To Fly the Soaring Tides

Cira didn’t know the first thing about patching up a hole in the aether, and it showed. She tried to block the death mana in a couple different ways, but her arrays would only shatter. She could stop a necromancer from conjuring, for instance, but she didn’t seem capable of doing anything to stop Kuja’s fatal bloom from rampaging into existence.

Simply patching it didn’t work, hence the failed glyphs. Cira needed to completely restore it to it’s previous condition, before death began filtering in from the aether. To restore something’s state she had to know a great deal about it, and she was realizing she didn’t know very much about fatal blooms. Namely, how and why they occur.

That’s one thing to look into, but it won’t help me today… It seems I need a different approach, and I’m nearly out of time.

Each of her attempts took a minute or two, so she only had a couple tries left at best, and to everyone’s horror, the fountain of death spilling into the courtyard only grew greater, so as to be visible to even the naked eye. It would have been quite dangerous were Cira not containing it.

Curses? No… No more curses for a while. Too risky, anyway. How about… soul remediation…?

That could work… her body should reflect the regression her soul makes. At the very least, shouldn’t I be able to put the soul back in its right place this way? I don’t think it’s enough to stop the flow of death, though…

“Well?” James urged with a tone of concern. “Is she gonna be okay—”

Cira shot him a glare, “Shh. I need to think.”

She realized that everyone in the courtyard was watching her. From Wick chained on the ground to all his men, and even the people of Hangman’s Cove had crept in to gaze at Kuja’s corpse with bated breath. Apparently, everyone knew her and were going through a range of emotions.

It was beginning to make the sorcerer quite nervous.

“Okay… I can’t reverse death… The only way through is forward. Just like always.” It was a golden rule of sorcery, after all. “So, I must use the mana present to my own ends—Wait, that’s it!”

Cira clenched her fists and Shadow Quill started moving around as she waved her finger to and fro.

“What, are you gonna reforge her or something?” Tawny unhid herself from a veil of wind and posed a decent enough question, Cira thought.

“She would never make it to the forge in time, and I have my doubts that would quell her state of death.” Cerulean streams rose around Cira and spiraled between each other as they made their way over to Kuja. “My only choice is to convert it and hope to reshape the well.”

“What does that mean—” Cira stopped paying attention.

I’m not sure how I would start were I not working within the same spectrum. Like this… perhaps I can progress the aether’s breach from death clear through to life. It’s like working with dark and light, after all. In fact, I say it’s downright convenient.

Now, Cira didn’t have any remediation tonic handy, and such medicines took time. That wouldn’t work here, no.

It was fortunate that she recovered a few unfortunate memories during her slumber. Not everything, somehow, and she didn’t have time to process that intruder yet. She was also certain her father burned up the last of his soul to protect her one final time, but Cira had remembered enough.

I’ll never be your progeny, and I abhor all those experiments you made me do… You ancient bastard… But my only choice is to rely on what I learned as a child.

Typically, to handle someone’s soul she would take out her primordial relic—the Auld Sprig. She was sure she could do quite a bit more than curse with it after her brief moment of reminiscence, but that didn’t mean she intended to use it.

One thing she was adamant in having a choice over was whether or not to use that ancient piece of wood.

It always felt disgusting in her hand. The feel of the dry wood and rough burls. The ominous presence it gave off. Even just looking at it made her feel horrible—guilty even. Come to think of it, that much makes sense now…

Cira produced so many monsters and corpses each day with the oblivious innocence that only a child could ever achieve. When her thoughts even got close to what happened back then it felt like her heart skipped a beat or the cogs that turn her mind stalled for a moment. It froze her up and she realized she had forgotten to breathe.

Dammit, the time to wallow is later. I need to save Kuja. I was really excited to never think about souls again, but I can’t do this without manipulating hers. I’m not going to change her. I must not. I need only restore her to how she was before she died. This is my mistake and I’m going to fix it this time. That’s all this is.

“Here we go…” Aquon’s waters encased Kuja’s soul, and she felt the ambient dread exuding from it lessen. That had to be a good sign.

I know what soul remediation is supposed to look like. Now that I think about it, I saw it hundreds of times over from the spring chamber of Fount Salt. It was a very slow process there, but I don’t have to go far. Just a smidge and we should be fine. Aaaaaaand, that should do it.

The soul in Cira’s aethereal hands glowed radiantly and inexplicably floated back towards the body it belonged to.

Shit, will my array work? There’s no going back now. I either save or murder Kuja…

The nerve-wracking part of all this was the intricate runic formation Cira carved into the place where Kuja’s soul should be could not activate until it arrived. Or in other words, once the remediating soul made contact with the body and it started to be affected in response.

The best Cira could do was shield it in a barrier that felt like it took a decade off her life. A temporary measure at best. She watched it wither away in luminous decay before the white light seemed to shimmer.

Life and death looked exactly the same when talking about mana colors, but one was dull and bleak, while the other lustrous. Life shined with vitality and hope.

Similarly, Kuja’s body began to shimmer as her soul truly settled in. Cira’s newly improved sight watched it mend in place as if it had never been removed in the first place. She almost couldn’t believe it—that it actually worked, that is.

For a moment, Kuja’s body seemed to explode with life, blinding everyone present. Cira felt some of her arrays shatter and ran up in a panic.

“Kuja!” She heard her feet hit the ground and grabbed her, softening her blow as they both fell. Cira pushed herself up as the light faded, holding Kuja in her arms. Cira felt her chest heave. She… She’s breathing! I can feel her heartbeat, “Kuja, are you alive?!”

The tension in the courtyard was so thick Cira would struggle to cut it with the Space Knife. The sorcerer could feel everyone around her watching with bated breath and even she herself was staring down at what had to be Kuja with disbelief.

“Cira…? She blinked her eyes, taking in the world around her, “No… Child… you didn’t.”

“What…?” Cira asked.

“Why didn’t you let me die?!” Regret tinged her voice while her eyes bespoke a hint of betrayal.

“How can you say that?” Cira was aghast, but thinking about it, it wasn’t so unreasonable. “And first of all, are you really Kuja? You don’t look a day older than I am.”

“O-of course I’m Kuja! Who else could I be?” She felt her face with an indignant glare which promptly crumbled when Cira conjured a mirror-like surface and placed it in front of her. Her graying hair was now a rich black that glistened in the sun like raven’s feathers. Her wrinkled skin had regained its firmness, and her complexion was practically glowing. Were it not partially for Kuja’s facial structure and mostly for the fact that her soul was right there, Cira wouldn’t have recognized her. “What… What have you done to me?”

She placed a hand on her chest and gave Cira a look like she had been turned into some kind of monster, but that wasn’t really the case. She was positive this time.

“Well, let me be clear. You are not undead. You are very much alive.” Kuja responded with abject confusion. “In fact, you may be more alive than most. It appears I may have made a slight miscalculation remediating your soul, or this is just the effects of hosting a well of life mana in your chest. I can’t say I had time to do any research first.”

It had slowed considerably, but there was a constant flow of life mana pouring out of Kuja. Most of it went into her aura, but it also seemed to surround her like she exuded a rejuvenating presence to everyone near her. Kuja seemed to feel it too and couldn’t stop staring dumbfounded at Cira.

“I’m sorry…” the sorcerer continued, “You only died because of me… and I didn’t even consider if you wanted to come back, but… You were alive when I got here so you sure as shit aren’t going to be dead when I leave.”

Kuja broke away from her and rose to her own two feet, clasping her hands like they were unfamiliar to her. “Child… I have to admit what you’ve done is remarkable… This isn’t your fault though. Not by a longshot. It’s his.”

Kuja still held centuries of fury as she pointed her eyes to Captain Wick on the floor. He shuddered as everyone else followed suit. It seemed the Hangman’s Alliance took this moment to finally enter the scene. Cira grew wary as a man approached with a sword holstered at his belt, but his eyes held no enmity. He’s not one of Wick’s men… He came in with the others, didn’t he?

“C-Captain Dreadheart?!” He seemed like he didn’t mean to yell but was really nervous. A middle-aged man dressed in stripes and a ragged vest.

“Uh… Yeah, that’s me.” She replied with a hook-hand gesture, “Yargh.”

The man blinked in confusion before collecting himself, “Right, er… Forgive me. My name is Bron John Bradley. Just a carpenter that grew up in the Cove… but I’m here today as the chancellor of the People’s Temporary Republic of Dreadheart. It’s my absolute honor to meet you, Lady Saint.”

He fell to one knee and bowed his head.

Cira intended to complain but was stunned into silence for an unfortunate moment while almost everyone behind him also kneeled. This allowed another man to approach, somewhere around Jimbo’s age but with both legs. Another man followed behind him like a retainer.

“I’m real glad you’re not dead, Kuja. Sorry about everything,” the first man said before turning to Cira, “But all you did is pull some fancy magic. I’m not buying this saint bullshit. You ain’t some goddess the sky shat out. I ain’t buyin’ it—”

“Thank you for your concern, Dear.” His face flushed red as Kuja gave him a terribly youthful smile. Her elderly dialect came off as very warm with such a sweet voice.

“R-Ripley, shut up!” The man behind him grabbed onto his shoulder. “You shouldn’t offend her!”

Cira smirked and the first man stumbled back.

“Finally,” She placed a hand on his frozen shoulder, “Someone willing to talk some damn sense around here. You’re not so bad, whoever you are… Ripley sounds familiar though, doesn’t it?”

She glanced at Jimbo, and he was laughing, already walking up with a flask in his hand, “Already came crawlin’ back, didya? You know I heard Wick only found Kuja cuz o’ you.”

He went pale as Cira became very curious. “Oh…? So, you’re with him after all—”

“No! I swear I’m not! He just followed me!” Now he fell to his knees. Not in reverence, but fear, “Please forgive me! I didn’t mean to lead the bastard there!”

Kuja’s village was burned down because this guy let Wick follow him… But if I blamed him I’d only be deflecting. It’s still all my fault.

“Oh, get off your knees before my opinion of you changes.” Despite her words, her eyes were less than friendly. “Are you a member of this people’s republic or whatever?”

“Well, uh, not really—”

“Good. We could use someone like you around here.”

“What are your plans with Wick?” Jimbo replied, leaving a deflated Ripley unable to speak. “You know you’re the pirate queen now. Whole town’s been waitin’ for ya.”

Cira looked around the courtyard and even Wick’s men seemed to have lost the fight in them. Nobody seemed to care for that man any longer except for a very small and sparse few. For some reason, there were five half-naked women of various hair colors and skin tone hovering behind her now.

“Right… I’ve been thinking a lot about this.” There was a glint in the numerous suns’ light and something emerged from the rubble of the palace wall. It was a golden crown. As soon as it got close, Jimbo slapped it out of the air.

“Don’t you get any funny ideas!” He seemed rather worried. “I know you’re not sticking around.”

“Rude.” Cira replied, picking it back up, “You know what they say about making assumptions… No, I don’t believe this island needs a king.”

“We pledge ourselves to Captain Dreadheart!” All the pirates of the People’s Republic shouted their support in unison. “Long live the pirate queen!”

Cira could only let out a long a grueling sigh, amplified by wind sorcery, “No… No, dammit! Don’t pledge loyalty to anything! You’re pirates, aren’t you?! Live for yourselves, not me!”

Despite her outrage, cheers resounded from all around the courtyard.

“Yeahhh!!!”

“Tell it like it is!”

“Long live Queen Dreadheart!”

Gods be damned… Can I fly away yet?

“This brings me to my next point.” Her echoing voice silenced everyone around as it traveled on the wind. It seems convincing everyone of this will be much easier than I envisioned. “Captain Wick’s fate does not belong to me. It belongs to all of you, as does this island. Speaking of… I do not believe Captain Cloud’s legacy need remain. I shall hereby bring an end to it myself.”

She thought that last part would really rub some of these natural-born pirates the wrong way, but every single set of eyes lit up. Men awoke from the ground and sobered up in one go as they looked to her with newfound hope. Even Wick shared a twinkle of reverence.

“What the hell…?” She said under her breath.

“Way to go, Dreadheart.” Jimbo mused, with a grin, twiddling his mustache and offering his flask, “You just told everyone you were gonna find the Elysian Atoll yourself.”

“The… what?”

“Paradise! Eden Island. The damn solid gold shores every pirate in this place has been lookin’ for!” Jimbo threw his hands out in disbelief, “How else you gonna put an end to Cloud’s legacy? His legacy was findin’ that damn island!”

Shit. I forgot it wasn’t just this whole pretending to be royalty thing. I sure got myself in a pickle this time…

“Whatever. I’ll make short work of it,” Cira tried waiting for everyone to stop cheering again but they only increased in volume and fervor. She decided she would have to just continue over them. “The Pirate Kingdom of Lost Cloud is as of now abolished.”

That quieted everyone down. There were nervous whispers and uncertain groans.

Cira brought the golden crown into the air for all to see and broke it apart evenly between each point, taking a little to spare and crafting a chain to hold each one.

“I have split the crown into eight pieces. The first goes to Jimbo,” She continued, slipping a pendant around his neck at the speed of sound. He shuddered when it appeared. “Next, James of course, and I guess this Ripley fellow should get one.”

The three looked at her with varying degrees of baffled while she had to actively muffle the crowd with wind magic, “The Lost Cloud is no more. Today marks the founding of New Acher, and you three are the first members of the People’s Council.” She turned to Kuja and held out another, “Of course, I think this island largely belongs to you, too.”

Kuja held up a hand in refusal, wearing an uncertain smile, “No thank you. I’m too old to be on some council.” She did not look it.