To Fly the Soaring Tides

“How interesting…” I don’t recall Dad ever mentioning an ‘Eliza’. At this point, it had to have been half a century ago at least, right? Longer? Was my dad unreasonably old like the skeleton man or my domesticated spider companion? I already know he travelled the Boreal once upon a time, but… “I suppose any great sorcerer should know a great many women across the many skies.” Cira nodded as if a lesson she learned long ago was just affirmed. “Were you perhaps his mistress? He said he never had a wife.”

Gazen somehow managed to teach his daughter a litany of conversational stratagems, but completely glossed over tact. This was perhaps because it was something which often escaped his own grasp.

“I… I don’t think I was…” Somehow Eliza’s expression become very complicated—far too much for Cira to decipher. “Was I…?”

Cira shrugged, “Probably not. You would know better than me here. He wasn’t a member of the Third Order, was he?”

“I… alright then…” Eliza seemed confused for a moment but promptly moved on. Her eyes turned up to the sky in reminiscence, “He was high arbiter to the Second Order, but decided against joining the Third. I always knew Gazen had places he intended to go, so when the day came for him to move on, I had no room to complain. If only I could have—no…”

Eliza let out a long sigh and turned to her speechless colleague, “Come on. It’s time we leave young Cira here to her business.” They rose from the ground with a litany of unconscious mages stuck to the deck with sorcery. “I do hope you come see us, dear. Whatever you’re planning to do… try not to be too careless, alright?”

Cira saw her off with a roll of the eyes. The pendant in her hand held a simple gem, but she didn’t need to inspect it yet. It disappeared to wherever the nectar went as well. Strangely, Eliza didn’t move to reclaim the staves Cira had stacked up next to her. All the mages who joined them as backup or whatever their plan was were totally robbed of their weapons. I was going to give them back…

Hmm, there’s some nice gems in here… Do they really have that many novice space mages? And a girl can always use more rubies and emeralds.

“Cira…” Ella’s voice grew serious, “I think you may have missed some enemies.”

Effulgent water precipitated into spikes in the sky before Cira held her back with a laugh.

“Okay. You idiots can come out now.” Cira held out her arms and panned around to the surrounding trees. branches and vines rustled as amateur mages emerged from every direction. “Enjoy the show?

“You… You were incredible, my Lady.” Captain Shores said with glistening eyes, to which Cira crossed her arms and shook her head.

“Did I not tell you all to stay behind?” She was not amused. While grateful that they tried, I guess…. Cira had fought a mage who could regenerate any wound and move within her spatial domain to an extent. If he wanted to rip her crew apart, he could have done so easily in an instant. “There’s nothing you could have done against enemies like that. Even those grunts I plucked from across the island held more mana than any one of you.”

“So what?!” he shouted, “Haven’t we been over this? Any one of us is ready to put our life on the line to get you through this.”

Her mages had all made good on her last assignment, which did leave her a little impressed. They each had a little orbiting ball of mana—Gil’s was a little flame, Rictor a chunk of metal, Cedric had a little lightning bolt floating around him like a snake. She thought it was a nice touch. All the paladins had a very typical ball of holy light.

Eros seemed to be trying to copy Aquon’s river but it was more just gurgling water following a misshapen path. He got points for trying, but his brother’s passive reservoir was interesting.

“Ice?” Cira asked quizzically while Ella broke a chunk off and ate it.

He gave a smug grin like he was the smartest man alive, “You see… This way I have not only ice, but water too.”

“Smart, but keep in mind the conversion time can be critical in the heat of battle.”

“That’s what I said!” Eros added.

“Now, now… you’ve all done well, despite following me here.” It was almost touching, but Cira couldn’t help but chuckle looking around, “I noticed a few didn’t make it.”

Shores shifted nervously, and Gil filled her in instead, “Sticks said he was gonna listen to the Captain on this one. That made it easy for Tawny and the rest to stay back.”

“That makes sense.” Cira made her triad of staves disappear and the tumultuous Aquon receded most of itself into her ring. “Let’s go. We need to retrieve the soul thresher from Breeze Haven and get down below before I pass out.”

Cira started to inexplicably rise into the air and glided a few feet toward the Shadow Spring before stumbling to the ground and coughing up blood. Her table and chairs disappeared in the same instant.

“You dolt.” Mac spoke across the clearing, “If you hadn’t spread your consciousness across the island, you would be comatose ten times over right now. What makes you think you have the luxury to fly around? In fact, if we don’t make it down there by evening I suspect your only option to survive will be letting me turn you into a lich. At least the entire Lost Cloud will become your phylactery. It wouldn’t be easy to destroy you.”

“First of all, gross.” Cira responded as she clutched onto the side of the boat, trying to figure out how to get in it. “Second of all, do you not remember that island with the red dragon? No thank you.”

Cira tried to heave herself onto the skiff but became frustrated to find she lacked the strength. Watching space condense around her again, Mac commanded her crew, “This is your moment, Captain Shores. Help your beloved Saint onto the boat and carry her to the soul forge. Otherwise, you’re weak enough you may as well wait on Breeze Haven.”

“O-of course I will fulfill this duty!” He picked Cira up as she grunted in reluctance, then stepped onto the boat and sat down with her still in full princess carry, eyes glowering like hot embers. “Thank you for your guidance, Lord Spider.”

___

Ella thanked Cira for the afternoon entertainment and wished her a cheerful, “Get well soon!” With a childlike smile on her face as she skipped into the river and disappeared.

“Oh… alright then.” Cira had questions for her but couldn’t recall them. Her eyes felt awful heavy and she became irritated when she realized she was still in Captain Shore’s arms.

It was difficult to earn herself the right to be placed in a seat, of which there were many because they brought another boat for whatever failed plan they hatched. They arrived nearby to the meeting place while Cira struggled to roll her keystones across the sand and hid poorly in the foliage as she caught her breath. It was shameful that Cira didn’t notice them until she activated the grand array, but thinking about it too hard hurt.

“If you sever your ties with the landform artifacts now, your consciousness will probably disperse to the aether, irrecoverably.” Mac warned. When even sitting upright hurt, his words actually started to worry her. “Just stay awake until we get to the bottom. You’ll be fine.”

Cira waited on the boat while her crew grabbed the final supplies. Apparently, food and the soul thresher—but then out came a fully crafted essence loom.

“W-what?” Cira was confused, “We were going to build it in place… It’s very delicate.”

The artifact was just like the illustrations, made of completely clear mana crystal with a mithril helix lining the cylindrical inner wall. It was crafted with remarkable quality, and Cira couldn’t help but admire it. This looked like the end product in her mind after she finished crafting it herself.

“Your students took the initiative under Kuja’s direction.” Mac replied, “I had a feeling you would be useless when the time came anyway so I didn’t bother stopping it. They needed a few pointers, of course.”

“Mac, the nicer you are, the closer I feel to death.” Cira blinked a couple times, and they were traveling through the first level of archaeum. The shadow barrier took too much effort to disperse, so it had been waiting outside Breeze Haven, now encompassing two small boats side by side. One carried the soul thresher and a few mages, while the rest of the original expedition crew was on her skiff. For some reason, James was steering this one. “Hey, what are you doing here?”

He shrieked at her nudge, “Gah! Don’t sneak up on me down here! I thought you were dead. Do you think I want to be here?”

Cira narrowed her gaze at him and suddenly they were departing the stairs into the goblin kingdom. As darkened faces appeared in their wake, she offered them a tired smile and waved lazily.

“Look.” Her voice held a pleasant joy, “They all came to see me.”

“Gods,” Jimbo breathed out heavily, “What is going on with you? Dead one second, smiling deliriously at shadows the next.”

“This fool overestimated herself again—” Mac’s words fell off at a point and Cira found herself staring up at her reflection—carved from stone. They sailed over a sea of goblins to the next stairwell.

Sorry guys… I can’t be your king today. I promise I’ll make it up to you.

An explosion of steam startled Cira awake as flame flickered against the Second Tomb’s walls.

“Dammit, Cira.” Mac reprimanded her with impatience, “What part of stay awake don’t you underst—”

A blaring sun burned through Cira’s eyelids and when she opened them Eros and Leros were on the floor. Tawny was drenched in sweat while a massive sprite floated through the passageway without relent. Gil was on his knees pushing against it with his flame sorcery, but it didn’t care.

“goodness…” Cira held out her palm. “That thing could become a salamander tomorrow.”

When she clenched her hand into a fist, the flame sprite disappeared as if it never existed in the first place. Cira flew into a coughing fit as she felt someone grab onto her shoulders, but then her senses failed for a time. Everything went black and whoever’s hands felt miles away.

___

Hangman’s Cove was unusually lively under the rare sun. For some reason, it was a day brighter than any of the residents could remember having experienced even off island. The warm sunlight felt rejuvenating on their bodies, energizing.

The boardwalk was full, while the Flying Dutchess was packed. Pirates clinked their glasses while two young girls let ale flow freely from its barrels. Doctor Larry looked like he ran a boarding house where people could sleep off the liquor and Is that Skipper at the market…?

A river of darkness had spread almost all throughout the lost Cloud. If anything, condensing the earth around it only made the island stronger. Meanwhile, each Landform Cira enchanted had become a pylon of earthen mana.

To what end Cira gathered great masses of mana remotely was unclear, but she felt it was the right thing to do. For one, Prismagora danced in the light above Hangman’s Cove, soaking everything up, while Shadow Quill awaited her in the Soul Forge. Aquon… was still on Cira’s finger. It had enough water for now.

For a moment her gaze trailed over the island’s surface, just giving it a quick once over while she had the time. She fell upon a gorgeous tree with leaves like glistening jade. Strange pods hung from its canopy and sap flowed down its trunk that glistened red like blood in the sun.

After inspecting it for a moment, Cira felt a weird sensation that made her hair stand on end. Suddenly, she felt something staring right back at her. Could this be the evil tree Jimbo mentioned…? Maybe I’ll leave it alone for now—

Wait a minute. What am I doing wandering the island? Aren’t I…

“Hey, what the hell happened to the boats?” When Cira opened her eyes, she was in Captain Shores’ arms again.

“L-Lady Cira!” His face was painted in shocked disbelief. “I thought you were done for!”

She blinked in frustration, trying to stay in the present. For some reason there was a team of eight shadow goblins carrying the soul thresher while a few more carried the essence loom. The whole crew was walking within the safety of the shadow barrier. Cira found herself just on the other side of the river.

“Goblins…?” Cira tilted her head.

Tawny dryly relayed the information Cira wanted. There were bags under her eyes, and it was clear she was trying not to look exhausted, “That sprite you erased burned down both our boats, but those goblins popped out of your shadow when we were fighting the slimes. Did you really just notice them?”

“They did what…?”

“Enough!” Mac shouted, “If you are finally present, you need to prepare yourself. A weak will can only result in a flawed reconstruction. You must envision yourself once you come out of the soul forge. This is not a process to begin in your usual lackadaisical manner. This is your essence and your entire future. The rest of you shut up until we get there.”

Myself once I leave the soul forge, huh…? I wonder. After all this trouble, surely, I should come out much better than I was when I landed on Fount Salt. On that note, this spatial array sure has thrown me for a loop. I’m not really an island. I’m just a girl. Perhaps if I wasn’t able to melt earlier, I would have died as I did in the spring chamber. Nina wasn’t around to shower me with aethereal stimulants this time around either. But what kind of a girl just turns into water and back?

I have only gratitude for what Undina did for me, but didn’t I admonish the necromancer for trading his own humanity? Is it different if I’ve traded my humanity on accident or for survival? In fact, on what ground have I traded my humanity in the first place? Sure, I may have killed a few people since landing here… That’s new. Somehow, I feel liquifying myself weighs less on the scales than extinguishing a life—returning them to the cycle undue.

Yet how can I complain about the cycle and natural order of things when I just turned the ambiguity of fate into a sprite to overpower a man who spent hundreds of years studying diligently to the point he could call upon the void which predated anything primordial. By all rights, he should have destroyed me and my crew, and he totally deserved to after such hard work, I might add.

How many times have I thwarted destiny? I didn’t feel its threads turn to water in my palm on Fount Salt, but is that just because Undina improved my senses? Were my actions predetermined, or did fate simply get out of my way?

I’m not getting anywhere.

Isn’t this what the sorcerer’s code is for? If fate should crumble before me in the future, in fact, wouldn’t it stand for reason that fate decided to defy the sorcerer’s code? In that case it’s perfectly reasonable—wait, that’s not what I’m getting at.

I would gladly break Nanri from her chains, stifle an ancient witch, or dismantle a tyrannical pirate king. This is because of the sorcerer’s code, isn’t it? These days, my heart grows heavy when I feel I’m not adhering to it. Everyone who died by my hand or that of my crew’s stood to take more lives themselves or subject the living to misery. Is it not fair that I killed them?

Some could be imprisoned like Black Scourge Don or the big guy, but when men and women—and any children they took care of—look up to me for their well-being… I have no choice. When seconds determine their mortality, sometimes the only way to stop someone is with excess power—lethal force.

Some of these pirates are seriously bad guys, too. Not all of them get a free pass because Wick kidnapped their wives and children. Hell, they rob merchant ships to supply goods to this island. I wouldn’t put it past some of them to raid random islands for resources and raze them on the way out. I can practically see them throwing Heron Village a second festival.

I obviously can’t stay behind and become the pirate king—or queen I guess. But I can’t just leave this place as is on my way out. Before I had Lomp to pick up the slack, but it was quite unfair to him. I don’t think my father ever thrust as many responsibilities onto anyone as I did Lomp… Perhaps I’ve been kind of half-assing it, but I couldn’t have full-assed it without battling an endless stream of witches.

Didn’t I do my best, though?

That’s right. I wasn’t even capable of doing a better job than I did, rushed or not. I made a friend only to deceive and betray her for resources, then thrust the hardest long-term work on a gang of good-natured folk who could use steady employment. Solving my problems with money will never be the path to masterful sorcery. They’re just materials to me, but I certainly used them as money. Now my forge weeps.

Shameful.

My father would have found a way to never put himself at odds with Earth Vein were he in my shoes, I’m sure. Hell, he would’ve written them a letter and told them to stop on by. This way, nobody would have minded his presence, then they would have celebrated his good deeds. He didn’t become the Sage of Myriad Titles for saving the day in the shadows then disappearing in a violent monsoon of holy light, leaving important people crippled in his wake.

After I leave the soul forge, perhaps I will be able to call myself a sorcerer of at least intermediate caliber, but I still have a long way to go. Either way, I believe my humanity will not be defined by the state of my physical being, nor even what I look like on the surface. No, my humanity shall be defined at a similar pace to which I hone my sorcerer’s code.

When I leave the soul forge, All I can hope is to be a greater sorcerer than I am today.

“Without her, it may be difficult to calibrate the soul forge.” Kuja whispered to someone.

“Shhh.” Mac replied, “With all the tools present, I can handle a majority of the process. It operates on rather basic principles, after all.”

Mac’s been alright lately. I can’t think of anyone more capable to oversee the reforging of my soul. According to a loose-sheet poem I found in the forbidden archive, soul weavers understand souls in the way humans smell smells or hear sounds. I am in good hands, even if there are eight of them, and they’re actually something more like microscopically barbed paws at the end of unreasonably segmented legs.

“What’s that light…?” Cira asked as her mages channeled mana into a strange pit in the ground.

“It’s ready.” Tawny said curtly, “All you guys go wait on the stairs for a while.”

“Huh…?” Cira watched most of her crew disappear into the shadows. For some reason, Kuja and Tawny helped her out of her robes.

“Are these not important to you, Child?” Kuja wore the face of someone smiling through grief, “I’ll make sure to wash and fold them, so they’re waiting for you just over there.”

Her eyes pointed to a desk Cira recalled to have procured something quite informative from.

“Kuja… Tawny.” Cira was far past the disorientation, and she didn’t have a whole lot going on which required her attention, so all eyes were on the soul forge. “This place… We’re here, aren’t we?”

When one contracts their muscles or flexes them to the point of intense strain, blood’s warmth floods the body. In a similar way, space within the soul forge grew denser as Cira’s bare skin was exposed so as to use ambient aether as a cozy blanket of sorts. She didn’t notice her helpers’ strained expressions as she shivered.

“We need you to give us the nectar now, Cira.” As she brushed off the spider’s words with a wave of the hand, four bottles of beautiful red liquid appeared. Cira took a moment to admire them before they found their way to the desk, where a few more bottles had appeared. That’s right… That man—Shores found some too, didn’t he? What a guy.

“Push her in before she falls asleep,” Mac continued, and Cira blinked her eyes in frail lucidity as the world rotated towards her.

“Wait—”

___

The world was dark for a long time, and then one day—the first day—dawn revealed the endless horizon. Cira studied reluctantly at first, then she evolved into a budding sorceress as curiosity bloomed. Well, her father was a sorcerer. Naturally, she wanted nothing else than to be a sorcerer equal to or better than him.

Could she ever shine as bright as the man who took her in? Could she ever shine bright enough to burn away the darkness which slumbered in her past?

Cira’s life was full of deep darknesses and brighter lights. From the day she was stolen away, to the dragon’s flame, to dappled cerulean on silver.

A life shorter than the one Cira had really lived flashed before her eyes. The rest was long forgotten. Images that could have been flickered. Snuffed out by her will, the dark splotches incessantly painted a picture of death, torment, and regret like a sore wound that festered unnoticed.

It was unclear at this point if Cira had hands to hold it, but the weight of that miserable portrait carried her essence further down, to places darker than the shadows she had come to know the past week. Depths of a sea so abysmal she subconsciously decided living under the inscrutable light of the sorcerer’s code was the only choice she ever had.

Only to discover it was never a choice at all. She didn’t know much about the destiny engraved on some theoretical stone far away, but Cira never had the luxury of a fate without her darkness. That was never in the cards. If this crushing pressure of the sins wrought with her own hands was what awaited her, she was glad Gazen sealed it away as long as he could.

She may never be a normal girl, but she was at least afforded a brief glimpse in her youth. One thing was certain. It was always Cira’s fate to face her past.

Cira let go of her body’s senses, joining Kuja and Tawny in watching her tormented screams echo through the soul forge from above until everything faded away.