The World Sight was a desolate place haunted by snow and tragedy. It was a place of cracked stone and icy precipices, of cautious eyes and blood stained floors. Celes had heard the stories as well as anyone – of the two massacres that had rocked the foundations of Zephon back before the threat of dragons or floods or sky-bearing demons had finally shifted the conversation. At this site, in these snowy hills, one of the first dimensional travelers had slaughtered the guards of the World Sight and awakened Zephon to a supernatural danger like never before. Only a few months later, the place’s security had been done away with again by a mysterious mage who’d slipped away with some of the priceless relics inside. Now the World Sight stood as a monument to the dangers of magic and swords and of the wanderers who used them.

It seemed as good a place for Celes as any.

She didn’t know what it was that had drawn her here. Maybe it had been the tragic lore or the desolate landscape or maybe she’d just walked until she came somewhere, anywhere at all. The cities were too placid for her – at least until they’d both been dealt terrible misfortune. Now they served as reminders of the destruction that seemed to follow her like a shadow, first Torensten and then Provo. Since then, she’d stayed mostly to herself taking jobs here and there and never really making attachments. The wilds were the only places for her. At least here she could think.

”You’re going after the wyverns?”

Celes looked over at the traveler beside her. He was a haggard looking man, ragged and tired in all the worst ways. He’d taken up a vigil by the World Sight ever since his son had been taken by a wayward dragon – waiting and begging for someone to take vengeance. There were others calling for the death of the dragons as well, mostly merchants who wanted the path clear of danger again. But it was this man that had caught Celes’ attention as she’d started through the pass. She’d seen the hopeless look in his eye too many times in that wretched wasteland Kefka had wrought. She wouldn’t stand to see it again.

”Soon.” Celes squinted up at the top of the tower. She couldn’t see anything perched at its peak, but the tower was so wide that they could have been hiding anywhere among its precipices. ”I just needed a few supplies.”

The man’s eyes were wide as he watched her – trembling. ”There’s been so many times they’ve told me that. No one’s ever come back.”

”Well. I’ve dealt with worse than dragons.” Celes gripped at the handle of her sword. In all honesty, she had no idea how she’d manage it. She’d fought with all kinds of terrible monsters, particularly in that lifeless wasteland, but hardly ever alone and never a dragon. Still, she wasn’t one to die easy. ”Someone has to do it.”

The man gave her an almost sad look before nodding and wishing her the best of luck. Celes stood alone, watching the tower for a moment, before starting up the abandoned path. The air was too cold for her usual leotard, so she wore her armor and cape over her civilian clothes – an odd combination that left her feeling like a mix of everything and nothing at all. As the tower came ever closer in view, she wondered which version of herself she was today. The general? The rebel? The wanderer? The mercenary? She had no idea, but she supposed it hardly mattered when she could be dead by noon.

”Hello?”

Celes stopped and glanced behind her to see someone else on her lonely path – a boy who looked only a little older than the one who’d been snatched away. Celes blinked at him, tilting her a little at the sight before her. ”I thought they closed everything off this way,” she said more to herself than to him before adding, ”You shouldn’t be here. There are dragons up there, and they’re dangerous. Haven’t you heard about that boy?” Celes crossed her arms at him almost impatiently. ”Do you need someone to take you back? I won’t let you go through until it’s safe.”

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To Celes’ surprise, the boy didn’t ask for her help. Instead, he just crossed his arms, looking almost smug before telling her that he was exactly where he meant to be. Celes blinked, looking him over again, before realization hit her like a truck. Of course. From his odd colorful clothes to his confident demeanor to his white hair, she should have known that he wasn’t from around here. A second look also proved him to be older than she’d first assumed – somewhere between fifteen and seventeen if she had to guess and only a few years younger than herself regardless. ”My name is Hope Estheim,” he said as though to confirm her suspicions. ”And I am talented in the use of magic.”

Celes felt her mouth open, but no words came out. What should she say? An apology? An explanation? She couldn’t make up her mind quickly enough to say anything at all.

”I’ve come here on the behalf of the villagers,” the boy continued. ”An answer to their pleas of getting rid of the dragons. They informed me that someone else was on their way to clear ou the tower, but it seemed very well like it was the job for more than one person. I assume that’s you?” The boy – Hope – dropped his arms stretched out his shoulders. ”If it is, it’s probably best if we don’t’ stand around. Who knows when those dragons will take another child as their next meal?”

Celes stared at him for a moment, waiting for her thoughts to catch up with her before her lips pursed uncertainly. ”Right,” she said. ”We should keep moving.” She turned before he could see the heat at her cheeks, and started walking again before she could say anything that would embarrass her later. Why had she spoken so quickly?

Of course someone his age could help fight a dragon. She’d never asked Relm her age, and Gau was as unknowable as he was feral, but they were both still children likely younger than whatever prey the dragons had taken. How often had Celes herself been dismissed for her unexpected age and gender in the Geystahlian military? She’d hated it then and looked upon those who’d doubted her with utmost disdain – yet here she was, doing the same thing herself. Stupid. Why had she judged him so quickly?

”I didn’t realize you came from off-world,” she said in what was almost an apology. Even her explanation sounded ridiculous. Off-world? Even after all this time, she couldn’t rid herself of the absurdity of it all. ”The people here wouldn’t know the sharp side of a sword. I didn’t realize…” She trailed off without anything else to say. She felt her cheeks flare again.

”You use magic?” she tried instead. It was such an odd conversation starter that her tongue almost curdled around it. It wasn’t anything she could have said where she came from, at least. Not in a reality where magic was a dangerous and mythical art derived from the blood of espers. ”That’s…different.”

The word felt flat, even to her, but what else could she say? The context of it all was too foreign to her. The reality too changed, and she couldn’t shake off the shame of her earlier mistake. It hung from her like an invisible weight – you are everything you once hated.

Why was she so bad at casual conversation?

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The boy followed her at a distance. Was he too cautious to come any closer? Celes wouldn’t have blamed him if he was, but then maybe she was over thinking it. Maybe he was only trailing behind because she’d bolted away.

”It’s fine, I get it all the time.” He sounded almost casual as he said it – unoffended and far less tense than she was. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if it was only an act. If she’d been slighted that way, she would have held resentment close behind her tongue. Still, it certainly seemed forgiven. The boy followed the rest of her conversation effortlessly.

He joked that the people here only got themselves in trouble because they didn’t know the first thing about combat – not that he did either, he added, though he specified only that he didn’t use a sword. The topic of magic went over far smoother than it would have for Celes herself. Just like everyone else in this nonsensical place, the boy was completely blasé about one of the most destructive forces on the planet. ”I got used to it,” he said, laughing. ”It never came naturally at first.” It was an odd thing to say in a sea of odd people, powers, and norms that she still couldn’t make sense of. For Celes, magic had come as naturally as breathing, but only after it had been injected into her blood. She wondered as to the source of his power, though held her tongue for fear of seeming rude. Thankfully, the boy switched the topic before she had to think of a safe reply.

”Oh! I haven’t gotten a chance to ask, what’s your name?”

Celes let out a breath. That was easy enough to answer. ”Celes,” she told him though it still sounded wrong without her full name and rank. ”I use magic. And a sword. I was in the military.” Above them, she heard a strange, rustling noise coming from the top of the tower. Whatever was up there was shifting, and it was big. Celes let out a breath and touched at the sword at her side. At least combat she understood.

”Whatever’s up there, it won’t go down without a fight. We’ll need to prepare ourselves.” Celes glanced back at the boy. Whatever his skill, he seemed willing to listen at least. Unlike almost anyone Celes had found herself fighting beside before. Maybe strategy wasn’t entirely pointless this time around. ”I should know your spells. Your fighting style. Whatever you’re planning to do.” She paused, considering the tower again before adding, ”As I said, I can handle both magic and a sword. My runic blade can actually absorb magic, so I can handle myself against any stray spell it casts.” It felt so satisfying to be able to tell someone that upfront. How many missions had she gone on with well-meaning men trying to protect her from magic she could have dealt with better on her own? She nearly scoffed at the thought.

”If you can’t handle a sword, then you should stay back. I’ll draw its attention away.” She glanced at him again, eyes sharp and ready. ”Any problems?”

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To Celes' immense surprise, the boy answered...intelligently. Celes could barely contain her shock as she looked back at him, eyebrows raised. Since the moment she'd woken in the middle of a forest with a headache like the mother of all hangovers, Celes had stumbled into misogynistic meatheads, excitable heroes, and idiot swordsmen more interested in bravado than skill, but not once had she fought alongside anyone with a single thought for strategy. This boy signing up to join her was nothing short of a miracle.

The boy told her that he was best with "curative magic, elemental magic, things of that nature" and that he was best kept at a distance. Then he pulled a curved, yellow something from his belt and showed it to her. "I can control this with a remote," he said, "Though it doesn't do nearly as much damage as a sword or lance might."

"Really." The word came with a level of cynicism that she usually reserved for idiots and soldiers. Why on earth would he carry around such an ineffective weapon? Unless she was missing something, it wasn't particularly sharp. It didn't have any kind of blunt weight to it. It was a weapon so inconvenient that she wondered why he hadn't replaced it with a real blade at some point, though she didn't have long to consider it. There was a horrible scream above them, and Celes braced herself as she looked up to a beastly shadow lumbering over the edge of the stone precipice. It shook out its spiked neck, stretched its leathery wings, and tipped itself over the side, flying straight towards them. Celes gripped her sword tighter and took several steps back. They had only a few seconds.

Celes thrust her fingers together and muttered invocations under her breath. Her blood chilled, the winds picked up, and Celes caught the wyvern in a third-level blizzard spell before it could hit the ground. It screeched its displeasure as the moister of its wings stiffened and froze -- its flight knocked off balance as it plummeted unsteadily towards the ground. It landed with a crash before them, throwing up rock and dust alike with the massive weight of its body.

Celes didn't wait for the debris to settle. She charged towards it -- too preoccupied with keeping it busy to let caution slow her step. It didn't see her coming, but swiped its clawed hand to clear the rocks before it, nearly catching her on her pauldron. She took the opportunity to slash through the tendons of its wrist, and once again, it screamed its fury. She back-stepped from there, but not quickly enough. A glance above her showed the monster's vicious eyes narrowed on her. And then came a flash of teeth.

She raised her sword defensively, but knew it wouldn't be enough. If the mage was worth anything, he'd make her reckless charge worthwhile.

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