Chapter Text
Alarms blared, their shrieking cadence matching the flashing lights. Kirin’s hooves pounded a metallic counterpoint against the steel catwalk as they fled.
“Can’t you do something about that noise?” Cait Sith demanded as he bounded alongside his larger companions. The feline Esper laid his ears flat against his skull as he glared up at Siren.
“You know my powers don’t work on machines,” Siren snapped from where she rode on Kirin’s back. Her tattered silks flared out behind her and she clutched her harp closer.
“What about you, old man?” Cait Sith turned his ire on the elderly Esper running alongside him. “After years trapped in this hellhole, surely you’ve figured out how to fry their machinery?”
Ramuh took no offence at the caustic question. They were all terrified. But desperation overrode terror and spurred them onwards.
“I believe I can oblige you.”
With that grave statement, Ramuh planted his feet and raised his staff. His robes and beard fluttered as his power built, sending bolts of electricity skittering across the steel walls. The sparking tendrils fanned out in a web that wrapped around the lights and klaxons and burst, cutting off the noise and plunging them into darkness. Ramuh leaned against his staff, panting. Emergency lights flickered to life, bathing the catwalk in dim red, but the alarms stayed blessedly silent.
“Thank the Triad for small favors.” Cait Sith’s relieved sigh belied his arch tone.
A shot tore through the short-lived peace.
Siren’s agonized cry was a feeble thing after the deafening crack of the slug-thrower. She slumped against Kirin’s neck. Blood stained her skin, painting her arm with vermillion stripes. Kirin let out a pained bugle of his own as the same bullet that had clipped Siren’s shoulder buried itself in his flank. Golden ichor joined splattered crimson on his white coat.
“We’re cut off,” Siren gasped.
“Too slow,” groaned Cait Sith. “Always too slow.”
“No time for that.” Ramuh spoke sharply. “Right now, we have to survive.”
Cait Sith sighed. “Maybe you do.” The tiny cat squared his shoulders. “This is as far as I go.” He unsheathed his claws as he crouched. Baring needle-like teeth in a roguish grin, he glanced over his shoulder. “Pick me up on your way out, will you?”
Drawing the last of his power around him, he sprang, bouncing off the guardrails onto the soldiers’ helmets, leaving showers of golden sparkles in his wake. Immediately, the guards broke formation and turned their weapons on each other, babbling incoherently in anger and alarm. Blood splashed across the floor as friendly fire shredded through the ranks.
Light flashed within the crush of men and a crystalline thump sounded beneath the chaos. Moments later, the last soldier dropped and silence reigned again, stark and unforgiving.
The three remaining Espers crept forward. Kirin’s hooves echoed in a lopsided rhythm as he limped. Siren leaned against his snakelike neck, jaw clenched in pain.
Walking ahead of them, Ramuh scooped up Cait Sith’s magicite from where it lay amidst the bodies. The flame inside was faint, but steady. His nostrils flared once as he swallowed back tears and tucked the gem into his robes.
“Let’s go quickly,” he ordered gruffly. “Cait didn’t buy us this time so we could waste it grieving.”
Siren nodded against Kirin’s matted fur. Lifting his head, Kirin summoned his power, sending silver light cascading from his two golden horns. His sea-green mane rippled as the soothing aura bathed him and Siren. Both sighed in relief as their wounds began to heal.
I don’t have many of those left. His voice sounded in their minds, faintly out of breath. But I have enough to get us out of this cursed place.
They moved with what speed and silence they could, dodging patrolling soldiers. They’d cleared the main labs and had almost made it to the outside perimeter when a young guard rounded a large shipping container and nearly slammed into Kirin’s chest.
Before he could speak, Siren leaned down and cupped his cheek, tilting his chin to look into her golden, glowing eyes. Dazzled, his face went slack as he stared up at her.
“Shhhhhhhhhh,” she breathed, running her thumb over his bottom lip.
The soldier’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Siren continued to caress his face, humming a soft lullaby until he slumped backwards, dazed and half-asleep.
She groaned and swayed on Kirin’s back. “That’s the best I can do,” she slurred, struggling to stay upright, “unless I wish to turn to magicite as well.” Blood trickled anew as her wounded shoulder reopened.
Kirin snorted in alarm and cast another regenerative wave over her. The bleeding didn’t stop, but it did slow.
“Rest, child,” Ramah said. “Conserve your strength. You did enough.”
They hurried beyond Vector’s walls and began the long trek towards the mountains that hid their homeland.
Urgency aside, they stopped once they were safely away from the city to relish the wind on their skin and the grass and wildflowers beneath their feet. Siren sank down amidst the fragrant blossoms, stroking their tender petals, while Kirin rolled onto his back, snuffling and kicking all four legs in the air. Ramuh just closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the sky, cradling Cait Sith’s magicite in the sunlight.
Refreshed in spirit, if not in body, they continued onwards. Days and nights passed as they crept across the continent, letting the faint thrum of magic tug them towards home.
Their progress came to an unexpected halt in the eastern foothills when they stumbled in range of an Imperial garrison. The skirmish was brief and bloody, with Siren pouring everything into a song to cripple their enemies long enough for them to escape. Hiding in mountain caves, they huddled together as she succumbed to her wounds.
“Save it,” she rasped as Kirin readied his power. “I’m beyond healing now.” Stroking his velvet nose and gripping Ramuh’s gnarled hand, she let out her last breath. Ramuh tucked her magicite next to Cait Sith’s and bowed his head.
With no way home now, he took Kirin south. Heartsick and wounded still, their progress was slow.
They’d made it within sight of a coastal town when Kirin’s front legs buckled. He lowered himself into the grass and sighed.
This is where I stop. His weary voice sounded in Ramuh’s mind. We both know I’ll never make it off this continent. You pass for a human, but I cannot. Ramuh began to protest, but Kirin cut him off. Both times humans grew greedy for our power, I fought. Both times I was victorious – they did not get what they sought from me. I’m tired, old friend, in body and spirit.
“I understand, old friend.” Ramuh knelt beside him.
Take my last gift then, and use it to get to freedom. He summoned a pulse of healing power and sent it through Ramuh’s frame. Cradling Kirin’s horned head in his lap, Ramuh closed his eyes. When he opened them, all that remained of his friend was a hunk of magicite.
Stowing the third stone with the other two, Ramuh climbed to his feet and made his way into town. Kirin’s gift hummed through him, giving him just enough strength to take another step. No one paid the wizened old man any mind as he hobbled past the shops, through the terraced streets, and into the harbor. He found a boat bound north and crept into the hold, hiding amidst the sacks of grain and casks of wine.
When he next set foot on land, he bypassed the human towns and outposts, allowing the sky and winds to guide him. They led him to a ramshackle cluster of towers and rowhouses. He made his way through broken-cobbled streets, hood pulled low over his eyes. At last, he spied a bedraggled man leaning against one of the buildings and risked contact.
“What is this place?”
The thug grunted. “Zozo. Everythin’ what’s unwanted allus finds its way here.”
Ramuh nodded. He looked up at the dingy towers, letting the perpetual drizzle drench his skin. This smog-cloaked city, with its worn-out streets and weathered buildings fit his soul. He would stay until the stars and wind called him somewhere else. He found a deserted room at the top of the tallest tower. Alone with his thoughts and ghosts, he pulled out his friends’ magicite and laid them in a row.
He thought of the others still trapped in Vector, clinging to their physical forms, hiding the key to the power the humans wished to extract from them. He thought back farther, to friends lost the last time humans went to war with his kin, and back farther still to the stories his parents had told him of the very earliest days when their kind were created.
“The world won’t forget us, I promise. When the time is right, I’ll tell your stories,” he whispered to the glowing stones. “I’ll tell all our stories. Every last one.”