[Pyro]

VII. Present & Future

The curtain call has drawn upon the Company, and so the stage has been pulled out from its members. Over a hundred varied Homunculi have been scattered to the wind without form nor function because secrets have been laid low. And in some ways, I feel pity for them. In others, not an ounce. I feel no sorrow nor sadness for the siblings who saw fit to toss me into this world when I was naught but weeks old. An overwhelming anger and hatred exist within my heart; a desire to see revenge carried out upon them and their ruin brought forth. I would draw forth a hundred curses to carve upon their very bodies for those that abandoned me so. I feel nothing for them because if I were to offer them my love and compassion I would be abandoned once more. And I cannot accept being left by another. My heart has grown calloused and jaded and my feelings harsh and vengeful. 

It would be so easy to care for them. It takes great energy and mental fortitude to hate them so. To desire failure and downfall for those I once called my siblings, to continue to writhe in that which brings forth the most sickly of feelings. It is challenging because there is something within me that wants them to live long and fulfilling lives, but it is not those feelings that drive my blade or fuel my hexes. It is hate. It is sorrow. It is malice and malevolence which makes me strong. To purge the weakness from body and soul I must continue to harden my heart. No more will I be abandoned by those I hold close to me. No more will I feel the harsh sting of a partner without love. No more will I show mercy to those who would see fit to deliver me unto hardship. Those who would run and hide and cower like Ignis.

I have realized that this power is not my father's. My true father's, either. The power which I bask in is mine and mine alone, that which I have torn from this world and taken to better myself. Humiliation. Cowardice. Fear. No longer will I be tormented by these feelings when I realize that it is the spirit of the self that drives you, which is why I grow increasingly perturbed and judgemental of those adventurers and their obsession with the Ten of Greilland. Their continued revelry and worship of these dead or possessed figures will spell their downfall and I will watch those who placed their trust in higher powers falter for their own failure.

When we engaged the enemy upon their step at the throat of the mines and the Redtail, Tai, wanted to dance around and avoid the idea of destroying the mineshaft to prevent further spread of the Stagnant through that focal point. And it is this sort of overly optimistic hope that will bring ruin to those working to deliver Greilland from its strife. We fought and we bled and we continued to fight because there was no longer choice for us in this direst of situations, because the Stagnant continued to pour forth from this wound upon the earth. And we continued to bleed time after time again, strength burgeoning from the miasma of emotion that brings forth both weakness and strength in droves. I heard cries of those who had long died in my ears and those of my allies shouting For Greilland and a sour sensation filled my stomach. An utter sickness at the uncanny naivety, even as daunting and otherworldly power filled our souls. It would not, and will not be these blessings that bring both us and Greilland itself from ruins. They are unreliable; they are occasional and to pray for their return time and time again would force one to become reliant and pitiful. Weak and gullible.

I watched Connor's fire burn and blaze even hotter and even higher; brighter and brighter. The guiding star. Something outdoing my strength and power, driving onwards into the horde without care nor caution. Shrugging off blow after blow and exploding with flaming might because he felt some sort of hope in him. Some sort of acknowledgment that there were things greater that aided him. And it made my blood boil because I could not understand these feelings as they made him stronger and stronger, seething rage and jealousy developing within me. Even as Arden the First appeared, the tides of illness poured off me in spades and withered grass. Even as he drew his sword I continued to fight and fight and fight to prove my point; that we should not rely upon these chance happenings, and even Arden confirmed my own dogma. It is only us who can decide who we are, and it is through that resolution that we grow stronger and powerful. And it is the only way we will overcome what stands in our way.

We cannot become dependent upon these miracles; it is only through the resolute soul that one can achieve victory.