Disclaimer: I don't own Tales of Symphonia. I wish I did, but I don't.

------------

Title: Back to Before

Prologue

------------

Mara glanced quickly around the enormous library before heading off to one of the quieter corners of the already nearly silent building. She had finally proven herself trustworthy enough to handle some of the oldest books in Sybak. Possibly the oldest books in the world!

She sat down at a table and gently pulled two books out of her bag. One was the research journal that she was recording in and the other was one of the aforementioned ancient books. If she could have read the title embossed on its cover she would have said its name in reverence. As it was though, the words 'Μύθοι και μύθοι' meant nothing to her aside from 'ancient' and 'squee!'. If this was any other book she would have been irritated that the scribes had not translated the title into Common, but for some reason with books older then a few centuries non-translated titles only made them seem more authentic. It made them feel like a gateway into the minds of the people who lived thousands of years ago.

Mara simply stared at the book with awe and excitement in her eyes for several minutes before she managed to shake it off and recall why she had the book. She was writing a book of her own about the myths and legends of the world before the Church of Martel formed. The Pagans had such interesting stories and believed such silly things!

But they also knew things that had been lost to her people a long time ago. Mara was hoping to aid her fellow scholars in sorting out the fact from fiction. Her book would record all the prominent and relevant myths of the Kharlan period in history. That was the time when magitechnology flourished and then declined. If she and other intellectuals could separate out the myths from reality they might be able to understand the wondrous machines that existed thousands of years ago. Maybe they would even be able to recreate some!

Biting her lip to prevent a squeal of excitement from disrupting the studious atmosphere of the library, Mara gently opened the book and turned the first few pages to the beginning of the text written by the Academy scribes. She briefly wished she could read the ancient Pagan language. The words were so much neater and more uniform then the handwriting of even the best scribes. Some scholars theorized that some type of machine wrote for the people of the Kharlan period but Mara dismissed it as complete nonsense. The scribes of Kharlan were simply better trained.

Realizing that she was worried about handwriting of all things when she was holding one of the oldest books in existence…well…a translated copy of one of the oldest books in existence, she berated her self and immediately began reading.

"I will never forget that day. It was decades ago, but it was one of the defining moments of my life and so it will always be crystal clear in my memory. It is like looking at a stage and watching the scene play out before my eyes, as if performed by…"

Mara shook her head and jumped forward in the text. That part would be of no use to her. She skimmed a few more pages until a small line of text grabbed her eye.

"…involved the God of War and Fire, Efreet."

A surge of excitement bubbled up in Mara's chest and she swiftly back tracked until she caught the beginning of the promising passage.

"…Like beating me was no challenge to him.

"It was over not long after it began. I was lying on my back in the wet, almost muddy, dirt on the side of the road and a sword that looked like it was made of fire was pinning my shoulder to the ground. I remember thinking that I was going to die. That this swordsman was going to kill me. I stared up at him, not really looking at him, but beyond him, into that deep orange sunset thinking that this was going to be my final resting place. I was so gone that I did not even notice the pain of the unnaturally hot sword piercing my shoulder and I almost did not hear him when he spoke to me. He did not say much. Just four simple words.

"'You look like him…'

"That is when I really saw him. His auburn hair was soaked and clung to his almost aristocratic features, falling in such a way that it obscured one of his piercing wine-red eyes.

"At that moment several things hit me at once. First, he had been fighting with that eye obscured the entire time. He was like me, fighting at a disadvantage because that eye of his was blinded. It did not matter to me that there was a very good chance that he still had both his eyes and probably was not truly a cripple like me. The fact that he had two working arms should have tipped me off, but I was so disoriented that it did not register. All that mattered was that if he could be that good with only one eye…then perhaps I could be too. Maybe I could be greater then what I currently was.

"The second thing was the color of his eyes. I had never seen red eyes before. I recalled hearing of such things in stories, but only in those that involved the gods. More specifically, the ones that involved the God of War and Fire, Efreet.

"The surprise that revelation brought me rendered me mute and unable to do much more then state at him in awe and fear. I desperately wanted to ask who I looked like that he would stop his assault, but I was too afraid. I admit that I was afraid both for my life and of him, but not in the way that one would suppose. I was afraid, yes, but it was the type of fear that a child gets when they finally get that chance to meet their life-long hero. The type of fear that freezes them the instant that hero's eyes land on them and they feel they are being judged. The fear that they might come up lacking.

"I could not see it then, but as that memory became more distant, and I wiser, I see that he was not looking at me. Not really. It was the same look I was giving him before he spoke those words to me. His red eye was not seeing me, but rather the one I reminded him of. The person that I looked like. I wonder now, just as I did then, who did I resemble? I wish now that I had not let my emotions paralyze me, that I had managed to ask 'Who?'. Who could bring such a look to this great warriors' face? Why did he seem so…unsure?

"I cannot recall how long we stared at each other. That, along with my memory of my brief fight with him, will always remain a blurred haze in my mind. I do recall that eventually he reached out and removed his fiery sword from my shoulder. At that point I noticed how much pain I was in and that distracted me long enough so that when I next looked up the mysterious swordsman was gone."

Mara blinked and slowly went over the passage a second time. A man with red eyes… She had never heard of anyone with eyes that color before. Blue, Brown, Green and even the Demon Black of the Mizuho exiles, but never red. And this mystery warrior had a sword that was shaped like a flame and was hot to the touch.

The author, Ratatosk, seemed to be in awe of this man and had linked him to the god Efreet. Mara narrowed her eyes in concentration and tried to link all of the pieces together. Was this mysterious swordsman a part of a legend or was he real? And if he was real then who was he? Why did he have a weapon that could possibly have been forged by magitechnology? And red eyes…

The scholar looked back at the book and felt a brief pang of disappointment and frustration when she saw a line farther down the page.

"And perhaps…he will tell me his name next time."

So Ratatosk didn't know who the warrior was. With no name to attach to him it would be difficult to track him down in any other books. All she had for descriptors was a unique sword and a pair of unusual eyes. Not very helpful. Maybe the author would mention him again later.

Mara sighed and began jotting down the important bits of Ratatosk's story in her research journal and added a note to look for red-eyed swordsmen in any other books she looked into.

Just as she was finishing something on the book's page caught her eye. Mara hurriedly searched for what had caught her attention, hoping that it was nothing that could potentially damage the book. After scanning the book twice her heart settled back into its normal rhythm and her shoulders slumped in relief. It was nothing.

The scholar glanced back at her research journal only for the same twitching movement that she saw before to yet again dance across the ancient book's pages. This time when she looked it didn't stop.

Mara watched in horror as the ink on the page ran together, words and letters tangling into an illegible mess until every scrap of text was consumed. Panic began to engulf the woman. She scrambled back away from the table, abandoning her journal, and just as she opened her mouth to scream the process seemed to reverse itself. The mass of ink began to separate itself out into first letters then words. They then began to travel across the page and settle into neat lines and paragraphs until everything looked as it did before.

Mara paused and cautiously inched nearer the possibly possessed book. When nothing happened she gently picked up her research journal and, cringing at its possible loss, used it to poke the old book. Again, nothing happened.

The scholar let out an explosive sigh of relief and felt a silly smile work its way across her face. Of course nothing would happen. She was just over worked and her eyes were playing tricks on her. After rubbing a quick hand across her face to chase away any lingering illusion, Mara settled back to read over the passage about the mystery swordsman again. Maybe now that she had some adrenaline in her system she would be able so get her thoughts in order and see if he was fact or fiction. She quickly found her place and began reading again.

"…Like beating me was no challenge to him.

"It was over not long after it began. I was lying on my back in the wet, almost muddy, dirt on the side of the road and a sword that looked like it was made of fire was pinning my shoulder to the ground. I remember thinking that I was going to die. That this swordsman was going to kill me. I stared up at him, not really looking at him, but beyond him, into that deep orange sunset thinking that this was going to be my final resting place. I was so gone that I did not even notice the pain of the unnaturally hot sword piercing my shoulder and I almost did not notice when a young man dressed in bright red jumped between me and the first warrior.

"Kratos!"

Mara stared for a second then read the block of text a second time. A third. Fourth. The words didn't change. The final sentence stared back at her, seeming to mock her efforts to see past it to the original text.

There was no mention of another person on the road before! Mara quickly opened her journal and hurriedly flipped to the most recent entry.

"A young, red-clad swordsman interfered and prevented Ratatosk's death…"

But…! She could have sworn-!

Mara slowly closed her eyes and forced herself to thing things through logically. She was tired and had been doing nothing but read texts for her book the last few days. Her exhaustion had caused her to have a small hallucination. It was entirely possible that it could have messed with her memory. She obviously needed rest.

She sighed in exhaustion this time and carefully packed the two books back into her carrying case. She would have to look at it again tomorrow after she gotten some rest. Oh well. At least she had a name for the mystery swordsman now.

"Kratos," Mara murmured as she walked to the library doors. "What an odd name."

------------

…It was attacking me. Now that I wrote it I can do other things like eat food and figure out what the hell I'm supposed to be doing tomorrow for my flight lab…

And I do know that I stole the title, but it was too perfect. I had to use it. You understand, right?