The memory of Cleyra's destruction still hung like smoke in Vivi's heart. Bahamut's roar, the sandstorm breaking apart, the sanctuary falling to ruin—it all replayed whenever he closed his glowing eyes. Even now, a day later, the images weighed on him, heavy and suffocating. He had never known a place so filled with peace, and never seen one destroyed so mercilessly.
His tiny hands clutched his staff tighter, the wood worn smooth where his fingers had dug in during their frantic escape. As if holding on might keep him from being swept away in despair.
Together with Zidane, Garnet, and Quina, he had escaped through Fossil Roo, stumbling through tunnels where echoes of falling rocks had chased them. For what felt like days, darkness pressed around them until finally—sunlight broke across their faces again. Now, perched high among mountains and desert ridges, the path wound to a strange sight: a village, carved right into the cliffs.
Conde Petie.
Stone houses dotted the rocky slopes like nests in a cliffside, and wooden bridges stretched precariously across gaps where the ground fell away into mist. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys. Laughter and shouting echoed from all directions. Dwarves bustled everywhere, carrying baskets of fruit, barrels of ale, and hammers that clanged with constant work.
But what caught the party off guard was the chorus.
"Rally-ho!" bellowed a dwarf struggling under the weight of a barrel twice his size.
"Rally-ho!" answered another, swinging a hammer at a crooked signpost.
The four stopped in their tracks, blinking in confusion.
"…Did they just say what I think they said?" Zidane muttered, scratching the back of his head.
Another dwarf marched past with a basket of apples, beaming. "Rally-ho!"
Quina's round eyes sparkled. "Sound like food cheer! Rally-ho mean 'Let's eat!'"
Garnet raised one elegant eyebrow, half-smiling despite herself. "I think it's simply their greeting."
Vivi swallowed hard. He felt eyes on him—friendly eyes, not cruel, but unfamiliar all the same. The words caught in his throat. His voice was always small, always uncertain. Yet he gathered his courage, tilted his hat slightly forward, and whispered, "Um… r-rally… ho?"
The nearest dwarf stopped mid-step, then broke into a wide grin. "Well met, traveler! Rally-ho to ye too!"
Vivi froze. The dwarf wasn't laughing at him. He wasn't angry. He was simply… happy.
Zidane slapped his forehead. "Wait, that's it? We just have to say it back?"
"Apparently," Garnet murmured, her lips twitching.
Zidane grinned and threw both hands in the air. "RALLY-HO!!"
The response was immediate. Half a dozen dwarves turned and echoed him cheerfully, "RALLY-HO!" Their voices filled the square like a festival cheer.
Garnet flushed bright red. She tugged at her sleeve and tried quietly, "R-Rally-ho."
The crowd erupted just as warmly: "Ah, rally-ho, lass!"
Quina puffed out their chest, took a massive gulp of air, and bellowed, "RAAALLYYYY-HOOOOOO!!"
The sound was so thunderous several dwarves stumbled, covering their ears. Someone muttered about "overzealous outlanders," but most broke into laughter, clapping Quina's back hard enough to make them stagger.
And Vivi—Vivi giggled. A tiny, breathy sound, but real. For the first time since Cleyra's fall, the heaviness in his chest lifted, if only for a moment.
---
The group wandered deeper into the village, crossing bridges and ducking beneath laundry lines strung between houses. Zidane bantered with Garnet over supplies, insisting they needed more potions while she insisted they had no gil to waste. Quina had already vanished into the crowd, nose twitching like a bloodhound for anything remotely edible.
Vivi lingered near a small shop tucked into the rock wall. Herbs hung in fragrant bundles from the rafters, and the counter was lined with leather straps and crystal trinkets. The air smelled of spice and dust.
That was when he saw him.
A figure at the counter. Dark robes, heavy boots, and a wide-brimmed hat pulled low. The shape was familiar. Too familiar. Beneath the shadow of the hat glowed two round, yellow eyes.
Vivi's breath caught. His staff slipped in his grip, trembling.
Another… like me.
The figure paid quickly, clutching something wrapped in cloth, then turned toward the door. For a single heartbeat, their eyes met—yellow to yellow. Vivi opened his mouth, words tripping over each other.
"Wait—please!"
The black mage flinched. Without a word, he turned and hurried out. Vivi darted after him, nearly knocking over a basket of pears. "Wait!" he cried again.
Villagers shouted in surprise as the tiny mage sprinted past, weaving through narrow alleys and across a bridge swaying under his weight. He caught sight of the stranger only once more, just beyond the village gate, before the figure vanished into the rocky trails that wound into the forest.
Vivi stumbled to a halt, chest heaving. His glowing eyes dimmed. The silence around him pressed in, heavy and disappointing.
I lost him…
---
Zidane and Garnet arrived moments later, both panting from their chase.
"Geez, Vivi," Zidane said, hands on his knees, "what's with the sprinting? Thought you'd spotted a monster."
Vivi turned slowly, his voice shaking. "I… I saw one. Not a monster. A black mage. Like me. He was right there. I tried to follow, but… he disappeared."
Garnet's expression softened. She knelt beside him, her hand gentle on his shoulder. "Another black mage? Here?"
Vivi nodded quickly. "Yes. I know what I saw."
Zidane straightened, arms crossed. "Strange. What would one be doing in Conde Petie?"
---
They began to ask around. At first, the dwarves only responded with their endless greetings—"Rally-ho!"—and cheerful laughter. Zidane groaned, muttering, "It's like talking to walls." But eventually, persistence found an answer.
"Ah, ye mean the black mages?" said an elder dwarf with a beard nearly reaching the ground. He puffed on a pipe, smoke curling around his wrinkled face. "Aye, they've a village of their own, hidden in the forest yonder. Quiet folk. Keep to themselves. Rally-ho."
Vivi's breath hitched. "A… a whole village?" His voice trembled, the word fragile.
Zidane grinned, clapping him on the back with enough force to make him stumble. "Looks like we've got a new destination."
Garnet nodded firmly. "Then we go together. Whatever truth awaits there, we'll face it side by side."
Quina appeared suddenly, cheeks stuffed with something sticky. "Village mean food too? Quina hope black mages make stew."
Zidane groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Not the time, Quina…"
But Vivi laughed. A weak, wavering laugh, but genuine. The idea of a village—others like him—was more than he had dared to hope. For the first time in his short life, the possibility of not being alone filled him with fragile warmth.
---
High above, on a distant cliff, Sirius stood cloaked in silence. From this vantage, the bustle of Conde Petie was a blur of movement and sound, the dwarves below oblivious to his watchful eyes. His cloak stirred in the wind, though he himself was as unmoving as stone.
Through the threads of destiny he followed, he felt Vivi's turmoil—like a candle flickering in a storm. The boy's hope, his fear, his desperate need for belonging. Sirius's expression softened, though shadows lingered in his eyes.
"So… the time has come," he murmured. "You've glimpsed your kin, Vivi. And soon, you'll find their village."
His gaze lingered on the tiny figure below, so small against the weight of the world.
"The truth will wound you," Sirius whispered. "But it will also make you stronger."
He exhaled slowly, turning his eyes to the horizon where the forest stretched dark and secret. His hands curled loosely at his sides.
"I will not interfere. Not yet. Your thread must weave its own path."
And so Sirius waited, a silent shadow on the cliffside, as Vivi and his companions prepared to turn their steps toward the forest—and the hidden village of the black mages.