Fifth morning: a thin, silver mist envelops the large stones at the foot of the hill, creating an illusion of another world that captivates the senses. The sky gently transitions from bright blue to soothing shades of purple, still not fully illuminated, but the golden light tenderly spreads, painting the horizon as if inviting thousands of stars to awaken from their slumber. Before them stands the Great Gate, majestic and mysterious, softly glowing under the warm morning light.
The brass gate, fifty millimeters thick, towers high, resembling a giant jaw locked in silence for thousands of years. Meticulously carved, the depiction of the Tree of Life showcases its branches spiraling in every direction, creating an illusion of graceful arms reaching for the sky. In every crack, thousands of ancient glyphs sparkle, as if whispering secrets to anyone brave enough to approach.
Fitran and Rinoa stand in deep silence, surrounded by an almost tangible magical aura, as if time slows around them. They are not in a hurry—not due to doubt—but because they sense the profound awareness of what lies beyond this gate: not merely a passage to Gamma, but a living reminder of all that the world has forgotten—an oblivion embedded in the faded fragments of history.
"This gate will not open for just any magic," Rinoa spoke softly, her voice calm and gentle as she touched one of the softly glowing glyphs, the light dancing around her fingers like a warm embrace. "It asks for something not from your hands, but from your very being."
Fitran gazed deeply into the carvings that seemed to move, radiating ancient wisdom. In a steady tone, he replied, "It demands the truth."
Rinoa nodded, her eyes sparkling in the silence, filled with meaning—as if summarizing the thousands of secrets held in the depths of their hearts.
At that moment, Fitran stepped forward, his stride filled with confidence and courage, as if challenging the darkness that loomed over them.
His hand was raised, holding neither a gleaming sword nor weaving elemental spells in the air. Even without tools, only driven by a burning desire, he emanated a sacred aura that enveloped the surroundings.
Yet, from the depths of his soul—deeper than memory or wounds—he called upon the Voidwright, a summons that pulsed slowly, as if merging with the heartbeat of the earth, awakening the ancient power that lay dormant.
Passive Magic: Memoria Vector (Memory Vector)
(Voidwright Passive Art)
The Voidwright is not merely an art of destruction and void. At the pinnacle of its abilities, it transforms into a mirror of existence, reflecting every layer of reality with a clarity that can touch the soul. As a Voidwright who has entered into a contract with Beelzebub, Fitran is enveloped in mystical shadows, entering the realm of Overseer. Within those depths, he possesses passive magic that resonates in harmony with the universe's heartbeat—Memoria Vector, even if unconsciously activated.
Effect:
Memoria Vector comes into play when the void power within Fitran interacts with symbols, architecture, or elements of the ancient world filled with spiritual memories. Each contact causes Fitran's consciousness to recall memories that have been severed from his soul, like delicate threads magically woven back into the unseen tapestry of fate. In that moment, the world seems to vibrate before his eyes, every wall, pillar, and carving appearing to be reborn with a new life that radiates beauty previously hidden.
There was no spell or preparation; the event unfolded like the force of gravity—an inevitable law of nature inherent in the existence of a Voidwright, drawing every nearby soul into a dance beneath the dark and mysterious starry sky. The hidden voices resonated within, each vibration carrying a sweet melody of nostalgia that called forth memories long forgotten.
And the Great Gate—carved with thousands of Proto-Speech glyphs, shimmering invisibly like the gentle moonlight enveloping the night—became the perfect trigger to awaken the Memoria Vector. Each glyph possessed an aura, radiating in dynamic ethereal colors, as if holding eternal secrets from a time long forgotten.
"Arx Nihil: Aperire Memoria."
(The Gate of Emptiness: Open the Memory)
In an instant, the glyphs etched upon the surface of the Great Gate began to light up one by one, emitting a magnificent display of light, like a row of stars greeting the dawn. Black-gold light flowed gently from Fitran's palm, enveloping the ancient carvings and seeping into the spiritual mechanisms of the gate, creating a stunning harmony between physical reality and ethereal dimensions. Each touch seemed to awaken ancient resonance, celebrating the infinite passage of time.
The thunderous sound of ancient metal echoed—not merely the noise of a gate opening but the awakening of an ancient consciousness from its long slumber, carrying whispers from other dimensions. Its vibrations shook the entire realm surrounding it with a majestic flow of energy, as if the universe resonated in profound harmony.
However, as the Voidwright's magic penetrated the gate's core, it did not merely dismantle the physical seal. Dark energy intertwined with dim light, flowing like clear water dripping into a mysterious dark well. Gently, it unraveled everything stored within Fitran, like layers of earth being lifted by a fierce wind, revealing memories and emotions hidden in darkness's embrace.
Fitran's body jolted, his breath caught as if trapped in a vortex of time. His head felt bombarded by a thousand voices from undefined directions, spinning in the darkness that pursued him, pushing him back to the defining moments of his life. Memories surged all at once, wild and unordered:
The first time he learned magic from the formless entity named Harut, its shadow glided elegantly above an altar surrounded by shimmering starlight, defying the laws of nature with each charismatic movement.
When he buried his friends to contain Beelzebub's wrath, the ground around him appeared soaked with tears and blood, mingling in a sacrament of grief beneath the sorrowful moonlight, a silent witness to the sadness that enveloped the night.
When he kissed Rinoa beneath the majestic Ygrallis tree, its branches stretched wide, shielding them from the noisy outside world. Its sweet, fresh aroma enveloped them, as if time slowed and faded amidst the beauty of a moment filled with silk and wonder.
However, when he betrayed Iris, the bright morning sunlight seemed to drown in darkness, tainted by ominous clouds hanging above, symbolizing the collapse of trust that had been built, now shattered in an instant like shards of glass frozen in memory.
When he decided to burn the city to stop the rise of Sephiroth, flames soared high, painting the sky in hues of orange and black, creating a night engulfed in a sea of chaos and haunting destruction.
As he gazed at Rinoa's face, softly saying, "If you fall, I will stay," his smile radiated warmth, piercing through the coming darkness, wrapping her in an embrace akin to morning dew, defying sorrow with each drop of hope.
All those memories surged back, bringing with them everything that formed him as Fitran—both in the joy-bringing light and in the painful darkness—enveloping his soul all at once. Each layer of memory enveloped him like a gentle mystic fog, creating a magical atmosphere in the consciousness that slowly awakened again.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed in front of the towering Great Gate—a magnificent structure adorned with mystical carvings that shimmered faintly in the peculiar light. His eyes were vacant, as if trapped in the flow of time, his thoughts drifting far away. His hands trembled, not from fear, but from the sudden realization of who he truly was. Love, betrayal, and the latent strength within him rose, merging in a distillation of extraordinary experience, guiding him toward a greater purpose.
"Fitran!" Rinoa approached him with all her emotions, supporting him with gentle hands, her eyes sparkling like stars dancing in the night sky, gazing at his face now illuminated, entwined with soft light and deep shadows that reflected struggle and hope.
Fitran looked deep into her eyes, as if attempting to penetrate the ocean of her soul. And for the first time after navigating the dark, winding Labyrinth… he called her name, his voice resonant and filled with awareness, like an echo bouncing between the walls of time.
"Rinoa…" his voice cracked, feeling empty yet resonating deeply. "You're still here… even after I've lost everything that was precious."
Rinoa held him tightly, as if absorbing the warmth that remained within their souls, promising in their close embrace, "I promise, I will never leave."
Fitran closed his eyes, feeling the world swirl around him, memories rushing in like a relentless tide. "I remember everything. Even those things I wished I would never have to see again, every memory feels like a gaping wound, dancing at the edge of recollection."
Rinoa gently touched his face, her fingers curling at the corners of his eyes, as if hoping to erase the pain from Fitran's memory. "And I will continue to love you—even after you remember all the painful things," she said, her voice soft yet resolute.
A pale white light, neither magic nor fire, but the pure essence of an ancient world, flows from behind the gate like a glowing river piercing the darkness of night, creating a shimmering and captivating path. The road to something older than history widens, akin to the dawn's light breaking the night, vast and majestic like an infinite map that will never be fully understood.
However, Fitran did not step forward immediately, entranced by the breathtaking panorama laid out before him.
He gazed at Rinoa, a firebird gliding gracefully between them, before shifting his attention to the nearly hypnotic gate, sparkling like a gem in the light.
"I know what awaits us beyond could be far darker than anything we've faced so far. But now… I will not run again," he said with determination blazing in his chest.
Rinoa nodded, gripping his hand tightly, her light shining softly like a star, guiding their steps. "Because now, you are not alone," she said, her certainty radiating hope.
With synchronized steps, they walked towards the Great Gate—a magnificent archway glowing with translucent orange light. The gate seemed alive, showcasing intricate carvings that sparkled like stars, radiating ancient symbols that swayed gently, alive with energy. Each stroke narrated its own legend, inviting reflection before proceeding further. Behind the gate, the ground glittered like crystal, reflecting light in unimaginable hues, creating a scene akin to crossing into another world. The air around them vibrated, holding unspoken languages, as if inviting them to delve into the depths of unexplored mysteries. Before them, the shadow of the future awaited, hazy yet shimmering—a symbol of the interplay between hope and fear woven into the fabric of fate.