The old man grunted behind Cid. "Took you long enough."
"I was blind," Cid said flatly.
"You still are."
"Well, now i'm blind with flair."
Cid could now see... feel the forest, birds, branches, quiet pulse of life. Power Sense didn't give him sight, exactly. It gave him pressure, heat, flow, shape.
Three years on the mountain had turned him into something else.
The old man never said what.
Training had been brutal lifting heavy rocks half his size, meditating until he faints, learning to listen to animals heartbeat from 30 feet away.
But he learned.
He hunted animals, punched trees. Probably hallucinated once and yelled at a thundercloud. The old man said nothing when he cried, bled or screamed.
He only said one thing over and over.
"You want to see? Then feel."
And now he did.
That night, the wind changed.
Cid stood at the edge of a cliff. He was thinking about a dream he had.
The old man joined him.
"I had a weird dream. The moon cracked and lost it's light. It looked dead."
The old man man paused. Then.
"Go back to the city. Not tomorrow. Now."
Cid took his worn out coat and headed down the mountain.
Too much noise. The slums stank of rot and memory.
He walked down the alleys like a ghost. Nobody recognised him.He was taller now, and carried a presence.
He reached Marla's shack by dawn.
"I don't feel Marla, is she not at home?" he thought. "Where could she have gone?"
He opened the door.
Pause.
Marla lay by the firepit.
Blood had dried into the floor. Her arm was outstretched, still clutching a carving knife. Her face was still... mouth slightly open like she had one last insult and no time to say it.
The shack was torn apart. Signs of a fight. Someone had come fast and full of purpose.
Cid dropped to his knees beside her.
"...Marla..."
She always joked she would haunt him if he didn't stop stealing her fish guts. Now she wouldn't say anything at all.
He reached for her hand, but stopped. It was cold. He couldn't feel her. She was gone.
He cleaned what he could and folded a blanket over her. He just took the knife to wash it. Then.
He froze.
He was about to cry but he didn't get the chance.
Boots thundered outside. Voices barked.
"Inside! He's in there!"
Cid's head snapped toward the door. Half a dozen men with pistols rushed in, led by a man with a huge black sword on his back.
"Drop, the knife. now!"
Cid looked down.
He was holding it.
"I didn't..."
"You're coming with us by royal order."
They didn't listen, they didn't ask. And he didn't fight back, he was still in shock about Marla's death. They grabbed him like he was an animal, slammed him to the ground, bound his wrists in chains that tingled.
The man with the black sword threatened.
"What did you do to her street rat?"
"Was she your mother?"
Cid didn't speak.
His senses flared. He could feel their fear, their hatred. Their orders.
This wasn't justice.
It was cleanup.
On the way to the palace, Cid sat chained in the back of a cold, iron carriage, surrounded by guards.
The city passed outside the bars. And on their way to the nobles city. The palace.
He'd been thrown out of that palace as a baby.
Now they were bringing him back in chains.
"They killed the only person who loved me in this damned world."
"Forgiveness, forgive...," Cid was breaking down. "I WON'T FORGIVE!"
The man with the black sword sensed the enraged Power within him. And quickly cuffed him with a Power-restraining cuff.
But Cid still looked into the eyes of the man with a cold gaze.
The palace smelled like flowers and blood.
Two guards shoved him forward. One was nervous and the other one just wanted to hit something.
They dumped him into a white room. One chair, one table.
Cid sat. Waited.
"Forgive, FoR..." he was lost.
Footsteps echoed. The door opened.
A man in gold-trimmed robes stepped in, face clean-shaven. A few soldiers stood behind him with pistols.
The man sat across him.
"I am Yami," he said. "You're?"
Cid said nothing.
The man sighed. "You were found at the scene, alone with a weapon. Standing over the body."
Still silence.
Then a chuckle.
"You have fire," the man said. "Just like your mother."
Cid froze.
"...what did you say?"
"Don't play dumb, boy. You think we don't know who you are?"
"First your mother, then you. Born blind. Reeking of Power. It's no wonder she tried to hide you in the gutters."
Cid's fists clenched. The cuffs sparked.
"He thinks Marla is my mother," Cid thought.
"You'll be executed tomorrow for murder by flaying." the man grinned.
"Try not to shout."
The guards took Cid and threw him in a cell.
Chains bit into his wrists. His knees hit stone.
Outside the bars, the nobles whispered.
Inside, Cid sat in silence.
"Flaying," he muttered, staring into the dark.
"You're gonna flay me?" He smiled.
"I will make sure to take you with me."