Final Fantasy: Tale of Worlds

Two hulking beasts of green fur prowl in the forests, growling and hissing as they catch the scent of their prey. Both of the beasts wear matching red masks along with what appears to be golden armor attached to their chests. They slowly approach their hunting grounds, barely visible in the distance, as they turn around and make clicking noises at several humanoid creatures made of burlap and covered with blades behind them. The two beasts, shaped like lions with long horns curved backwards scratch the ground before resting and keeping an eye on the small camp that their prey called home. Shortly, a woman walks away from the camp, which causes the beasts to stir, only for them to rest again for she was not the prey they were after. Once their target exposed itself, the hunt would begin.

The boy simply stood there, in the rubble of his home, watching the rain of fire. Screams of panic and desperation pierced the suffocating air; mothers screaming for their children, wives begging their husbands to stay, while they attempt to fight the inevitable. It all sounded a million miles away to the boy. The darkness in the sky laughs, a crazed laugh of madness, and the boy's eyes widen. His hands tremble, with both terror and rage, and he tries to move. But his legs refuse to obey him. And so he merely stands there, paralyzed, watching his world burn. When the Darkness in the Sky finally leaves, and the rain of fire turns to a dark snow, the boy's legs finally give out. He collapses to his knees, amidst a new world. The world of yesterday was gone, consumed in the darkest of flame, leaving a new world in its wake. A world of only silence.

"Open your eyes," the Grand Sage commands, and the boy, now a man of some years, obeys. "What did you see?"

"Only my past," the man replies nonchalantly.

"Only?" The Sage asks curiously. "One's past is a powerful thing, boy. It is the source of our strengths and convictions, of our very being. Now, I will ask you once more. What did you see?"

The man blinks, as realization is slow to dawn. "I... I saw..."

---------------
98 years later...

"Draw," Dross says with a sly grin, taking a card from the deck, before placing another on the table.

"You're a terrible bluffer my friend," Lysander replies casually, shaking his head. "Set." He places one of his cards on the table, leaving them both with a hand of four.

Dross laughs, leaning back in his chair and taking a brief swig from his pipe. The smoke billows upwards in a small stream, forming several rings that grow progressively larger, before finally dissipating. "Well, I'm not one to brag, but I did learn from the best, Ly."

Lysander scoffs. "Don't be such a kiss-ass. It doesn't become you, Governor. Draw."

He takes a card from the deck, and places it in his hand, while Dross cackles again. "But I'm so good at it. After all, I made a career of ass-kissing. My turn. I draw."

The Governor of Vinna grins madly as he does so. He splays his hand of five on the table, revealing cards numbering six through ten. "Oh yeah! Full House, baby! I win!"

Lysander only shrugs. "Not really, but I'll allow you to believe that for a second."

He too reveals his hand, which contains all four Aces in the deck, and a Joker. "I win again."

Dross Valen bolts from his seat, eyes wide, grasping his gray hair like a lunatic. "Wha-? How! You do that every time!"

The aging Governor suddenly slumps, boasting a look eerily similar to a wounded kitten. "I give up. You are the one mountain I can never surmount. Please, teach me Master. Teach me your wondrous ways."

Lysander rolls his eyes at his old friend's theatrics. "Oh, get over yourself. Besides, shouldn't you be heading back to Vinna soon?"

Dross sighs, placing his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, yeah. I hear you. I'm heading back."

He walks down the old wooden steps of the front porch, and onto the damp grass of the forest. Lysander raises an eyebrow slightly. Oh? He didn't put up much of a fight, this time. How unusual.

"Hey Ly!" Dross calls back, grinning. His long gray braid billows in the slight breeze. "I'll take your ancient ass to town, one of these days! You can bet on that!"

Unimpressed, the Hermit in the Dark leans back in his oak rocking chair, and nonchalantly waves goodbye. "Whatever you say, you old fart."

Dross laughs, and walks away, disappearing into the trees. A wave of sunlight shines through the dark canopy, bathing the old wood cabin in rays of gold. It really is a beautiful day...

"Are you certain she'll forget...?"

A spark of lucidity flashes in the girl's mind, the beguiling voice of rest drowning out her thoughts and the conversation taking place at her side.

"Of course I am. ...Are you afraid of what would happen if she were to remember?"

...

The spark catches once more, igniting an inferno of consciousness. The girl attempts to move, but finds anything more than breathing to feel unnatural. She grasps for a memory, but even motion is unfamiliar... unattainable. Although her eyelids weigh down heavily, she eventually manages to flutter them open, her eyes adjusting to the light like a newborn's.

A room... humble and minimalisticly furnished, with a dim evening glow pouring in from the window. A tall man with pointed ears and a slender build sits at a table in the corner, nose planted firmly in some kind of book. He wears a white robe embroidered with a jagged red border. Instantly, the image evokes two thoughts in the girl.

Elvaan... White Mage.

Starting from the fingers and toes, the girl carefully and laboriously rebuilds her locomotive instincts, pushing and focusing until she could feel her arms and legs once more. A gentle hand rubs on her forehead and she quickly tries to resist, but her paralyzed arm fights her instinctual urge to harm the man until it goes away.

"...Who...?" The girl asks, not quite sure how she intended to finish that sentence and unable to anyway.

"Easy now, rest." The man says simply. "You've only just regained consciousness, there will be time to move later."

"...I..." Defiant to any reason, the girl continues to push. An arm reaches her chest, covered in bandages and she tries to push a leg up only to cry out in pain as the muscles in her tendon flare up. "...Who am I?"

The man gasps in shock. "Amnesia?" He asks. "But you weren't wounded on the head..."

The girl stares at the man tending to her, letting the question hang in the air.

"Ahhh... you see, I don't know who you are." The man continues. "I found you in the woods. This is Narshe. Do you know where that is?"

The girl considers his question, then shakes her head.

"It's an Elvaan city." The man explains. "Do you know about we Elvaan?"

"Elvaan..." The girl tosses the word around in her head, identifying it with her assessment of the man's physical appearance. She shakily lifts her forearm and points roughly at her face. "I'm... Hume?"

"That's right." The man smiles. "I'm Elvaan and you're Hume. Can you remember anything else...?"

"...Elspeth..."

"Sorry?" The man asks. "It sounded like you said 'Elspeth'... What do you mean?"

The girl struggles to support herself on one shoulder, her thoughts becoming clearer, although little more coherent. "...My name is Elspeth." She says. "That's all I remember."

The man looks impressed. "That was still remarkably quick... I'm sure everything will come back to you in no time!" He beams, doing his best to sound encouraging.

"Thank you for helping me." Elspeth says, letting herself fall back onto the pillow beneath her head. "If I had anything to take as compensation when you found me, it belongs to you. What is your name...?"

"Don't worry about all that." The Elvaan says dismissively. "I'm happy to help. The name's Arvis."

A girl waking with no memory... A town called Narshe and a man called Arvis... For whatever reason, this feels familiar to Elspeth. Like she heard it in a children's tale many years ago.

Arvis chuckles. "Funny, but at least there are no guardsmen knocking on my door looking for you." He jokes. Was he thinking of the same thing? "Get rest. Maybe next time you wake up your handsome thief will be here to whisk you off."

Elspeth blushes at the suggestion, although she's not quite sure why. The man's advice seems sensible though, as Elspeth closes her eyes and drifts off into a deep sleep.

"Ah, sorry. That's 'treasure hunter'..."