Chains of Fate

Prologue

It happened a long time ago—too long for him to remember, but not long enough for it to dissolve from his subconscience. Memories bled through into his dreams every now and then, but he could never interpret them into their truthful meaning. At times he thought himself mad—delusional with war-induced hysteria. It was understandable to experience some symptoms of mania after battling nonstop for such a prolonged period of time.

How long had he been fighting, anyway? He could never keep track. Days? Months? Years? It seemed like an eternity to him, and maybe it was; he had no way to judge.

But regardless of how long his struggles persevered, in his heart the fragments of that time long ago remained imbedded in a place that ached every time he laid eyes on her. In her he saw a pain and sadness like no other. So much sorrow flowed within a woman as beautiful as her—a woman who by every right should have radiated with the purest tranquility and serenity. He deemed it the most barbaric injustice in existence.

It was the sorrow he wanted to remedy. He fought at first because of a duty-bound code of honor and responsibility, but the more foes he slew, the more she appeared before him bearing those eyes weighed by the world's pain. All the chaos, all the atrocity, all the madness—nothing drove him to fight like the determination fueling his desire to see her smile.

He didn't understand why. It happened too long ago for him to really understand. But he would fight for her regardless, because the fragments in his heart commanded him to act. She was shackled by pain, and he would do everything to release her from sorrow's bondage.

Ch. 1

"I've always wondered… Do you think it's possible to dream in this place?" Tidus asked as he lay sprawled atop a grassy knoll. A cool breeze blew in from the east, ruffling through his hair and clothes. A large tree provided shade from the bright, clear sun high above in the light blue sky.

"This is a dream," replied the Warrior, who stood looking out towards the horizon.

"You serious?"

"Yes. You are in my dream."

Tidus hoisted himself up to look the Warrior in the eyes. "Are you playing games with me or what? How can I be in your dream?"

"Because that is your skill," the Warrior stated.

"My 'skill'? What the heck's that mean? You say it like you know it for a fact!"

"It is a fact." The Warrior started walking away towards the valley. "And it's my duty to know the abilities and strengths of the soldiers under my charge." He continued walking, his armor clanging with each step, until he disappeared from Tidus' view.

"Soldiers under his charge…?" Tidus echoed as he bounced to his feet. "Just who does that guy think he—whoa!" In a blink of an eye, the clear sky swirled into a blinding white light he thought impossible to ever experience. Shielding his eyes while the color flashed away from the scenic view, Tidus stood fast as the once gentle breeze turned violent and a powerful gust with the force of a mighty tornado pushed against him. His sneakers streaked against the nonexistent ground, but his mind was too preoccupied with thoughts of survival to notice the lack of any true surface below his feet. When the pressure became to extreme, it swept Tidus away where the light engulfed him into its infinity.

Tumbling through the vortex of light, Tidus did little more than scream as he struggled to shield himself from injury. Unable to open his eyes, his body reacted on instinct not knowing whether or not harmful objects lined the area in which he was speeding through. What unnerved him as he traveled through the field of light was not the unknown of his location or destination, but the voice. The voices terrified him. He heard them as he continued to plummet through the white—he heard their screams, their wails, and their moans. It terrified him thinking about the horrors that befell the owners of each voice. But what sent a mortified shiver throughout his body was that he recognized the tone of each voice. They were familiar, as if he knew them from a fleeting memory too slippery to grasp.

He was going to be sick. But then, as if someone had exhaled a gasp of air, Tidus opened his eyes and sprang up to see a solid surrounding no longer bathed in light. Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead and it took all his willpower to compose himself. As he moved to stand on the cobbled ground of the open, castle-like area he cringed with the crippling knowledge that the Warrior of Light dreamed of those pain-filled voices. He dreamed of them every night…yet he could still keep pressing forward.

The Warrior of Light awoke from his hiding place deep within a crystal crevice. It was hardly the ideal spot to rest for the night, but it provided excellent camouflage from the enemy and lowered the probability of a sneak attack. He squeezed out of the bright orange crystal and stepped out into the open where he stretched his muscles.

A new day was upon him—or was it night? He could never tell in that terrible place. Journeying through a battleground composed of the fragments of many worlds disoriented him at times, but mostly made him long for the home he grew to forget as the war waged on. Nothing save for small bits of memories remained of his homeland, and it would have troubled him had the war not consumed so much of his mind. Regardless, he pressed on, swearing an oath to see the light returned to glory and order restored to the chaotic worlds among the stars.

With his energy replenished and the night's dreams forgotten, he readied himself to fight anew. Sword and shield in hand, he jumped atop the nearest crystal platform and headed towards his next destination—the clock tower. But not more than five steps into his trek, a flash of light shined before the Warrior.

"What is this…? Cosmos?"

The goddess appeared, projecting her image through an aura of golden light. "Why do you continue fighting?" she asked of her warrior. Like all words spoken from her lips, the question was presented with little emotion. The common misconception among lore and fairytales often describes a goddess such as she—one with mastery over light and goodness—as someone with a persisting, confident smile and an unparalleled optimism. But the true goddess who maintained order in the world and strived for good to triumph over evil seldom altered her expression of melancholy. Anyone seeking an audience with the legend would find their expectations unmet and their hopes shattered beyond repair. How could a goddess so full of sadness represent the realm of light?

"I do not understand the question," the Warrior answered in truth.

"It is a simple question. What motivates your struggle?"

The Warrior raised his sword to point towards the heavens, the light reflecting against it giving it an ethereal glow. "If that is what you ask of me, then this is my answer: it is my sworn duty to protect the light and restore order where discord has terrorized the lands. By your bidding, Cosmos, I shall fight for your everlasting rule over all realms."

"Then you do this for me?"

"I fight for everyone who lives in fear of Chaos' reign. Only darkness and despair await a world without your guiding light."

"And that is enough to drive you towards your goal?"

"What are you insinuating?"

"It is merely a question, not an insinuation," the goddess answered with a shake of her head.

"Forgive me, but may I in turn pose you a question?" he asked, sheathing his sword.

"You may."

"I do not understand your intention, goddess. Have you become uncertain of my ability to lead your warriors to victory?"

Cosmos did not give an immediate answer. She turned from the Warrior, walking several steps away with her back to him, leaving a trail of brilliant sparkles of light in her wake. Looking out over the crystal field, she saw no signs of other life. The other warriors continued their battles elsewhere, leaving the multiple crystal platforms an uneasy silence for the moment.

"It is not your prowess in battle I have come to question," she said after several minutes of careful contemplation.

"Then my commitment to your victory?"

"No."

The Warrior furrowed his brows in contemplation. "I must confess that your worries elude me. Have I done something to merit your dissatisfaction?"

Again Cosmos withheld her answer for a time. She closed her eyes as if to allow herself a period of rest from her responsibilities. "What is your name, Warrior?"

The question caught the Warrior of Light off guard, leaving him speechless. He contorted his face with an expression of surprise and uncertainty. "I am but your humble servant," he replied after getting over the initial shock and restoring his stoic demeanor. "As such, my name is irrelevant."

"I see."

The goddess's answer remained consistent with her usual tone. But something about her reply made the Warrior uneasy. A peculiar emotion washed over him, originating from the depths of his stomach where it slowly rose to engulf him whole. For an instant, he could feel her sadness—or so he thought. Perhaps what he really felt was a sadness of his own.

"That is all, then. You may carry on."

"Cosmos, wait—" The Warrior took a step forward, reaching out his free hand, but he did so in vain for the goddess had already vanished. He stood there for a while, staring at the empty space in which once held the goddess's image. But as he continued gazing into thin air, the faint call of voices echoed in his ears. They grew louder and louder until they were screaming in full volume forcing the Warrior to his knees. He grasped at his ears, channeling all his willpower into repelling the howling pleas of agony. The screams were no longer restricted to his dreams.