Salve Regina...(Zeal Kingdom, Chrono Trigger, Before the Fall, Janus, AW)

[Schala Zeal]

The young woman who walks through the halls is poised and confident. Her stately bearing is matched only by the calm grace and politeness with which she speaks to those who stop to speak with her.

She is Schala, Heiress to the Kingdom of Zeal and Holder of the sacred Mammon Pendant.

She is not content spending her days asleep in Enhasa, the City of Dreams, or honing her skills in Kajar, the City of Magic, like the rest of the so-called "Enlightened Ones" when there is a whole nation of Earthbound Ones who suffer under the Enlightened's negligent cruelty.

Stepping into the Skyway, she rides the beam of eldritch violet light down to the Terra Continent of Zeal, where she proceeds on foot, on her way to be with the people who truly care about her...

The magicless Earthbound Ones.

[Janus]

Another form treads the road to Algetty, trailing a mile behind the determined figure of Schala, a shape clad in deep blue, almost indigo robes that swath his body until no features may be discerned. The howling winds of the snowstorm that perpetually grips the Dark Ages make such dress a welcome relief from the cold. Yet even were it a warm summer day he would retain the secrecy of his concealment, and as it is a muttered spell has shrouded his frame with an aura of heat. His hood is pulled forward and kept closed by one hand, its ring finger bearing a golden band surmounted by an emblazoned crest, a stylized rendering of the vaunted Mammon Machine. The crest of Zeal. It is the only identifying mark on him...and that is how he wishes it.

For he is no ordinary traveler, but Janus, Schala's own brother, the great Magus himself who would have destroyed the vile scourge of Lavos if not for the interference of a certain party of young fools from the Kingdom of Guardia...and an old enemy returned with a holy sword that had nearly shattered the powers of Shadow. And now that he is here, he does not wish anyone, most especially Schala, to know his true name.

Shaking his head within the folds of his cowl so that his azure hair billows in the wind, the darkly handsome human bares his sharply-filed teeth in a silent snarl. Such fools they were, every single one of them! That bratling of a princess...the mad scientific genius and her robotic slave...the cocky, brash swordsman he might otherwise have admired...and Cyrus's cowardly companion, thinking only of revenge and noble aims when he belonged in the murky swamp water and accursed woods with the other amphibians. They were all misguided and naive, not only for thinking they could defeat him but for their misconception of events. He was not summoning Lavos to wreak havoc on the world, but to vanquish it for all eternity! Yet what could he expect of the spawn of Lavos...its unwitting tools...

Now, thanks to them, he has once more been thrown through time, swallowed by the vortex of a Time Gate and hurled into unknown. The only consolation he can take is that he is once more in the time of his birth...here, disguised as the Prophet with an uncanny knowledge of the future, he has a chance to prevent the Mammon Machine from ever being activated...to save his mother, Queen Zeal...

To save Schala, the only one he has ever loved.

Words flit through his mind, memories of another time--literally--advice imparted with a cruel sneer on a green, alien face...

"Never love a human, Magus...never allow yourself to believe one could love you...they are only ravagers, their entire beings given over to death and rapine, despoiling and ruin...this world will be much better when they are wiped utterly away, believe you me...then we Mystics will restore the balance, and bring back the harmony that has been lost for so long..."

Janus clenches his jaw and stalks on along the icy pathway, impatiently brushing aside snow-laden tree branches and striding along slippery log bridges over frozen brooks, not seeing any of it. He could care less for nature--being one with the Dark Powers, he revels in destruction, and would not care what Lavos did to the planet were it not responsible for the corruption of Queen Zeal...the shattering of the magical kingdom that had been his only home...and the separation from Schala through time and space. He had listened to Ozzie's rantings and inane philosophies only for the duration necessary to glean from him what magical knowledge he could, so as to obtain his personal desires. All the rest was a means to an end. Once victory is his, he will disappear, fade into the shadows, and let the Mystic do as he will with the world.

But Schala...she loved him, she cared for him as no one else ever would. The human race in general is incapable of true love, that he agrees with. But she...she is different. And for her sake he will shake the pillars of the world, fight the ultimate evil...because it is what she would have wanted. And now? He has been given a lease on life, another chance to see her alive, to spend time with her, to possibly change the past and the future from the bleakness he remembers to a time of love and hope...things he hardly dares believe in, but which Schala can engender if anyone can.

That is, if he can ever convince her to stay in Zeal where she belongs instead of running off on her endless, frivolous mercy missions!

Walking faster, he finally catches sight of her around the next bend, a vague silhouette in the swirling flakes, and hurries to catch up. When he is only a few feet behind her, he comes to a halt in the center of the road, crossing his arms across his broad robed chest. His deep, resonant voice carries over the howling storm, filled with contempt and authority.

Your Highness...why do you insist on associating with these...Magicless Ones? You have far more important tasks back at the Ocean Palace. The queen requests your presence...and so do I. We have much to do, and little time to do it.

As he stands waiting in the barren, winter landscape for her reply, his mind races frantically, rather unlike his characteristic methodical manner. Is it possible? If he acts quickly enough, if he strikes the right blow, casts the perfect spell, will he be in time? Will he be able to destroy the Mammon Machine? Failing that, will he conquer Lavos? Will he rescue his mother...or at least his sister? If any of this comes to pass, the course of history will be altered...he will never be flung to the Middle Ages as a lost, frightened orphan, he will never guarantee the Mystics' victory over Guardia or eliminate the nuisances of Cyrus and Glenn. But he would trade all of that, all of his great magic, his power and glory, for one chance to grow up in the time where he belongs...to be raised by she to whom he can never admit the true depth of his devotion...remaining aloof and distant, yet willing to die for her if need be...

[Schala Zeal]

Schala spins, a spell of forgetfulness ready as she eyes the cloaked stranger. When she recognizes the Prophet, she calms down...a little.

Do not try to stop me, Prophet. I know of your abilities...I sense that they rival my own, and you have an aura of ruthlessness about you I have only before felt in the woman I once called "Mother."

But I shall not be deterred. In all of Zeal, only Melchior, Gaspar, and Belthasar care for these unfortunates, banished simply because of their lack of magic. If I do not advocate their cause, no one will. They need someone to care for them; my own brother Janus has commented on the squalor in which they live. The difference between myself and my brother is that he does not understand that they have no choice, and will continue to have no choice for as long as Enhasa, Kajar, and the Palace of the Enlightened float in the sky above us.

So please, Prophet...if there is any heart or soul in you, leave me be. I am doing no one harm, and what I do there costs me little of my power. My father is the one who taught me to care for people; he said I would need the virtues of wisdom and compassion to rule when Mother is gone. I have learnt all I can of wisdom; now it is time for me to practice what I can of compassion. Heaven knows no one else in the Kingdom does.

She turns, and begins to walk away again, the snow obscuring her figure. Her magic keeps her warm, though, and so does the inner fire of the need to help Algetty.

[Janus]

Stoic and impassive, utterly without motion or any indication of life, the robed Prophet of Zeal stands in the exact center of the pathway, the only sign that he is not a cold, marble statue being the swirling of his hair and cloak in the frigid wind. No emotion is betrayed on his features...and yet within, all is a raging maelstrom of fury, confusion, despair, and doubt to rival--no, to surpass--the Dark Age winter.

He knows, of course, has always known, of Schala's passion for justice and morality. He is well aware of her propensity to seek out causes to be championed and truths to be dispensed, her deep and bottomless heart so full of love and compassion. And he also knows of her excellent skill at rhetoric and debate. Yet he is not prepared for the full assault of her words now.

What renders them even more vital, more compelling, and increases their impact is the casual references his sister makes, not even knowing their full magnitude. Internally Janus is reeling from the hammerblows of disapproval and destiny. She does not know she speaks to her brother; that very aura of magic she senses was not even hinted at in his boyhood. And that is not all that has changed in his soul. While never altruistic and kind as Schala, he once did care somewhat for the Gurus and for the poor benighted Earthbound Ones. Perhaps with time he would have come to understand his sister's devotion to their welfare...but he had never received the chance, and now it is far too late for the stone in his breast to summon up even a modicum of pity.

That very fact resonates with her offhand remark about their mother, and nearly causes the mage to snarl audibly. Ever since he had been orphaned and abandoned in the wild forests of medieval Guardia, to be raised with only Ozzie as both mother and father (unless Flea counted...), the pale-skinned sorcerer had prided himself on his cruelty, his lack of sentimental emotion to cloud the more important issues of power and revenge. Yet now he is reminded, painfully, that he is following in the footsteps of Queen Zeal herself. He has sworn to destroy Lavos...yet by turning his back on humanity and subsuming his existence beneath the magic that the parasite from the stars had spawned, is he any better than his mother?!? Could it not also be said that he "only looks like her brother, but is different inside"? What, truly, would Schala think if she knew who he was...who he had become? He has tortured himself many a sleepless night with that thought...and now that he stands before her and hears her bitter rant, he is terrified that he knows very well what her response would be...for indeed, there is no heart and soul left in him...

Looking up slowly to her retreating form, barely visible now through the swirling snowflakes, he speaks softly to she he had hoped to save, but his magic causes his voice to be projected over the howling storm.

I shall not question your right to come and go as you please, Princess. Nor shall I deny that your mission here is admirable and worthy of praise in any other circumstance. But need I remind you, while your actions may harm no one here, what of those in Zeal? Have you forgotten my prophecy, that "in a single day and night, the Islands of the Sky shall break asunder on the earth"? While it is true that will endanger Algetty, the Enlightened Ones are in equally grave peril. And only your powers, properly focused upon the Mammon Machine, can prevent that terrible fate from befalling us all.

Sighing and shaking his head, Janus gazes piercingly at the back of the hood that conceals Schala's blue-dyed hair. All of what he says is true, of course--he had witnessed it all from the Ocean Palace as a boy, just before being sucked inexorably into the blazing whirlpool of the Gate. And while he cares little for those in Zeal, and views the Queen herself as a misguided fool duped into believing in the fairytale of immortality...still, for the memory of who she had been, and of the home he had treasured, he would attempt to change history. He could do no less...it was, ironically, what Schala had taught him, what she was demonstrating so vividly now.

If this is truly your course, then I shall accompany you in your journey, and aid you as I can. But as soon as your mission is complete, you must not tarry here. Lives are at stake...and only you can save them.

Gritting his teeth at having to admit his ineptitude, he strides forward again, approaching her and hoping she will not flee from him. For, after all, in the end it is truly she, and only she, that he wishes to save...and he fully believes that that is his sole province...and purpose in this place and time. All else is meaningless.