The night air in the Black Mage Village was heavy with silence. Lanterns glowed faintly across the narrow paths, their flames bending with each whisper of the wind, casting long, wavering shadows against the huts. The air smelled of earth and smoke, tinged with something faintly sweet, like dried flowers.
Zidane, Garnet, and Quina had wandered in different directions, curiosity pulling them apart—Zidane chatting with villagers who dared linger, Garnet tracing her fingers along the strange runes carved into doorposts, and Quina sniffing around any building that smelled remotely like food. That left Vivi alone, drifting restlessly between the narrow lanes.
His glowing eyes traced the outlines of the homes, the way lantern light spilled across rough-hewn walls, the way curtains fluttered when he passed and then snapped shut. The whispers came in fragments—never clear words, just frightened tones that broke off the moment they realized he was near.
It hurt. Even though he looked like them, the other black mages pulled away, as if his closeness was dangerous. And every time their eyes flicked toward Zidane or Garnet, fear sharpened.
He wandered farther, past the last hut where lanterns thinned and moonlight began to paint the ground. The forest pressed close again, its shadows deep. That was when he saw them.
The graves.
They stretched in neat rows, simple wooden markers jutting from the earth. Some had flowers—wilted, drooping—but most bore only names, scratched letters carved by unpracticed hands. The ground was uneven: some mounds fresh and raw, others older, settled with grass.
At the front of it all stood a lone figure. A black mage, tall and still, his hat tilted slightly forward, robes stirring faintly in the cool night breeze. He wasn't moving, only staring at the rows before him as though rooted in place.
Vivi's breath caught. His feet slowed. But something tugged him forward. He gripped his staff tightly and stepped into the clearing.
"Um… h-hello…"
The mage turned. His glowing eyes blinked once, slowly, and unlike the others, he didn't flinch. He didn't run. His voice, when it came, was steady, deeper than most Vivi had heard. "You should not be here at night."
Vivi shifted uneasily, clutching his staff tighter. "I… I saw you here. I thought maybe… I could talk to you."
The mage studied him in silence. Then, without a word, he turned back to the graves. His voice came quiet, almost like he was speaking to the earth itself. "They stopped moving."
Vivi blinked, confusion wrinkling in his tone. "Stopped… moving?"
"That is what happens to us," the mage said, plain and unshaken. "We live… and then one day, we stop."
The words sank into Vivi like stones in water. His eyes darted over the wooden markers, his chest tightening. "They're… gone?"
"Yes." The mage's voice held no anger, no despair. Only calm, steady truth. "We bury them here. So they are not forgotten."
Vivi's breath shuddered. His glowing eyes dimmed faintly. "Do you… do you know when it happens? How long… we have?"
The mage finally turned, facing him fully now. His eyes glowed softly in the moonlight. "I am No. 288. That is the number I was given. None of us know how long we last. Some… only a few months. Others… years. But all of us stop, eventually. That is our fate."
Vivi froze. His small hands trembled so badly he nearly dropped his staff. "Then… then I'll stop too?" His voice cracked, thin and fragile as glass.
288's gaze softened. There was no cruelty in him, no rejection—only quiet understanding. "Yes. One day. But that is why we live as best we can. Even if it is short, it is still ours."
Vivi's knees almost buckled. He wanted to argue, to shout that it wasn't fair, that he wanted more. His voice broke as he whispered, "But I… I don't want to stop. I want to keep going. To stay with my friends. To see more of the world."
The taller mage stepped closer, slow and deliberate, and rested a hand lightly on Vivi's shoulder. The touch was warm, grounding. "Then do so. Every moment you have, use it. Fill it. That is what gives it meaning."
The words struck Vivi like both a weight and a spark. His breath trembled, his chest rising and falling as though he'd run miles. His eyes shimmered faintly with tears. "I… I think I understand. A little."
288 nodded once, slowly, and looked back at the graves. "We cannot change what we are. But we can choose how we live before we stop. That is enough."
---
Behind the huts, Zidane leaned against a wall, arms crossed. He hadn't meant to follow Vivi, but when he noticed his little friend slipping away, he couldn't help keeping an eye out. He caught fragments of the conversation from a distance.
Live as best we can… huh? Zidane thought, his usual grin replaced with something softer. Kid's carrying more than anyone his size should. But… maybe he's tougher than he knows.
---
Elsewhere, Garnet stood near a lantern, the flickering flame reflecting in her eyes. She had wandered alone, but something in the quiet pressed on her chest. The sight of the village doors slamming shut earlier replayed in her mind. And now, through the faint night air, she caught Vivi's cracked voice.
Her heart clenched. She whispered to the empty path, "If only I could ease his burden… but some truths no hand can soften."
---
Quina, for once, sat still near the chocobo pen, staring at the stars. Even they sensed the heaviness in the air, their usual obsession with food stilled for the night.
---
In the treeline, Sirius observed, silent as the mist that coiled between the branches. His gaze lingered on Vivi's trembling shoulders, on the faint glow of tears threatening to fall.
So… 288, you have shown him the truth. Not cruelly, not harshly, but as a steady flame in the dark. And you, Vivi… your heart aches, but it grows stronger with every wound. This is how threads are tested—by the weight they can bear without snapping.
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing faintly. Not yet will you see the trinket. That day will come, when despair threatens to break you, and when hope must be kindled anew. For now… endure. Grow. Learn what meaning truly is.
The graves stood as silent witnesses, wooden markers etched with names and numbers. The lantern glow flickered, the forest whispered, and in that quiet place, Vivi's thread grew tighter—woven with sorrow, hope, and the fragile courage to keep moving forward.