The Exiled Soul -I-

What dreams I've had of late, and yet not a single nightmare. There wasn't any reason tonight would be different than the hundreds previous. The God I once knew had abandoned me. Tossed aside like a plaything that  was no longer amusing. The night sky in the hills this time of year was  actually very pretty, but there was no solace in it. I had once drew  power from the God of Nightmares, but the haze of such a time was fading as it it were only a Nightmare.

Often I'd think about how easily we'd been swept aside in the end. The armies of Vector were strong enough to force a foothold and scare the  Tripower into submission for years. Even with Kefka dead, they were perhaps  now even more dangerous. Might is right. There's no denying it. The events  of the last 10 years had hardened my heart. Not that I was weak before,  I'd delighted in being the Nightmare of Magic, the Exile, the bringer  of death. But there was nothing left to persue along those lives. The  person who had championed the night may as well be dead. Even my own  magical aura seemed to pulse with energy that was not of the Gods.

There was no more sleep left for tonight and I stood up from my small camp and began packing my things. I thought how strange it was that I should wait all this time before making this journey. It seemed unbelieveable that the old "hell hath no fury" line didn't quite apply. There were reasons far beyond the obvious for finding her place again. Perhaps, there were those who would take her in. It could just be that she would wind up the Exile once more. Searching for meaning in life.

But then again...

Perhaps, It was time to find some old "friends"...