Chapter 7: Golbez Clad in the Dark

Rubicant had never heard the name of this enormously powerful wizard before, nor was he familiar with many of Golbez's spells. Golbez had warped them to a windowless study--somewhere in the world, Rubicant thought, though he had no idea where--and had been describing a few of his skills. "Lunar shock," he said, leaning backwards in his chair, full goblet of wine in his hand. "It sends a bolt of energy through the subject's body, pushing him back and sending him into temporary paralysis."

The red wizard glanced down at the drink in his own cup, observing that it was two shades darker than his wrinkled clothing--prison tended to do that, he thought wryly--and looked back at the figure before him. This Golbez was only a few years older than Rubicant, though the hollow depth of his dark eyes displayed a hauntedness even the latter's anguished soul lacked.

"X-Warp," Golbez continued, nonchalantly studying Rubicant's subtle reactions. "It sends the subjects to any place in the world, given its location in relation to the moon's current location."

"Which moon?"

"Ah, the second, of course."

"I understand the power you hold," Rubicant said bluntly, his mind not dulled by his weeks of trouble. "Now, why do you bring me here?"

A low, rumbling chuckle was the first response. "A simple occupational concern, and nothing more. You would make a good..."

Golbez again leaned back in his seat, remaining silent until Rubicant responded, with inadvertent harshness, "Henchman?"

"No, wizard and commander. That and more." Another strategic pause, during which time Rubicant restrained himself from leaning forward in anticipation. "You see, my master needs help for his mission, and you have the power to make a difference."

"What is this mission?"

"It is something few people on this world understand. You know of the crystals?"

"Of fire, water, earth, and wind?" For a moment, Rubicant wished he had more knowledge of the crystals; black magic was his field of specialty, not ancient history.

"Yes, and the others as well--the underground and lunar crystals. You see, they hold more power than most can imagine. The nations guarding them have long forgotten their uses. At any moment, a wise but villainous mage could seize them and exploit their energy.

"My master is one of the chosen few who remembers... He wants to prevent any destruction from occurring. My task is to build this tower as a keep for the crystals, then take them from the clueless monarchs. When all the crystals on this earth are collected, the way to the moon will be opened, and we will seize the lunar crystals. Otherwise, the evil stirring in the world will gather them before us, and hold my master captive. He embodies great wisdom and magic--if that were to happen, our planet's life would be in grave danger."

The black-clad figure stopped. "You may join us on our noble quest or return to the Caves of Eblan."

Rubicant ran the alternatives through in his mind. He had little choice other than to accept the terms presented, unless he wanted to again face capture and execution in Eblan, this time without opportunity or help for escape. But he could always flee to a far-flung region of the world and live anonymously, perhaps in Silvera or Kaipo, wiping his past clean of the imprints of death they had accumulated...

"I--want to help," he said, feeling his lips move of their own accord, while his heart wrenched suddenly.

"Good," Golbez almost purred, extending a hand in friendship. "I knew you would understand. Now, I will show you the room I have prepared for you..."

And so Rubicant became Golbez's first lieutenant, both in position and in chronology, one of the initial building blocks for the foundation of the mysterious man's empire. He also became his close friend, or as close as two equally distant wizards could be, out of the common bitterness each man felt. Here they lived as scheming outcasts, in quiet rooms of a half-built tower, hidden miles above the earth, above the clouds, surrounded only by dumbly compliant goblins and monsters of burden, isolated from the worlds they wished to understand and control.

Yet Rubicant knew nothing of the darkness slowly seeping into his soul, teaching him to gradually accept the plans his masters were creating. They were simple ideas in the beginning: a dispatching of imps to gather news, floateyes to protect them, and so on. But they grew rasher and bruter, into full-fledged operations of intimidation and assassination, of large-scale invasions and takeovers.

Golbez spent much of his time away from the tower (which Rubicant learned was known as Zot). What he did was anyone's guess; in rare moments of conscience, Rubicant mused over what evil he must have been plotting. Most of the remainder of Golbez's time was spent in his own room at the top of the tower. The door was closed and he was alone, but he was always speaking to his master, learning spells and describing what he had accomplished on the Blue Planet.

In those few hours between his other work, Golbez taught his new assistant lunar magic. Rubicant again felt like a young and eager wizard, entering a new world of seemingly mysterious incantations and gradually unlocking the powers they held.

But Rubicant spent most of his hours alone. Not alone in a physical sense; there were always various beasts from Golbez's army around Zot, completing their building of the floating masterpiece and maintaining the functional areas. Perhaps that was worse, having only such mindless monsters about: Rubicant felt himself drift farther away from humanity, with only the thought of mastering it, not returning to it, crossing his mind.

This gave him more than enough time to think to himself and contemplate the decisions and events of his life. Here he was, split between two identities: one of a sworn minion of the dreaded Golbez, the other, discarded like a soiled piece of undersized clothing, attached to the persange of a wanted murderer.

He didn't know which one was worse.

And he began to remember what Icantus had tried to forget.

His parents, hurrying out of the house to visit a sick aunt living across town, his mother tweaking his ear good-naturedly and telling him to keep himself out of trouble. He and Drort and a few others playing the game of "Baron vs. Fabul"; he was pretending to be a karate master, if he remembered correctly. They were playing in a field just outside the city, where the patches of high grass and nearby strand of trees were perfect for ambushes.

The ground shaking beneath them, trembling with enough force to bring Icantus to his knees, effectively ruining his plan to sneak up on a Baron dragoon in the waist-high grass.

Clawing at the debris that was once his aunt's house that night until he was dragged away by neighbors, a shocked stupor fallen over his sentience.

Living with that old lady down the street, kindly but slightly hard of hearing, until he moved to the barracks reserved for ninjas-in-training.

Meeting the respected ninja instructor Anvanit, a formidable warrior in his own right in his youth, who ironically had three daughters but no sons, and taking him as a fatherly role model.

And as he remembered, he began to understand. The shortcoming of humans, the reason why most of them failed to become great or epic: Emotions only led people to act in a silly, irrational way, following whims that had no more logical basis than the air had solid substance. They were constantly prodding people's ambitions from beneath the surface, urging mortals to act out of rage, sympathy, guilt... or love.

It was with this revelation he would free himself.

Rubicant emphasized his silent resolution with a fist slammed on the arm of his chair. Then he stepped outside and woodenly regarded the imps patrolling the hall, feeling his humanity slip farther and farther away from him, becoming a veritable mote on the horizon. And he turned his back on this speck, content to leaveit a hemisphere behind as he traveled the world, content to let it slide out of his life forever.

Rubicant never chose his path directly, or so he personally believed; he had slipped in the direction through his own follies. His future would be different.

He wondered whether he was going insane. Even if he was, he felt more empowered than ever before, more in charge of his destiny.

Insanity was a small price to pay for control.

Chapter 8: The Prelude

"Sit down," Golbez urged, his voice more pensive and preoccupied than normal. It was seven months since he had rescued Rubicant from the pursuing Eblanese forces.

"What do you have planned?" Rubicant said, with slight apprehension.

"Master Zemus has shown me a way to increase your powers, by giving you a strong connection to the force you're most skilled at using."

"And what's that?" His voice was flat, the curiosity behind it hidden.

"Fire, of course."

Rubicant shuddered.

"Is something wrong?"

Yes! he wanted to scream, but his lips wouldn't move. Something was wrong, very wrong.

He hated fire.

He hated the smell of charred flesh, the cackle of flames against vulnerable dry wood, the surge of magic that preceded it. Why, then, did he always use fire?

To punish himself for his weakness. It was the same reason he forced himself to use the name that so represented his past sins, torturing himself each time he heard the accursed word uttered.

The words formed themselves without his approval. "No, nothing's wrong at all."

"Good," Golbez smiled. "This spell will only take a few minutes."

The black-clad leader began to chant in the ancient, lyrical language of the Lunarians, casting a spell Rubicant did not recognize. Many of the phrases were similar to those of a spell used to summon bestial henchmen, and a few were used to read the minds of others, he noticed--

A wave of horrible pain struck him. He couldn't place where it emanated from, but he suspected it hit each individual cell in his body simultaneously. It was like millions of tiny sabers piercing through every square inch of his body, or like being immersed in lethally strong acid while being kept alive against all logic.

Rubicant stiffened, his shoulder blades smacking against the back of the chair. Behind the wall of torment, he vaguely sensed that Golbez was continuing to hold the spell in place, face tight with concentration.

And then it ended, as abruptly as it had started. Rubicant fell from his chair in relief, feeling slightly numb and dizzy.

Golbez offered him a hand up, and Rubicant saw that his face was lined with sweat. "It's done, it's done," Golbez panted, a hint of glee rising in his exhausted voice.

"What's done?" the wizard managed to choke out.

"The bonding. Channeling the power of Master Zemus, I bonded you with the Crystal of Fire. Now, whenever you cast a fire spell, you'll be drawing a fraction of its power. Not enough to have an effect on the crystal, you see, but more than enough to strengthen your attacks by several magnitudes."

"Fire...?"

Now displaying a rare moment of excitement, Golbez continued, "I never thought it possible. The only other type of bonds that have been created through magic are between the caster and nature or the caster and the summoned..."

Rubicant did discern a slight difference, a sort of warm throb pulsing through his flesh. He couldn't sense the crystal, but he felt in command of an enormous power, beyond anything he had ever imagined. Not even a council meeting between the wisest and strongest of the Mysidian sages gathered this immensity of power.

Yet he knew that the forces that had given him this gift held even greater power: Golbez, Zemus, and... the crystals.

Rubicant's metamorphosis from an ordinary wizard to a fiend was now completed with his physical transformation. That, along with the reckless abandon and frigidity that had entered his mindset, fully separated him from the personage of Icantus.

He wasn't the only one experiencing a radical alteration.

The years passed, filled with the study of magic, monsters, and solitude. Rubicant watched Golbez gather more devoted servants: A twisted, deformed wizard named Scarmiglione. A master of the arcane shapeshifting arts named Kainazzo. An outcast female Dragoon named Valvalis.

And Rubicant watched Golbez become the personification of evil he later appeared to be. At the beginning it was always, "Master Zemus requests" or "Master Zemus has planned..." As time went on and Golbez's influence over the Blue Planet's dark forces and monsters spread, his mind was gradually taken over by the force of hatred Zemus embodied, until he was Zemus.

He was hatred.

"The restoration of the Tower of Bab-il is almost complete," Golbez said flatly to Rubicant. "I have made plans for you to move there shortly."

"Me?" Rubicant was taken aback. He knew that Golbez planned to used the tower as a storehouse and fortress for his precious crystals--the Tower of Zot, Golbez had recented decided, was far too vulnerable to the whims of the machinery that kept it aloft--once they had been acquired, and assumed Golbez himself would guard them.

"Yes, I have other plans for myself."

Rubicant thought for a moment. "When do you want me to leave?"

Golbez held up one hand, signaling to Rubicant that he was not finished. "Before you do that, you must take control of the castle nearby, in order to prevent future attacks against you from having a base on the continent." He paused momentarily, as if he wanted to gauge his minion's immediate response. "I want you to destroy Eblan."

Rubicant shuddered, then felt himself go deathly calm, his defense mechanism. "Yes, sir. I will start planning at once."

The black-clad leader nodded slowly with approval. "I can always count on you. I'll give you..." He began to detail the exact nature and number of the forces Rubicant would be allotted.

Rubicant's mind worked frantically--figuring battle strategy against the people of Eblan.

Rubicant sat within a large tent far from the front lines, finished giving final orders to his commanders. From far outside came the rumble of catapulted rocks against the walls of the castle. Without looking out the tent flap, he knew that a contingent of wyverns and gargoyles was dropping foot soldiers--imps and chimeras--into the castle's upper levels from the air, where they would hopefully do damage while some of the Eblanese were occupied with the army just outside the walls.

He was glad he didn't have to watch the battle from up close; he was fairly certain most of the badly outnumbered ninjas would be slain. Stepping up to the opening of the tent, he started to...

Wait. What was that sound he heard?

Rubicant's ninja reflexes told him to duck, which he did, in time to see a thrown shuriken tear through the canvas wall behind him. Luckily, there were four ogres guarding the tent, who rapidly stormed outside to investigate.

Rubicant followed and saw a lone Eblanese ninja outside, doubtlessly sent as an assassin to destroy him, the leader. The ninja's three comrades were dead on the ground, lying scattered around the tent. This last one, part of his face already cut and bloody, took a glance at Rubicant and his guards, then cursed and began to chant a warp spell. He disappeared, but not before one of the ogres managed to tear off his right arm.

Returning to the quiet of his tent, Rubicant ignored the large rips in the wall. He still preferred it to the battle outside.

Chapter 9: Cry in Sorrow

Rubicant suddenly sat bolt upright in his bed sometime before dawn, trying to remember the dream he had just had. Or rather, trying to forget the nightmare.

A woman had screamed--no, her voice was barely audible, a weak whisper, but the sound reverberated between his ears until it was magnified a thousandfold. The word she breathed chilled him as much as her voice itself; he felt himself losing control, going mad, slipping into the long since abandoned realm of emotion, with each time the word vibrated within his mind.

Icantus.

Throwing on a set of normal clothing and a black, hooded cloak, he cast a warp spell.

The underground town of Eblan was dimly lit, as always, and as was expected at the hour. A lone guard stood watch, shivering slightly with the morning cold, not noticing the dark figure standing stiffly in the shadows. And even if he had noticed Rubicant, he would hardly have started: the caves were too deep and too treacherous for either friends or foes to navigate; he was there simply to watch for monster intruders.

Rubicant carefully kept his anxiety in check and sent out an invisible beam of faint magic. It returned, and he followed its path to the door of a room that was, like all were in the caves, merely a natural crevice in the miles of stone. The door was unlocked, and it swung open silently when he touched his fingers to the knob.

She was lying in the bed, face as pale as the white sheets, propped up by a retinue of pillows. As he noiselesly closed the door behind him, he thought of how young she still appeared, as though the one-and-a-half decades that had passed since he last saw here had not been spent, but instead were hiding beyond a cloud or at the ends of an ethereal rainbow, ready to rewind themselves with the proper command.

Just then she opened her eyes slowly, as if waking from a centuries-long slumber, and murmured, "Dalen, is that you?"

His stomach lurched, and he remained still. But her eyes seemed to focus and she cried out, "Icantus! I knew you would come!"

Rubicant stepped forward, lowering the hood from his head to reveal his face, on which time had been less kind. Old emotions, unfelt for years, ran through his chest. "Merla," he said calmly, almost disbelievingly. "Merla, you're... here."

Her initial show of excitement appeared to have drained much energy from her. "Here, but not for much longer" she whispered before breaking into a short fit of coughing. Recovering, she continued, "I've suffered for all these years because of you, while you're far away from the curses that have fallen upon Eblan."

Rubicant looked into her eyes and saw that she knew the pain he, too, had experienced--and was still experiencing. Nonetheless, he said, "You know that's not true."

Merla sighed a bit and coughed some more. "I'm so sorry... Back there, I didn't know it was you who... killed Drort. It was... it's been too long."

She paused for a minute. "Just... give me your hand," she managed to say. "I need something to hold on to."

He knelt on the ground at her side and cradled her thin fingers in his. "You're so warm," she mumbled. "These caves... I don't know if I've ever been warm in them, even after almost a year to get used to it."

Her words unintentionally stung him, reminding Rubicant of who he really was: Golbez's top lieutenant, not a young, lovestruck wizard free to act as he pleased. Still, years of denial had not washed away the fact that he... loved... Merla with this very being.

He heard the running of water in the next room, and a man's voice called out, "Merla, is there someone in there?"

The door to the next room opened and a war veteran strided in. His left cheek was crisscrossed with faint scars suffered in the battle the Eblanese had waged against Rubicant's invading horde of monsters.

And his right arm was missing.

His face turned scarlet with rage when he saw Rubicant's face. "You... you're..."

Rubicant stared back intensely, gripping Merla's hand more tightly. "I know who he is, Dalen," Merla said tiredly, though she really didn't. She and Dalen each knew something about Rubicant the other had no clue of. "Now, please..."

Dalen took the hint, nodding curtly, and swiveled on his heel, leaving and slamming the door behind him. "My sister married that war hero," Merla explained, her eyes jerking in the direction in which he had gone, "before he was a hero, of course. He was just a soldier recently arrived from Agart back then."

Rubicant was too unnerved to comment. Finally, he asked, "How is your father?"

"He's gone," she whispered, "dead from Golbez's attack. He would have wanted to see you again, to see that you're still alive and well."

Alive, he mused, but not exactly well. His uneasiness grew. Reluctantly, he said, "Merla, I must go. I can't stay here any longer."

"No! None of them remember you, and those who do are willing to forgive." She began to cough, squeezing Rubicant's hand as if to keep him at her side. Meanwhile, he wished there was something he could do to help her--but this illness wasn't a wound or broken bone, easily cured by magic, but something internal that was beyond the scope of what even the most talented of white wizards could accomplish.

When the spasm ended, she added softly, breathing hard, "I don't want to die in these caves. Take me with you when you go."

The door suddenly burst open and Dalen reappeared, followed by four armed men. "This man is a fiend!" he declared, raising his good arm to point in Rubicant's direction.

"No, get away from here! All of you!" Merla exclaimed with the last of her energy. She strugged for breath for a moment, then mumbled, "So... tired. Please, just leave me alone, Dalen..."

Her head lolled limply to one side on her pillow, and her grip on Rubicant's hand faded.

A woman Rubicant recognized as Merla's sister pushed her way past Dalen's line of soldiers to the bedside. She whirled around to face the others in the now-quiet room. "What have you done? All of you?"

Dalen was silent for a moment before commanding, "Get him!"

But Rubicant was out of the door in the time it took the soldiers to respond. Although he thought himself out of practice in white magic, he turned and cast a sleep spell on all of them. It was adequate; behind him, he heard the thudding noises they made as they hit the floor.

He strolled, unopposed, into a passage that led deeper into the caves, finding the need to think to himself.

She was gone. He was too late. He couldn't turn things back to the way they should have been, not this late in the battle.

Rubicant nearly laughed aloud, reflecting on the accuracy of his past prediction. The uselessness of emotions: that was certainly proved by this absurd, sentimental task.

Almost idly, he killed a few Eblanese guards stationed in the torchlit outlet, not stopping to wonder what they were doing so deep in the caves. Rubicant had almost reached what appeared to be an exit when he was stopped by a voice.

"Rubicant! I've been waiting for this day."

Rubicant turned to face a man dressed in the dark blue clothing of a ninja, boomerang in one hand, the other hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

"Have I met you before?" the fiend asked, still slightly occupied in his own thoughts.

"I'm Eblan's Prince Edge!" was the indignant reply.

"Eblan? What's that?"

"Don't play the fool with me!"

Edge stepped forward and chanted a spell Rubicant recognized from his training in Eblanese magic. This would be quite fascinating... "Flame!"

The fire licked at Rubicant's cloak, replenishing him with its pleasant warmth. He hadn't been bonded to the fire crystal to no consequence, naturally.

"Was it flame?" Rubicant asked in a mockingly surprised tone. "I'll show you how it's done properly!"

He cast his powerful glare incantation, bringing Edge to the floor with its strength. The ninja rose to his feet momentarily, cursing the wizard.

"Indeed you're strong," Rubicant conceded, "but still no match for me. Challenge me after you've become strong enough!"

With that, he teleported himself back to his tower; he had wasted enough time in Eblan.

Chapter 10: The Final Battle

A knock at his chamber's door roused Rubicant from a restless sleep. He sensed a tense urgency in the air, one that vibrated through the rear of his skull--where he felt magical power eminating from others--and made its way into his tight stomach.

"Yes?" he asked shortly, still cross due to the hour.

"Master," said a harsh, deep voice belonging to an ogre guarding the tower, "we are under attack."

"Where?" Rubicant was instantly reaching for his cloak.

"From the side tunnel on the main floor."

"The tunnel from the caves of Eblan," the wizard murmured, his uneasiness growing. "Send all available forces to intercept them."

Had the ogre been human, he would have dubiously commented on their shortage of guards, a situation that stemmed from previous attacks and Golbez's preoccupation with other world events. As it was, he simply grunted in comprehension and left the room.

Rubicant knew his small army of monsters would do nothing to stop the intruders. He was the tower's--and the crystals'--last line of defense.

He would prepare for a last stand.

Shrugging on his wizard's garments, he went downstairs.

Rubicant stood at the teleportation device in the tower's control room, studying the switches and knobs of the panel before him. The mechanisms of the tower were obviously in disrepair; he knew that the circuitry for the remote door-locking devices had been damaged in the dwarves' assault weeks earlier. That Lugae had given him an unending string of problems, from the broken machinery to the unauthorized kidnapping of the Eblanese royal family. At least that mad scientist had remembered to build a pressure-sensitive trapdoor in the crystal room--that was perhaps his one redeeming action, one that might save their master's entire plan. Still, Rubicant was irritated when he activated the teleporter, muttering to himself, "Wretched Lugae! How dare he..."

He might have continued with, "put his own worthless experiments ahead of his orders," but he saw that the intruders had already reached his transport destination and were standing across the room, wary and prepared to attack.

And Rubicant was the Tower of Bab-il's final line of defense.

One of the figures took a step forward and narrowed his eyes angrily at Rubicant. "Rubicant!" he spat. "I'm never going to forgive you! Never!"

Ah, yes, that ninja-prince of Eblan, the fiend recalled to himself. You have ample reason to hate me for my past actions, I'm sure, and I don't blame you. I certainly don't ask for your forgiveness. Still, he felt as though he needed to clarify his role as a villain. "Lugae turned your parents into monsters on his own. I apologize for that." Staring into the ninja's face to judge his reaction, Rubicant continued, "I'm not like the others, you see. I want to play fair."

"Shut up!"

The response was so expected that Rubicant had to supress an involuntary chuckle. He settled for a less abrasive smile, which also served to hide the wistfulness that suddenly entered his tone. "How brave! But you'll never gain real strength as long as you are swayed by emotions."

The ninja took another step forward and shouted, "I'll show you the power... of anger!"

Rubicant sensed a sudden burst of increased magical energy from the prince but didn't acknowledge this. Instead, he called upon his lunar magic to send a curative spell in the direction of the group. "Now I restore you to full strength..."

The five warriors spread out in their battle formation, weapons held ready. Casting rapidly before they could attack first, Rubicant unleashed a Glare spell on their apparent leader, a Paladin who stood at the front, firmly grasphing an Ice Brand. He fell to his knees from the damage but was quickly cured by white-caped wizard who stood behind him.

The party standing before Rubicant disappeared in a shimmer of blue light. The air temperature fell several degrees, and a lavender-shrouded figure, at the center of the icy breeze, swept through the air toward him, hand raised to call down a scathing blizzard. Rubicant pulled his cloak to cover his body, feeling its infused magic absorb some of the attack's force. Still, it pushed him back, leaving him to struggle to keep his balance as the summoned monster returned to the land of monsters.

He dropped the protection provided by the magic of his cloak, beginning the chant for a spell of fire and simultaneously preparing himself for an imminent attack. Golbez, let your teachings fail me not. He stood his ground against the strokes of a pair of ninja swords and the glare of hatred that accompanied them.

"Slow!" he heard a white-clad woman cry, and he felt his lips stumble sluggishly, the words falling haltingly from his lips.

A dragoon's spear sliced his shoulder open, sending dizzying pain and the chilling agony of ice through his fire-infused body. Still, he continued to chant, trying to hurry the words along without losing the spell's accuracy. If only he had a magic barrier on him...

The sword plunged through the side of his chest, its blade icy against the warmth of Rubicant's streaming blood. Gasping, he clutched with one hand at where he knew his lung was broken, falling to the floor, fire spell forgotten.

The party stood silently back, weapons still drawn but at rest. "Well... now I see why Golbez had a hard time with you," he gasped, collecting his strength to speak. "Weak people can join forces... I admire you, warriors!"

He stared at the blurred image of the familiar metal ceiling that loomed far above him. Where will I go now? he thought, struggling for air as the blood seeped through the crevices of his chest.

Would he see Anvanit, face stern but welcoming, and naturally Merla, hand stretched toward him in a gesture of forgiveness and understanding? Or would he be greeted by the cries of thousands of sinners at the pit of hell, where he would burn in agony as he had burned so many others in his life?

A wet droplet ran down his eye, coming to rest at his cheek. He feebly lifted a clean hand to wipe it away, feeling it flop limply against his face. He lifted it and saw a single drop of blood smeared upon it, burning with invisible fire.

His chest expelled a final choking breath of air. "Farewell."

The fire energy that had been infused in Rubicant's body, now unhindered by the control of his magic and his body's defenses, began to consume its host. The flames emerged from beneath his flesh, burning his clothing and igniting his spilled blood with golden light.

The party stood quietly in silent reverence for the fiend's death, watching the blaze turn his flesh into ashes. Then, even before the flames extinguished themselves, they moved forward into the crystal room.

Epilogue

The entourage of soldiers, engineers, and personal guards followed the King of Eblan and his two children through the halls of the ancient and now dust-covered tower, untouched for fifteen years.

"It appears that the structure is still quite sound," one of the engineers observed, running a hand along a long but superficial crack in the wall. "The earthquakes caused by the giant and the subsequent assault by the forces of the Red Wings and Dwarf armies seem to have caused only minor damage."

"It's lasted since the ancient crystal wars," the king said, looking around for what he'd been searching for, perhaps one of the few reasons he had even set foot in the cursed old tower.

His eyes fell upon a small pile of ash, a fading cream-grey, no larger than the size of his closed fist. He strode toward it, guards following and children close behind, leaving the engineers to marvel at the skill of the structure's advanced construction.

Edge knelt and blew the fine ashes, watching them settle between the cracks of the floor panels. "He was probably just some twisted human without values, virtually raised by monsters, living an empty life of destruction," the king intoned, the slightest hint of bitterness entering his tone.

The king wasn't sure what he'd expected. Perhaps he'd expected Rubicant, who had played such as huge role in his life for a year, to spring forth from his ashes, rising unaffected from the damage his elemental flames had done. He had been so obsessed with destroying the wizard, but now, he seemed so... ordinary, so mortal.

He turned to his son and daughter, who were watching him with puzzled eyes. "A fiend," he explained. "That's what he once was, a fiend."

"The four who worked under Golbez during the First Crystal War," Caitlin clarified for her brother. "There're rumors all around Eblan, old ones from the old cooks... They say the fiend of fire was a ninja in Eblan. A ninja-in-training, actually."

"Rumors," said their father, "and nothing more. Nothing like that could come out of Eblan. We're like family here--and I couldn't imagine family doing anything so vicious and evil, could you?"

But as Edge looked into the faces of Corvin and Caitlin, he felt a chill run inexplicably down his spine.

Author's note: Special thanks to Andrew Vant, whose characters Corvin and Caitlin, from his fic "Dark Calling", were borrowed for the epilogue. There are a few inconsistences in this story, placed either with artistic license in mind or by accident. ^.^ Most notably, I had Rubicant die--permanently--in his first battle with Cecil and friends, not after being revived by Golbez and sent to the Giant of Bab-il.