So, here goes and the image is by a friend, not myself.

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It’s an endless wall. More like a mirror that stretches to both ends of the horizon. The wall reflects endless valleys that have no vegetation. The only moving object on this sad scene is a prisoner named Xylotal. He’s been imprisoned here for almost four years, but it wouldn’t matter, because time does not pass here. He made an attempt to kill a corrupt government official. Xylotal has to bite down on his lips and break the skin, because he doesn’t want to relive what he did. He’s a prisoner here, because he failed to kill the official.

He heaves a heavy sigh, while conjuring up the image of guards drawing their guns.

He was put before a judge, but he knew it was all semantics. Nothing that he had to say would have made a difference. He was an enemy of the state. When the trial was over, Xylotal was left alone in a room. His sister came to visit him, but she couldn’t get a word in before the guards pulled her away. She left a chocobo keychain in his cell. It’s bright yellow colors contrasted with everything else in the grey room.

Xylotal would never use the word “magic,” because he knew that was something only found in fairy tales. But his beliefs were challenged in that grey room.

When Xylotal was facing the corner of the cell, a man by the name of Tresu walked in. He wore a long blue robe with long sleeves that looped around his wrinkled hands. The deep circles under Tresu’s eyes were those of a person who had not slept in years. In reality, Tresu doesn’t sleep. He stays awake all night speaking in tongues, because he is a warlock. He called the man in the blue robe an artist. Tresu pointed at Xylotal and asked him what his crime was.

“My crime is trying to bring change!” The boy screamed, but it made no difference.

Tresu smiled and spoke the words: “Ultima” and a bright light enveloped the boy.

When he awoke he was a prisoner in his barren land. He’s the king of nothing and infinite space. He bites down even harder on his lips, because he knows that he’s a good person. He pulls out the chocobo key chain, but it’s grey here. His clothes have no color. Nothing is the same.

But he’s been practicing his own style of art. Xylotal has been praying to the gods and many have heard his summons. One night, when he was remembering what it felt like to be near a warm fire, a being named Ifrit appeared. It bore resemblance to a ram or a satyr.

Xylotal showed no fear in front of this being, because he had nothing to lose. Ifrit’s nostrils flared with a flame that ignited the barren land and reflected a great light off the mirrors.

The boy kicked violently when the flame rushed towards him. He fell down with a great headache and dreamed that night of forests burning and people’s skin falling off their bones.
The next night the boy prayed to the god of ice, Shiva. Her summons brought an extreme cold to the land. Xylotal’s eyes glossed over from the bite of the snow. Shiva floated with the falling snow. She stood with a mocking pose in the air, because the boy could not have been the one to summon her.

But he was, because he had to make his way back home. He had to make them know.

Shiva glided to the boy’s side and was burned. The boy’s fury burned with the power of Ifrit. Shiva bowed to the boy and the freezing cold no longer bothered the boy. He was commanding all that was ice and fire.

The next night the boy didn’t pray to any other gods. Instead he prayed to his sister. Her image flickered in his mind, but it was a fleeting memory. He began to cry, because he could see her reflection in the great wall. She motioned to him, but the wall was solid. She was sad. Xylotal became paranoid. What if they were hurting her?

But it wasn’t his sister that was being reflected in the mirror. The reflection was a demiurge named Pari. The monster appeared before the boy as his sister and convinced him that he would break free.

He accepted Pari’s help. The demiurge stole the boy’s soul. The prison grew very dark and the mirror had nothing to reflect.

This morning, Xylotal wakes up with a headache. He stares into the mirror and notices that his face is not reflected. He always knew that he was the good guy. He touches his hand to the mirror and he pushes through the other side.