Prologue:

Overture

From the tallest of Kudik Peaks, Marche could see all of Ivalice, spread like a patchwork quilt of farms, forests and cities. The winds picked up, carrying the land on it: fresh-baked Sprohm bread, the leafy smell of the Giza plains and even the cold of the Jagds. Marche closed his eyes and breathed it in, leaning into the gust. He felt the world embrace him with the comfort of faith and the warmth of a mother's touch.

When he again opened his eyes, the whole of it was burning. There was no noise to to the towering flames; only the wind whistled. Something wet his gloves. He looked to his hands and saw that they were dark with blood. His eyes went wide. A shadow fell across and he whirled. A Judge sat mounted before him. One hand held reigns, the other a sword. The two locked gaze. Marche could feel his heartbeat.

Moving with the wind, the Judge shifted and drove the length of steel through Marche's gut, bleeding out the plates of his armor. He staggered but didn't feel pain. He looked to the sword and spoke, but no words rang out. There was no noise as the Judge lifted him up off the ground. He slid the blade to the hilt. The Judge whipped the reigns and walked to the edge, casually flipping the blade to clear it. Marche kept his mouth open as he flew through the air, unable to scream or serve any verbal emotion. Blood trailed like escaping birds above him. His hands spread, arms limp.

He fell for hours, tumbling through the air, not moving, not breathing. He landed in the inferno. The flames started to eat at him. There was no pain as it scorched his flesh. As the fire took to his vision, he saw the top of the cliffs, now impossibly close, and the Judge sheathing its sword and taking grip its helmet. It lifted off easy. Marche's body went tight.

Ritz was in the judge's armor, contempt working her expression.

Marche reached to her a hand, burning at the fingers. He opened his mouth and two words rang like mourning bell.

"Ritz, why?"

She shook her head and answered. She stared hard. Marche tried to get up, to go after her, but his body was fixed to the ground, the flames starting to burn. He felt suddenly tired. He relaxed his muscles and took a breath. He fell into a sleep against his will, the flames taking him. He saw Ritz turn and leave just as the darkness came.

Her words followed it.

"You had no right to steal this from me."

Marche lost consciousness completely, drifting away from the burning world.