Chapter Text
“Brother, we need to talk.”
Edgar greeted Sabin and Terra at the bottom of the staircase. They were supposed to meet for the battle plan in just a few minutes. Sabin didn’t like the tone in his brother’s voice. Edgar had something unpleasant to share.
“Can’t it wait until after the briefing?” Sabin asked.
“It’ll just be a moment. Terra, could you tell everyone in the meeting room that the Figaro boys are having a quick chat?”
She looked to Sabin, picking up on his reticence but not knowing how to help. “Sure,” she said, offering an apologetic frown. He nodded for her to go. Edgar watched as she walked down the hallway to joined the rest of the Returners.
“Out with it,” Sabin said. His patience seemed particularly short this morning.
“It’s about the battle plan. I’ve been talking with Banon, Sir Garamonde, and General Chere. There’s a great deal of military experience and skill at our disposal here, and it’s best we defer to them on tactical and strategic matters. You agree, of course?”
“Yes,” Sabin replied, waiting for it.
“They’ve worked out the details of formations and positions. We’ll meet the enemy in the rocky hills beneath the summit. Their numbers will work to their disadvantage, and we can hold the passes with just two teams.”
“Go on…”
“You and Terra … you’re deploying to separate teams.”
Sabin glared back. “You’re expecting me to fight without her by my side?”
“That’s the thing - it's not a fight. It’s a battle. I’ve also been training in this last decade. A king must know the ways of war. You know all there is to know about fighting, but what do you know of formations? Drills? Maneuvers? Signals? Fights are won by skill and strength. Battles are won by strategy and discipline.”
Sabin raised his voice, “What does this have to do with me and Terra?”
Edgar sighed. “Do you remember Lord Commander Lazarro? He used to say that a battle is lost the moment someone chooses passion over discipline.”
“Just fucking say it,” Sabin sneered.
“The two of you mean more to each other than anything else,” Edgar replied, keeping his cool. “And that includes this mission, maybe even this war. If you had to choose in the blink of an eye - lose Terra or lose the battle - which would you pick? How could you live with either choice?”
Sabin looked back to his brother with the frustrated expression of a man who knows he can’t win this argument.
“And that’s why we can’t have you in a position to make that choice. You’ll fight alongside Cyan and Gau. The three of you can hold off the advance of their infantry and beasts. Listen to Cyan’s orders, ok? You couldn’t ask for a better leader in your position. And make sure you take care of that kid, too. He shouldn’t be on a battlefield, but we can’t really stop him.”
“What about Terra?”
“Terra will join Celes and Locke, and me. We’ll break through the magitek armor line and defeat Kefka. Without their commander, the imperials will break.”
Sabin nearly yelled, “The mechs and Kefka?!”
Edgar continued, “Celes is our secret weapon. She has abilities that can neutralize their magic power.”
Sabin shook his head and turned away. He couldn’t refute his brother’s points, but he couldn’t imagine Terra fighting this battle without him. He needed to be there - not necessarily to keep her safe, but to know she’s safe.
“Don't worry, I’ll be there to look after her for you," Edgar tried to reassure his brother.
"She’s too strong to protect, Roni. You can't do it, and neither can I." Sabin couldn't explain what was happening to Terra. Even if he truly understood, it wasn't his place to say. She swore him to silence; she didn't want her comrades to worry for her or to keep her out of this critical battle. Terra knew she was needed, and nothing else mattered. And now she was the linchpin of a plan that could stretch her powers beyond her tenuous control. What if she loses herself before the end? What would happen to her? What would happen to all of them?
"Have faith, Rene. We're all in this together, remember?” Edgar put his hand on his brother’s shoulder, but this did not soothe him. As Sabin walked away, he added, “I need you to tell her. It would be best coming from you, as this did from me.”
He stopped mid-step and noticeably suppressed an outburst of anger. His arms tensed to keep his fists still and his shoulders heaved with deep breathing. He spoke in a grave tone, “You wear that crown with too much ease, brother. You don’t realize when you ask too much.”
******
The words echoed in his head. He asked with a broken voice, “Be careful, ok?” She nodded, tears welling in her eyes.
“Sabin!” Cyan shouted, pulling him back to the present. "Withdraw!”
He looked up and saw the approaching forces - a pack of attack dogs and a squad of armored infantry. Cyan waved him over to the rocky outcropping, their next point of defense. Gau peeked over with nervous eyes - nervous for Sabin’s sake, not his own. Sabin scrambled back to join them, meeting a fresh admonishment from Cyan.
“Focus!” he said sternly.
Before Sabin could respond, Gau hissed at the oncoming beasts. He readied himself with a pouncing position. Cyan spun in a deadly arc, dispatching the first armored bulldog to round the corner. Sabin and Gau indulged their brawling nature and met the rest of the pack, exceeding the brutal strength of the canine soldiers. The armored infantry watched with shock as their attack dogs fell one by one to inhuman savagery, and they quickly fell back to safety rather than engage such powerful foes. Cyan watched them reconsider their approach, and called Sabin and Gau back to cover.
“Gau, go watch that side. Shout if you see them coming.”
The boy nodded. While he struggled to understand most others, he seemed to follow Cyan perfectly. "REEE-DEEE-PLOY!!" he shouted, enjoying the new words he learned for this battle.
Cyan turned to Sabin. He spoke in a firm yet understanding tone, “Whatever happens with Terra is out of your hands. I need you here with me.”
“It’s not so simple,” Sabin explained.
“I never said it was. But caring for her now means winning the battle. Put her out of your mind and focus on our mission.”
Sabin nodded. Cyan returned the nod and peeked towards the enemy again. There was no movement across the other side. “I suspect they plan to reposition,” Cyan explained.
Sabin responded, “You should join up with Gau. I’ll watch and call out if they advance here.”
“Very well. Do not fall to any distractions.” The elder knight ran off to meet with the feral child.
Sabin carefully watched for the enemy, taking short peeks from different vantage points. Nothing, not even an imperial peeking out from the other side. These seconds of vigilance dragged out to feel like hours. With a lull in the fighting, he couldn't help but think back to what may have been their last moment together.
He looked in her eyes before they parted. The color still flickered ever so slightly; he wouldn't notice without knowing to look for it. How could someone seem so powerful and vulnerable at once? "In case something happens out there - just know," he said, "I love you."
She paused, her lips quivering. "I… love you too," she replied, embracing him. They knew to share nothing more than a kiss. If these were indeed their last words together, at least they chose the right ones.
A desperate scream woke Sabin from his daydream. He cursed himself for being distracted yet again. Then he realized what he heard: a woman's scream, coming from the enemy line. Not just any woman's scream…
"Terra?!" he shouted, emerging from cover. He saw nothing but snow and rock, just as before, but he heard the scream again. It was definitely her. Panic shot through him as he heard her pain and fear. Visions of her face wracked with agony tore into his heart. He darted forward, disregarding the intricacies of battle. Cyan shouted from across the field, but Sabin didn’t listen. She needed him, and nothing else mattered.
He crossed the no-man’s-land between the battle lines, reaching the rocky outcroppings that could conceal any number of threats. He peeked across corners, but found nothing waiting for him. Sparing nothing more than quick glances, he followed the sounds of her pain. It wasn’t screaming anymore, but rather a tortured groan that hurt all the more to hear. She must be close.
Then he paused. None of this was right. Where were the imperials? Why was Terra here? Where was everyone else? Sabin scanned around him, hoping to find anything to explain what was happening. There was nothing here except the pure white of snow, the jagged gray of rock, the pained cries of the woman he loved… and the cruel laughter of a sadistic clown.
“Kefka,” Sabin muttered, his breath heavy with rage.
He sprang forward, finding the son-of-a-bitch around the next corner. Kefka trapped Terra under an arcane storm - arcs of lightning shot from his outstretched hands and caged her with excruciating power.
“Sabin!” she cried, and he responded.
He tackled Kefka with a violent lunge, breaking the electric bonds. As they crashed into the ground, Sabin brutally twisted the maniac’s arm to make it match his soul. The appendage gave him no resistance, bending and turning as if filled with nothing but air. Sabin expected the sounds of snapping bone, but instead he got the comical squeak of inflated rubber running against itself.
He looked up to Terra as the illusion faded - her face dissolving into a smooth rosy surface. The details of her image disappeared and all that remained was a long red balloon with four rosy-fleshed appendages and a head marked with a frowny face. The decoy took flight as the pressure escaped its body, twirling into the air with a rude noise. Sabin’s face sank with horror as he realized how gravely he erred. Before he could get up, the inflated Kefka burst, saturating him with noxious fumes and sinister toxins.
He rolled away and struggled for breath. His hands clutched his throat and refused any conscious effort not to. His chest heaved with desperation, but his lungs still burned for air. Paralysis consumed each of his limbs, reducing him to agonized helplessness.
The laughter returned. Kefka - in the flesh - stood over Sabin and glared down with a smile wider than his face.
“Did you hear the one about the fool that went fishing and caught the idiot? Pretty funny, right?!”
The laughter sounded more and more distant, even though Kefka’s gloating face lowered directly over Sabin’s. Light and sound echoed inside his skull; his awareness receded into nothingness. Everything slowly went black - or white, it was hard to tell - as he slipped from this world into the next.
******
Sabin’s breath returned to him as a complete shock. He gasped as he bolted upright, taking in warm fresh air with indescribable relief. His senses returned, revealing a bright blue sky - not the cold gray of Narshe. His fingers ran through vibrant green grass, not harsh, thick snow. The wind felt soothing against his face. He knew this environment more intimately than any other.
Of course his paradise would be Mount Kolts. No place in this world meant more to him. Nature itself welcomed him to a simple remote life, giving him a freedom he could never know in a harsh desert castle with the finest riches known to man.
Sabin rose to his feet. The fear and the agony from mere moments ago were gone. What remained was peace… but not contentment. He had failed, and utterly so. He let down his friends, his comrades, his brother, and Terra most of all. What would happen without someone who understood her?
As he did whenever he had questions he couldn’t answer, Sabin went to his master. He always knew where to find the old man. On a pleasant day like this, he'd be sitting on the porch of his cabin, sipping his favorite tea and indulging a casual smoke from his pipe.
Master Duncan did not seem surprised to see his favorite pupil. "Sabin, my boy, what brings you to me? Surely you have more important things to do than visit an old, lonely man."
"I don't think this is a visit, master," he started. "I think I'm here to stay."
Master Duncan looked him over sternly. The old man always saw right through Sabin - not that he made any attempts to hide his thoughts or feelings, but he often lacked the insight to understand his own mind. The master must have seen something very grave indeed. “You should have a seat. I think it might be time you started calling me Duncan.”
“What do you mean?” Sabin asked, worried for his master.
“I’m not anybody’s master anymore, least of all yours.”
“That’s not true!” Sabin replied. “You always have my respect and faith. I still have so much to learn!”
“Then you choose to live in my shadow. Say what you will of Vargas; at least he tried to reach his full potential!”
Sabin was taken aback. “But… his ambition was your undoing! And his own! He tore the school apart because he spurned your wisdom!”
“You’re not thinking, Sabin. It’s well past time you view me with a critical eye. Vargas was my pupil and my son. His misdeeds are a product of my failure as a teacher and a father. Maybe I tried too hard to forge him into the greatest martial artist the world has ever seen. He exceeded my abilities too young. In my excitement to make him strong I forgot to teach him humility, and it was too late once I tried.”
Sabin remembered the last time he saw Vargas. Standing above his rival’s broken body, his mind stewing with dark thoughts of justice, vengeance, and blood - he considered how it all happened in the first place. He saw in Vargas a boy who lost his father, and suddenly he understood the anger. Duncan chose to be a teacher rather than a father, and Vargas resented him for it. Even worse, he treated Sabin as more of a son than his own. How could Vargas not be furious with his father, and with Sabin, too?
In that moment, Sabin could not return the rage in Vargas’s eyes. His bitter fury demanded death; he could not live with the shame of what he’d done. Sabin refused him - maybe more as punishment than mercy. “I understand Vargas better than you may think. With any luck I managed to teach him humility. But I would rather be angry with him than disappointed in you, Master.”
“Don’t call me that,” he replied. “And you dishonor my teachings by ignoring my faults. What did I tell you about truth?”
“Truth is rarely difficult to find,” Sabin recited. “It is often difficult to accept.” He sighed.
“It’s time for you to move on, my boy. But what do you say to one last lesson, for old time’s sake?” The old man offered a friendly grin as he stood up from his chair and motioned towards the cabin door. Sabin smiled. He hadn’t realized how much he missed Master Duncan. He loved the idea of one last moment as a teacher and a pupil.
A rich scent of dust, dirt, and plantlife wafted from the open door of the cabin. Sabin recognized the complex smells of the old man’s butterfly garden. A momentary storm of fluttering wings ran through the cabin, forming and dispersing so quickly Sabin barely understood what he saw. Duncan walked calmly through the chaos, somehow undisturbed by the butterflies and not disturbing them in return. He motioned for Sabin to join him inside, gesturing towards a cluster of plants as he spoke.
“These are the most fascinating creatures in the world,” he began admiring a butterfly perched on his finger, “but they don’t start their lives this way. They emerge from their eggs and start the simple, monotonous process of devouring enough nutrition to grow and progress to the next step of their lifecycle. Our own lives tend to change slowly. We try our best not to change at all. These creatures have no such choice, and the transformations are so sudden and traumatizing it’s easy to understand why we work so hard to stay the same.”
Duncan pored over his plants, finding the ideal specimen for this lesson. “Here!” he said, pointing to a particularly plump caterpillar dangling from a twig. “It’s already anchored itself. Come close, take a look. Remember, this is a living creature; try to imagine what it feels.”
Sabin wore the persona of a pupil better than his own clothes. He studiously watched the creature, opening his mind to its experience. The caterpillar hung upside-down and started convulsing downward. Sections of body visible beneath its skin pushed towards its head, as if gathering itself. This became more evident as the thin carapace split and the rest of the body slowly extruded from the rupture. The convulsions increased, and the body flailed to and fro. It seemed like a strategy to force more of itself through the growing rupture of the carapace, but the desperately flailing antenna could only be understood as agony.
The process continued - too quickly to look away, too slowly to see the end coming. The carapace gathered around the hind section, seeming more like discarded clothes than the creature’s own flesh. The body that just moments ago was the interior of a caterpillar formed the structure of a chrysalis. It took a new shape, still writhing desperately to free itself from the remains of its previous form. Finally, it shook the carapace loose. A stationary organic structure sat where there had once been a caterpillar in its seeming death throes.
“What did you learn?” Duncan asked, humoring Sabin with the voice of a master.
“That was… terrifying.” Sabin replied.
“Do you think that’s what the caterpillar wanted?”
“Of course not.”
“What would you do if you felt yourself changing like that?”
Sabin remembered the last time he felt so trapped, like some living nightmare closed in from every side. Nearly a decade later, he still recalled every sight, sound, and feeling like it could be happening now. His own life was changing so drastically - the kingdom that supported his days as a happy young prince now demanded a king. The responsibilities that accompanied his privilege weighed on him, and he found he could accept neither. He couldn’t command his countrymen into hardship or sacrifice. He couldn’t stand in judgement of other human beings. He couldn’t enjoy the comforts of wealth knowing it came from the poor. The night he left, he stood in front of his mirror and donned the crown. He expected to see Edgar staring back at him, but he only saw a vision of the man he refused to be.
“I’d do anything to escape it,” Sabin replied.
“But the caterpillar could not escape,” Duncan spoke solemnly, “because this was not a culmination of its choices. This was its very nature. Nothing could stop it from this path, from the horrifying and painful experience of being one thing - and then another thing entirely.”
The master motioned to another chrysalis which started shaking as he spoke. The bright colors of the wings seeped through the thin casing - the chrysalis no longer contained a mystery. The butterfly within slowly - and more calmly - emerged from the casing. Its newborn wings could not fly; it clung to the empty shell to keep from falling. It began to unfurl its wings, like a sail taking shape against a fresh wind. The delicate structures fell into place, and before long the thin, flat, colorful wings shook and took flight. Sabin extended his hand and the creature landed on his palm. He carefully brought it before his eyes and examined it wistfully.
“Is there anything left of the caterpillar in the butterfly?” Sabin asked.
“Who’s to say?” Duncan replied. “I can tell you that the caterpillar does not grow into the butterfly. The chrysalis destroys it and builds a butterfly from the remains. But this does not mean the resulting creature has no connection to the previous one. It only means the process is both destructive and creative.”
Sabin nodded. The object of this lesson did not escape him. “Change feels like death,” he muttered.
Duncan agreed. “This is why we avoid it at all costs - until we are ready to lose the piece of ourselves that changes.”
Sabin blew gently on the butterfly in his palm and it disintegrated into motes of colorful dust that fell away into nothingness. This surprised neither of them. He looked to his mentor and asked a pointed question. “Why would you teach me this now?”
“What do you mean?” Duncan asked.
“I mean what good is it to me now?” he demanded, raising his voice. “I should be with her as she faces her own change! Maybe I can lend her some comfort or some courage. Maybe having someone who loves her can ease the process. Maybe there’s nothing I can do but watch as she burns away into whatever she’s going to become. But I should be there anyway!” He ran himself out of anger and passion and spoke his more sullen thoughts. “Instead I’m stuck here in this false paradise ... knowing that even if she makes it through this battle, she’s confronting her terrifying fate alone.”
“Entirely possible,” Duncan replied. "What makes you think you're stuck here?"
Sabin looked puzzled. "Master… you're dead. If I'm talking to you now…"
Duncan chortled in response. "Am I now? You're sure about that? Never count me out, lad - not until you know for sure. And you shouldn't count yourself out, either."
"But…" Sabin continued. His last memory still played out in his mind. Gasping for air he couldn't breathe, struggling in agony without moving, watching Kefka laugh at his demise. "There's no way I survived that…"
"You think so? Don't you have just a single ray of hope?"