Chapter 2: Homecoming --------------------- Shirak hovered above the cave she had just exited, thousands of feet above the ground. Her strong, leathery wings held her up on a current of warm air as she attempted to ascertain her position. Hmmm... There was Zozo, if she wasn't mistaken, and Jidoor to the south. That meant that home, her precious Tower, lay east. She turned and looked out over the ocean before her, her long tail swaying behind her. It would be a long journey to rejoin her fellow Faithful Ones, but then she would finally be able to take up her cause again. Shirak did not know exactly how long she had been slumbering, but she had a feeling that it had been far too long. She glanced once more at the towns below her, and toyed for a moment with the idea of destroying them. The fires would burn so brightly; a warning to all those who would stand in the way of the Will of Kefka... But no. Her brothers and sisters needed her; needed her strength... Shirak Rokal flexed her wings, and set out across the sea. As she flew, she had time to contemplate her situation. What she wondered at the most was why she was alive at all. Surely, with all those spells that Returner brat Celes had thrown at her, she should be nothing but a heap of ashes... unless...? Perhaps the spells the little witch had cast had been too powerful for her magic source, whatever it was, to support... That *would* explain why the unfocused Merton spell had not harmed its caster... 'I was only stunned...' thought Rokal, amazed. An evil and extremely disquieting grin spread across her scaly mouth. Celes would pay dearly for that misjudgement, if she ever met her again. Next time, she would protect herself against the brat's magic, however strong or weak it might be... Shirak looked out over the horizon. The sun was just setting, giving the sky and the sea a blood red color. Shirak smiled again, revealing long black fangs. It was an omen, a sign from Kefka... The seas would soon run red with the blood of his foes! She shrieked with glee at the thought of it, causing a nearby flock of geese to veer severely off course. Soon, the sun disappeared completely, and the huge dragon showed up only as a black silhouette blotting out the starscape behind it. It would not be long now. She was finally back over dry land, after two days of flying non stop, and the town of Tzen had just disappeared behind her. The Tower, that glorious monument to the wonder of Kefka, was only another day's travel northwards... * * * * * Erwillian Korell stood at the top of the Fanatics' Tower, gazing out at the stars. Astrology was sort of a hobby of his; he loved discovering new constellations and such. Why, just the other day, he'd spotted a cluster of stars that he swore up and down looked just like Kefka. That putz Lucas insisted it looked more like a ladle, but what did he know? Erwillian returned his gaze to the heavens. One of these nights,' he thought to himself, one of these nights, it won't be a constellation I see, but Kefka himself, returning to his faithful followers....' He smiled. Then, he noticed something was very wrong with the starscape in front of him. Some of the stars were missing! Wait....No, not missing, but blotted out by a great dark shape. It seemed to be alive, twisting and writhing in the shadow. He could hear an odd sound coming from its direction, as if of gigantic wings beating the air. His heart began to beat faster. What was it? A monster? A machine of the Evil returners', come to destroy them? Or was it...the Second Coming of Kefka? Korell gasped. "Everyone!" he yelled, at the top of his lungs, "Come quickly! NOW!" It wasn't long before he heard the rustle of cloth from the stairwell, and the entire Cult of Kefka poured out onto the roof. "What is it?" asked Katrina, a young cultist. "I...I...I don't know," stammered Erwillian. "Take a look out there." They did. A murmur of anxiety rippled through the crowd. They watched with wide eyes as the dark shape drew nearer and nearer, until finally they could make out exactly what they were faced with. "It's... a dragon!" exclaimed Katrina. And so it was; a huge two-headed black one in fact , headed straight towards them on its huge leathery wings. But strangely enough, it didn't seem all that intent on destroying the Tower, or consuming its inhabitants. It just flew slowly and steadily closer, until it was directly overhead. Then, it began to descend. The cultists scattered every which way to make room for the beast. "Perhaps it is a messenger of our Lord!" cried out Erwillian, as he scrambled to get out of the creature's way. The dragon landed gently on the roof, as if it were being careful not to damage anything. It barely made a sound when it touched down, except for the clicking of its wicked looking claws. Then, as the cultists watched, the creature began to draw in on itself. It seemed to shrink, and its wings were sucked into its body. The heads joined into one, and were drawn closer to the body. The claws retracted, and the dragon's scaled melded, and then lightened...until they were the color of flesh. When the transformation was completed, before them stood... "Priestess Rokal!" Katrina exclaimed. "What..." Shirak smiled slowly. "Kefka has seen fit to grant me not only me life, but this splendid gift as well," she said. "Now, I have returned to take care of his flock, and to do his work. How goes the construction of the weapon we were to build?" Korell shuffled his feet. Katrina looked at the ground. All the other cultists simultaneously became enthralled with paving stones. "What is it?" asked the priestess, beginning to suspect something had gone awry. "Well," began Erwillian, "Um, that is... we, er haven't done much of anything with it, actually..." "What?!" exclaimed Rokal, "What do you mean, you haven't done anything?" "Well, you see, ah," he stammered, trying to find the right words, "after you... left, people kind of forgot about us, and our storyline pretty much died." "What? Us, forgotten?" shrieked Rokal, waving her hands about like a madwoman (which, in fact, she *was*, if you can believe that). "We must remedy that at once! Restart the project immediately! You have neglected your Lord's work for too long!" At this criticism, the cultists looked down in shame, wishing they had as much energy and zeal as their priestess, who was continuing to rant. "We shall be the fist of Kefka!" she screamed. "We shall be ignored no longer!"