the men with the door.

A young woman’s face appeared from the corner of the door as she was speaking, but her words ended in a quick intake of breath as she saw who stood at the Tower. The Dark Knights…of Baron…

"Oh …dear…" she breathed in terror, gazing at the men in disbelief. Before Cecil could speak she turned quickly toward the open doorway, shouting frantically:

"It is the soldiers of Baron!"

She cried in a frightened voice…Cecil swore softly to himself…now it might get violent…

"It is the—"

A knight lunged at the girl, whipping a dagger from his boot. The girl shrieked as he wrenched her arm behind her back and pressed the edge of the dagger against her throat. He dragged her into the door and she struggled to break free of his grip as she shouted a warning to those in the Tower.

"—the Red…Wings!"

The soldier shook her roughly and held the dagger to her exposed throat…after her warning to the inhabitants of the Tower, Cecil realized that they would have very little time to carry out the plan…

He grabbed the huge wooden door and flung it against the wall. He soldiers behind him leaped up the steps and sprang through the door. They found themselves standing in a dark foyer, and two dimly lit hallways branched to the left and right. As Cecil stared down the leftr hallway, he could vaguely see a huge room, littered with desks and wooden chairs. The only person visible was a student, eagerly reading from the pages of a book, oblivious to the armored men…the statues in the foyer.

The Great Library…Cecil thought incoherently…how do I know that?

To the right of the foyer, past the flaring torches clinging to the wall was a room that must have been the mages' quarters. A few makeshift beds were pushed haphazardly against the wall, and an archaic chest of drawers loomed ominously in one corner.

The only noises that were heard were the heaving sobs of the girl and her vain attempts to break free from the soldier’s grip.

Directly in front of the soldiers was another doorway, and Cecil watched as lurking shadows passed across the closed doors.

Before the men could take another step, two apprentices emerged from the shadows, each wielding a razor sharp lance. Instantly they held the spear-heads inches from the face of the soldier who held the young woman.

The soldier stared at Cecil, looking almost ashamed.

"I didn’t hear anyone coming Sir…" he stated though he held the knife poised at the girl’s throat.

"Release her now!" the mage guard commanded harshly, thrusting the spear close to the knight and gesturing for his companion to do the same.

Some of the other soldiers advanced on the two mages, but Cecil raised his arm as a silent order for them to stop.

"Let the girl go," he calmly stated to the soldier standing with the spears poised at his face.

The soldier retained her for a moment longer, staring at Cecil with a scowl, then, uttering a curse, dropped his arm wielding the dagger and shoved the girl roughly to the floor. The two spear-wielding mages were instantly at her side, soothing her as she cried piteously. Cecil watched the scene with mixed emotions…there was no need to harm a young girl…we didn’t come here to harm these innocent people…

The soldier who had previously feared for his life now spat upon the apprentice scornfully.

"The Elder hired children to do the work of men!"

The mages glared at him with a look of disgust, and one loosened his sympathetic grip on the girl and firmly clutched the spear again.

A moment before he charged the Knights of Baron, a great cry rose from the from the dark hallway leading into the Library. It mingled with an unidentifiable flapping sound.

"Hell-spawn!" the voice cried sharply, and the moment one of the knights turned to see the source of the sound, a book that had been flung into the air struck him in the temple. He gave a muffled groan and toppled backwards into the company that stood in the dark hall.

Cecil frowned grimly…the Mysidians had been first to strike a blow…now there would be bloodshed…

The young face of a scholar emerged in the firelight, and the soldiers of Baron immediately drew their swords and set upon him without mercy.

Cecil turned his head in time to see the mage with the spear rushing his way, the spear aimed at Cecil’ face. He side-stepped blindly, falling over another soldier but evading the spear’s deadly point. The young mage fell off balance for a moment and Cecil took the opportunity to lash out with the heavy boot, smashing the knee of the young man. He screamed and his leg crumpled beneath him. The other apprentice dropped to his knees at the injured one’s side and set about trying to calm him.

Cecil clutched the grooves in the stone wall against his head and hoisted himself up in time to watch several soldiers disappear into the dark Library.

One of the soldiers had a grip on the book-throwing scholar and he lifted the quivering student off hiss feet and sent him crashing over the top of a desk. Books and papers and pens skittered across the stone floor and fluttered through the air. The boy lay on his stomach on the floor, gasping weakly for breath. The soldier snatched a chair from beneath a desk, sending the desk careening to the floor, and the man raised the wooden chair high over his head. As the scholar laid his hand upon the side of a table for support, the chair smashed onto his forehead, and splinters of wood littered the floor. The boy dropped senselessly to the stone floor again, unmoving.

Cecil began to move toward the Great Library cautiously, forgetting about the mages behind him…God, what are they doing in there?! We have to find the crystal and leave, not…

(kill)

injure the people we encounter…

When Cecil glanced back, he felt his blood run cold as he heard the mage muttering unintelligible words, pacing resolutely toward the Dark Knight…

(magic…God…they will defend themselves if they have to…)

Cecil flung himself around the corner and felt his hand fall on the edge of one of the tremendous bookshelves.

"Everyone watch out!"

Cecil roared, wrapping the fingers of both hands around the edge of the shelf. He began to heave it toward him…

It felt as if it would not budge…

For God’s sake…

Cecil braced himself against the wall and tugged feverishly, the veins of his arms felt that they would burst out of his skin at any moment. His muscles knotted and strained and the tendons in his entire body cracked and popped from the exertion.

The mage was closer now…despite everything going on around him, he was still concentrating on…killing me, Cecil thought almost laughing hysterically…killing ME…

With a last desperate attempt to bring down the shelf, Cecil shifted all of his weight toward himself and roared in effort to drag it into the doorway. The huge shelf was finally agreeable, and it teetered on edge for a heart-stopping moment, then it crashed onto the stone floor. Books poured from the shelves, shards of the lacquered wood shattered everywhere, pages flipped and floated through the air, dust drifted into Cecil’s nostrils and he coughed violently.

The mage held his arms high as the bookshelf fell, and flames erupted at his feet and spewed the length of the floor and licked toward the ceiling. The books instantly flared and ashes hung in the air.

The Great Library of Mysidia began to burn.

The flames licked out at Cecil’s face and he withdrew, cursing the heat and shaking his eared fingertips. He squinted back into the heart of the Library and he could see a limited amount through the smoke and dust and ash sifting around his face. He fell inot a fit of violent coughing again…hot tears stung his eyes and he blinked them away, finally catching a glimpse of the soldiers. They scurried around the desks like rodents escaping rising flood waters, and Cecil knew they would not listne to his commands if they could hear him…He oulled himself to his feet and gripped the sword that was slung over his back. He drew it from the sheath with a scraping sound, and with a swipe tore through the shelves of the charred, overturned bookshelf. Pieces of burned wood flew in every direction, smashing into the stone wall and bouncing on the ground, leaving a trail of ashes and soot.

The young mage who stood in the hallway gaped in horror as the shelves full of books were reduced to cinders. He started in the direction of the Library but stopped in mid-stride as he saw the Dark knight emerge from the fallen bookshelf, cleaving a path with the blackened sword. Ashes drifted from his already black armor and dulled the shiny metal in the firelight. The bookshelf collapsed behind him and more burning pieces of wood showered the ground. The smoke and soot cloud hung over the Library and slowly crept into the hallway. The hazy air caused the mage’s eyes to burn and tears seeped onto his cheeks…he blinked constantly to see the knight in the darkness…

With the Great Library of Mysidia burning behind him, Cecil stepped into the hallway…the young mage lifted his spear as a final defense and swung it at an arc toward the Knight. It clattered harmlessly off the shoulder plate of his arm, and there was a sharp crack as the spear split in the middle. Cecil snatched the end and twisted it viciously, and the wood splintered…Cecil dropped the useless piece of wood to the floor in disgust…

The young apprentice back-pedaled hastily, stumbling over his own feet and dodging the swinging blade of the Dark Knight. When he was several paces from Cecil, he angrily raised the broken end of the spear above his head and with a hoarse cry hurled it at the armored shadow in the hall. With a clang it ricocheted off Cecil’s horned helmet and bounced against the stone wall.

Cecil flinched as the broken piece struck his helmet, and the mage took advantage of the moment and fled down the hallway. Cecil started after him…then halted…What am I doing..? he thought with a laugh…chasing after harmless children like some kind of heartless murderer…

He heard frantic cries of "FIRE!" echoing through the Tower and elsewhere, so he quickened his pace to the front door. He could barely see through the smoke enveloping him, but he could clearly see the frightened townspeople dashing toward the Tower of Wishes.

Cecil turned around and ran to the door leading to the spiral staircase. He shoved the door open and peered inside before entering. At the moment he saw the spiral staircase twisting upward, he also saw the door across the stairwell open gently…

The page whom they had encountered at the front door crept out.

The young boy noticed Cecil at the exact moment Cecil glimpsed the boy, and with a surprised yelp, the boy turned back to retreat into the doorway.

In a flash Cecil had a firm grip on the boy’s upper arm.

"Where have you been?!" Cecil demanded, shaking the frightened boy.

"Please d-don’t enter the r-room!" the page pleaded shakily. "The Elder has been disturbed from his prayers!"

Cecil loosened his grip on the boy’s arm…he did not care what he had interrupted…he had finally found what he had been looking for…

"So, the Elder is in here…"

A look of sheer fright crossed the boy’s young face, and he almost shouted at Cecil though he stood directly at his side:

"You mustn’t enter the Crystal Room!"

With a smirk Cecil tossed the boy aside. His foot caught on the corner of the staircase and he toppled helplessly to the floor. Cecil grabbed the iron handle of the door and drew it open with such force that it lashed against the stone wall.

Cecil left behind the smoke and blood and soot and ash and darkness as he stepped into the Crystal Room of the Tower of Wishes.