TM 136: Death Makes Us Stronger
Spira has an odd way of dealing with life and death. When someone dies, his soul is detached from his former being and it wanders: lost and searching for reason. As a Sending is performed, the soul is comforted and guided to its resting place in the Farplane.
Without a Sending, the soul becomes angry or maddened by its abandonment. It seeks its own path to the Farplane: a tormented journey that contorts souls into demons and fiends, aggressive and hating. I have seen these perverse creatures, attacked and eliminated them; they seek to harm those who had failed them in life, and the blood of any summoner will do.
There are some, however, who remain attached to some shred of their previous life. To these individuals, death is merely a stepping stone to becoming stronger and more powerful. The Maesters of Spira have abused this loophole of reality to secure their control over the masses. Assassination attempts make headlines, but ever-present leaders make dynasties.
Even I...
I risked my life and limbs in every battle in order to protect my summoner. On countless occasions I held on to life by a thread, especially when Jecht decided to do things his way: loud and impromptu. A piece of me died each time I faced Death, but whether or not it made me stronger, I cannot tell.
Heh. Braska used to tease: 'A warrior's hard-heart and stern face will not attract a wife.'
I would like to claim that my life flashed before my eyes or that there was a bright light and heavenly choir when I died, but there was nothing. My blood stilled, my existence fragmented and the snow became a peaceful blanket of silence.
My mind swarmed with uncollected thoughts: the children, the injustice, the future. I had a promise to keep, a mentor to avenge and a truth that had to be uncovered. I stood and collected my sword. I imagine the steel was cold, but I was already too detached to notice.
My life may have ended, but my death made me stronger. I was free to wander throughout time and space, unburdened by the restrictions of a mortal coil. I can't say I'd ever experienced anything similar in living.
Muse: Sir Auron
Fandom: Final Fantasy X
Words: 374
Without a Sending, the soul becomes angry or maddened by its abandonment. It seeks its own path to the Farplane: a tormented journey that contorts souls into demons and fiends, aggressive and hating. I have seen these perverse creatures, attacked and eliminated them; they seek to harm those who had failed them in life, and the blood of any summoner will do.
There are some, however, who remain attached to some shred of their previous life. To these individuals, death is merely a stepping stone to becoming stronger and more powerful. The Maesters of Spira have abused this loophole of reality to secure their control over the masses. Assassination attempts make headlines, but ever-present leaders make dynasties.
Even I...
I risked my life and limbs in every battle in order to protect my summoner. On countless occasions I held on to life by a thread, especially when Jecht decided to do things his way: loud and impromptu. A piece of me died each time I faced Death, but whether or not it made me stronger, I cannot tell.
Heh. Braska used to tease: 'A warrior's hard-heart and stern face will not attract a wife.'
I would like to claim that my life flashed before my eyes or that there was a bright light and heavenly choir when I died, but there was nothing. My blood stilled, my existence fragmented and the snow became a peaceful blanket of silence.
My mind swarmed with uncollected thoughts: the children, the injustice, the future. I had a promise to keep, a mentor to avenge and a truth that had to be uncovered. I stood and collected my sword. I imagine the steel was cold, but I was already too detached to notice.
My life may have ended, but my death made me stronger. I was free to wander throughout time and space, unburdened by the restrictions of a mortal coil. I can't say I'd ever experienced anything similar in living.
Muse: Sir Auron
Fandom: Final Fantasy X
Words: 374