It felt good to be out of the desert. Like a bird in flight after months underground. Like the first breath of air after years of stagnation. Kuja had lost himself in his plots and experiments and machinations, and that had been before he’d run across the mage.

Even now, the thought of that creature caused his fingers to curl. Vivi. He’d learn to hate that name in the short time they’d been been properly introduced. With his righteous speeches and his wavering eyes and those flashes of memory he’d sling like daggers. It had made his own lair feel almost unbearable, but such was the price to pay for intel.

It had been months since he’d last made a visit to the Crystalus Divider. Months he’d spent establishing new bases, prototyping new weapons, and extracting information from that hideous mage. Even so, Kuja hadn’t forgotten the gate he’d once been drawn to or the way it had reacted after his foray with the dragons. It was the most conspicuous landmark on this accursed planet, and was one worth his time and attention. Perhaps the inkling of power he’d felt here before would have faded by now or perhaps there would be no sign of change at all. Either way, he needed to test it. To examine it and record his findings. It was an arduous task, but one made far less time-consuming by his chosen medium of transportation.

’There.’ The word came slick on his tongue. Not in the vulgar tones of common Gaian, but in Terran -- a language more suited for psychic connections. ’Descend now. We’ll land shortly.’

His dragon gave a short huff of approval and angled her wings into a sloping decline. Kuja eyed the horizon, twirling feathers between his fingers to pass the time. Night had nearly fallen, but he rather enjoyed the mask of darkness and the silver light of the half-moon. It felt far more natural to him to slip between shadows -- as mysterious and unknowable as the starlit sky. This was a time for deception, and when the light of the sun meant nothing to him, he far preferred it to the pretenses of daylight.

His dragon landed about a quarter of a mile away from the Divider’s main compound. Crumbling ruins lined the road as he approached, but they were not what he was after. The main arch -- the one he’d seen react only months before -- was located at the very center of the campsite, crowded in idiot priests, wayward tourists, and travelers he had no reason to associate with. The place was known as a haven against the planet’s onslaught of monsters, and so his dragon kept her distance lest they set their human obstacles on guard. As it was, Kuja attracted only the usual number of eyes as he sauntered past insomniacs, patrolmen, and the easily woken. They watched him warily, but had no reason to obtrude upon his time.

And so he moved on.

The air changed as Kuja approached the divider. It was charged with something. Tense. The fur on his tail bristled at the change, and he slowed his pace, eyeing the towering figure in the distance. Magic. He touched the arch when he reached it, but it didn’t react. Not like it had in those first weeks upon the release of the Dragon’s Gate. There were the same runes he’d already examined dozens of times. There was that same sense of dimensional anomaly, but there was nothing to explain the sheer energy he felt thick in the air and sharp on his tongue. He brought his own magic to his fingers and touched at the side of the arch itself. It glimmered faintly. A small, green spark that traveled from his finger to the ruins’ midpoint twenty feet above him. But it did nothing else. He felt no further change.

Infuriating. His eyebrows furrowed with the cool narrowing of his eyes. Obtuse. He knew there was power here, so why couldn’t he find it?

Then he paused, hand still outstretched. 'Perhaps,' he thought. 'Perhaps it wasn’t the portal at all.' He glanced behind him, turning slowly on his heel. His eyes scanned the landscape around him, but there were too many ruins, too many crumbling walls, too many forms only a short way in the distance and the rising moonlight wasn’t nearly enough to examine them all. He kept his voice low as he called into the dusk, one hand raised in apprehension. ”Is someone there?”

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The shadows shifted. Just as Kuja had expected, he was not alone.

What emerged from the darkness seemed almost more monster than man. Framed in silhouette, Kuja could make out only the vague shape of bulking cloth, overlong arms, and what looked to be horns drawn up and angled out in arcs behind him. Kuja’s fingers sparked with magic, but it seemed the stranger had no interest in hostilities. In fact, as he stepped into the light of the portal, the expression revealed there was nothing short of pleasant.

”Forgive me. It was not my intention to spy on you, Sir,” he said before tilting his head in a gesture somewhere between apology and curiosity. Kuja glanced over him from his elaborate ceremonial robes that glittered with golden trim to the odd tribal markings at his forehead to the vivid blue antlers that might have been hair. The overall impression was nothing short of absurdity, and yet, there was a certain way that the man carried himself that spoke of an almost regal air. This was a man practiced in the intricacies of noble conversation. Kuja could tell that at an instant.

”You see, I did not wish to interrupt,” the man went on. ”These parts are new to me...I am but a humble traveller, drawn to the arch you stand before.” The man gestured towards it with a light sweep of his sleeve, and in that moment, strange, clawed fingers caught at the light. This man was inhuman. That much was obvious.

“I believe that introductions are in order.” He flashed Kuja a faint smile before touching delicately at his chest. ”Please, allow me. I am Seymour Guado, son of Jyscal and Maester of Yevon.” He made an odd circular gesture with his hands before lowering himself into a practiced bow.

Kuja’s lips twitched. The man knew what he was doing, that was for certain. He knew the right words to say, the best movements, the exact mannerisms that would esteem him to those of class and put the unsuspecting at ease. His facade seemed strong enough to rival even Kuja’s -- at first glance at least.

Meeting someone of his caliber in the middle of ancient ruins was a surprise to say the least, but not an unpleasant one. It had been some time since Kuja had conversed with a man of class.

”A pleasure,” he said before returning the bow with one he’d practiced in the high courts of Alexandria. ”You may call me Kuja,” he said with a sweep of his sleeve and a flick of his wrist before straightening again. ”If we’re sharing titles, then I suppose you could say I’m a sorcerer and a noble in the kingdom of Alexandria. Though that likely means as much to you as a ‘Maester of Yevon’ means to me.” He touched at his lips and laughed softly, tilting his head as he looked over the man in interest.

Yes, this was the source of the power he’d felt before. The air between them was thick with it, pulsing with an almost tangible energy that bristled at the base of his neck. There was magic, yes, but also something more. Something familiar. Something that reflected from the back of his subconscious in a livid, pulsating green.

”I assume you’re familiar with the mystic arts?” Kuja gestured at the arch behind him. Its glow brightened and dimmed like a dormant pulse. ”I’ve studied this place for some time. Its magic is ancient and lost to the ages, but I believe it to be a gate of some kind. A portal, if you will. Though the means to activate it elude me still.” Kuja gave a light sigh before stepping from the dais to meet him. The man looked even odder up close with his violet eyes and facial patterns that ran like rogue veins from his hairline to his cheeks. Kuja couldn’t help a glitter of curiosity in his eye as he approached. Whatever he had been expecting from the night, this was not it.

”I’ve nothing else to do here tonight, but if you’ve lost your way, I’d be happy to direct you. Or we could speak of more arcane matters.” Kuja tilted his head. ”What do you make of the Gate’s design?”

ulla

“My appearance interests you.” The man -- Seymour -- was watching him with a knowing expression. Not judgmental, merely aware in a kind of passive way that pierced through pretense. Kuja paused. He wasn’t used to this level of perception. He couldn’t decide whether it was a welcome change or simply unnerving.

Seymour expanded upon his origins. Of his mixed race and the hardships of it. Kuja’s tail twitched at the story, though he refused to empathize further. There was a reason he posed as human.

The man slipped past him, approaching the gate with cautious, thoughtful steps. Kuja stepped back, crossing his arms as he watched him work. Seymour certainly seemed attuned to magic. In fact, he seemed almost overtaken by his senses as he closed his eyes, breathing slowly through his nose as though feeling its energy rather than inspecting the gate itself. After a moment, Seymour opened his eyes again, straightening as he reached towards it in interest.

“It is...intricate, as if whomever created it took great care to ensure it was precisely the way it was intended to be.” His voice was low, almost revenant with the power of the ancient relic before them. ”But it is also a labyrinth of complexities, shrouded in mystery. Perhaps as a security measure, or a trial, to identify any unworthy of accessing its power?”

”A security measure?” Kuja touched at his bottom lip, eyebrows twitching into a furrow. He hadn’t considered that possibility. Though it was certainly possible that Seymour was wrong -- particularly with so little time to examine it -- there was something about his confidence that made that seem unlikely. First impressions often held their worth when it came to magic, after all. But if it was a trial…

”Then how does one prove himself worthy?” It was not a question that expected an answer. Kuja had plotted so long as to how the portal should be activated that he’d never stopped to consider any further obstructions that he might face. What trials might lie beyond that veil? The possibilities were endless.

Seymour turned to face him, the mask of eloquence already replacing his earlier curiosity. He thanked Kuja for his offer of aid and then paused. A brief flickering of pain crossed his eyes before he’d cleared it once more. ”I confess, I know little of this world, and would gratefully accept any insight you would be willing to share,” he continued. ”Perhaps you could even tell me more of this Alexandria of yours.” Seymour smiled at him then in a way that could have meant anything. Kuja smiled back, the shadow of a smirk touching at his lips. The man’s expressions were like looking into a mirror -- albeit it a distorted one. Kuja flipped his hair over his shoulder and began a few thoughtful paces past him.

”This world,” Kuja started. ”Is the center of everything.” He stopped, tilting his head up to admire the rays of the rising moon. How odd it was to bear witness to just the one -- bathing in silver light rather than red or blue. ”Perhaps you have noticed in your time here or perhaps I am the first you’ve met of any significant standing. But you and I were hardly the only called here, and few share a background the same as any other.”

Kuja glanced back at Seymour, his usual smile faded. ”I know nothing of ‘Yevon’ or ‘Guado’ or anything else by which you might identify yourself. This world is a gathering place for wandering souls torn from their proper stories by forces unimaginable. And before you ask, I’ve found myself as lost as you.” Kuja sighed, shaking his head before turning to face Seymour again.

”The world I last knew was one comprised of warring kingdoms and suffocating beneath a mist of stagnant souls. I rose to the rank of nobility in the kingdom of Alexandria by my own hand, providing them with weapons and knowledge they couldn’t have come by alone.” Kuja paused, considering the doomed kingdom he’d infiltrated, emboldened, and then destroyed with the same breath. ”Alexandria was a trite place concerned only with appearance and headed by a queen driven only by gluttonous desires. Its very power was itself a facade, but one that sought to consume until truth was but a fading dream.” Kuja smirked with a bitterness unbefitting his own grace. ”In truth, I hardly miss it.”

”And what of you?” Kuja tilted his head in interest. ”Your world. Not that it matters much here, but I can’t deny my own curiosity.” He smiled again, all traces of darkness banished once more. ”What have you left behind?”

ulla