[Chrono Trigger Novel - Episode 58] The Broken Prophecy
Marle's pendant struck her chest as she pushed the door open.
The necklace was trying to lift of its own accord. She closed her hand around the gem and entered. The Mammon Machine stood on a raised dais, shining far more fiercely than it had in the palace. The light itself seemed to hold her at a distance. Schala stood before it, one hand braced against its edge.
“Schala!”
She turned. Her mouth opened in surprise, and her knees bent beneath her. Marle started forward, but a line of light crossing the floor surged up in front of her. Its heat stopped her. Schala raised a hand, warning her back.
The queen stood higher up, behind her daughter. Even with Schala leaning against the machine as though she might collapse, the queen never took her eyes from it. The Prophet waited near one wall. The mouth visible beneath his hood remained silent.
“A little more,” the queen said.
Schala shook her head. She tried to withdraw her hand, but strands of light followed it as if holding her wrist. Marle could not tell what compelled her to move. She could only see the fingers opening, then curling again. They were not the fingers of someone who wanted to hold on.
“It's already too much. If this goes on, everyone—”
“There is nothing to fear.”
The machine's resonance swallowed the queen's words before they could reach her daughter. She stepped closer. Red lines spread beneath the hem of her gown.
Marle raised her bow, then lowered it. Would bringing down the queen free Schala? She had no way of knowing what would happen to her the moment an arrow flew. Instead, she looked for a route around the machine. Crono had already reached the foot of the stairs on the other side. He looked across at her as he unwrapped the red knife.
Marle nodded and reached toward Schala to show him where she meant to go. He dipped his chin once.
Lucca crouched behind a low railing. Her gaze moved between the channels of light and the places where someone might safely step.
“Along the wall, Marle. Don't cross the middle.”
Marle moved before she had finished. She tucked the pendant inside her clothes and ran beside the railing. As the queen turned toward her, Crono climbed the short flight of steps. The uncovered red blade caught the chamber's light.
The Prophet moved away from the wall.
Marle thought he meant to stop them. Instead, the hooded man looked past Crono at the Mammon Machine. His silence was strange, but there was no time to question it. Schala reached toward her. One low step remained between their hands.
“Come on. Let's get you out of here,” Marle said.
Instead of answering, Schala looked at Crono. The red blade had touched the machine's body.
First came a small metallic sound. Crono set one foot forward and drove the knife in. Red lines spread across the stonelike surface, then light covered the hilt. The embedded blade began to lengthen. When it grew beyond his grasp, Crono opened his fingers and stepped away.
Marle caught her breath. A sword stood where the knife had been—the same shape she had seen in the Denadoro Mountains, the blade that had gone back to Frog. Before the faces of Masa and Mune could fully form in her mind, light rushed inward around it.
A crack opened in the upper part of the Mammon Machine.
The light around Schala's wrist released her. Marle leaped up the step and caught her. Her hand was startlingly cold. The queen's voice rang above them.
“What have you done?”
Lucca came up the stairs and pulled Crono by the arm. Light burst from the machine toward the ceiling. Every glowing line in the floor went dark at once. Marle bowed her head over Schala, holding her close.
The resonance stopped.
For the space of a single breath, there was quiet. Marle heard Schala breathing. She was alive, lifting her head in Marle's arms. It seemed they might simply walk out now.
Then another sound came from beneath the floor.
It did not belong to a machine. It did not seem to travel through the stone. A low cry shook the inside of Marle's chest. The extinguished lines lit again, flowing in the opposite direction. Light poured from the crack, spreading far beyond the machine until it filled the chamber.
“Back!” Lucca shouted.
Marle tried to help Schala stand, but could no longer tell where the ground was. The stairs had not tilted, yet she pitched forward. Crono caught her arm. As the three drew together, Schala's outline blurred beyond the light.
Marle reached to keep hold of her. Cloth brushed her fingertips and slipped away.
The walls vanished.
An immense surface rose before them in starless darkness. What Marle had taken for rock moved. Beneath long, thick spines lay overlapping layers of shell, and light gathered in a cleft that opened like a mouth. She tipped her head back to judge its size, then stopped. Every upward glance revealed more of it. None brought her any closer to an edge.
Lavos.
The thing that had turned the sky red in the recording at Arris Dome stood before them. Back then, they could turn off the screen. Here, even closing her eyes would leave that low cry in her bones.
Crono drew his sword. Not the blade the red knife had become; that was not in his hand. He raised the short sword Melchior had given him to its familiar height. Marle nocked an arrow. Lucca moved a little way apart. They spread out as they had against the golems.
Light kindled inside Lavos first.
Marle released. The stone-tipped arrow crossed the darkness and struck the shell, but no sound of impact returned. Crono's lightning and Lucca's fire burst almost together, briefly illuminating the vast surface before they vanished. Marle could see no crack, no sign that the creature had recoiled.
The light came for them.
There was no time to choose a direction. A shock rising through the ground lifted Marle off her feet. She hit shoulder first, clutching her bow against her. She tried to cry out, but no breath came. Heat gave way to cold, and then she could no longer tell where her body ended.
After a while, she felt the floor beneath her palm. Curling a single finger took effort. She drew her arm in and rolled over. Light glinted on Lucca's glasses. Her friend lay on her side, breathing. A little farther away, Crono was trying to brace himself on an elbow.
Marle gathered healing warmth. Her palm brightened faintly, then went dark. She tried again, her breath coming faster. She reached toward Crono, hoping to send him whatever she could.
A robe swept between them.
The Prophet was walking toward Lavos. He did not pause to look at those lying on the ground. With both hands, he threw back his hood and cast off the robe. Pale hair and long, pointed ears emerged.
Marle opened her mouth, but the name would not come. A castle in another age, an altar in darkness, the face they had confronted there—all settled over the face before her.
“Magus,” Lucca breathed.
He did not turn. The composure he had worn at their first meeting was gone from the face he lifted toward Lavos. Marle could even see his lips part as he drew breath.
“This time, I'll finish it.”
A scythe moved in his hand. Marle remembered the black force he had wielded when he came at them. Now a deeper darkness was gathering before Lavos. The air pressed inward, muffling her hearing. Crono stopped trying to rise and looked toward him.
Magus brought his arm down. Darkness engulfed the enormous shell.
Marle found herself hoping his attack would strike home. She watched the man who had turned a blade on her and wanted him to succeed. If Lavos drew back, even for a moment, she could get Lucca to her feet. She and Crono could go and find Schala.
The black light bent inward.
Magus's arm jerked up. He was not drawing back the power he had sent. Something was tearing it from his fingertips and shoulders, pulling it into that vast opening. He set one foot behind him and braced himself, but his feet scored long marks across the ground. The hand holding his scythe sank.
“Stop!”
Schala's voice.
Marle turned. Schala was running toward them through the darkness. The queen was behind her, though she made no move to follow her daughter. She stood in Lavos's light and looked down at Magus.
Before Schala could reach him, he was flung backward. His scythe scraped away across the ground. He fell between Marle and Lavos. Rolling onto his side, he tried to get up, but his arm would not support him.
The queen laughed. Marle did not look up. She watched Schala kneel beside Magus. She did not know why Schala reached for him, or why he fell silent when he saw her. What mattered now was that neither of them was getting up.
Marle gathered warmth again. The light beginning at her wrist barely filled her palm. When she sent it to Lucca, her friend's shoulder moved a little. Once was not enough. Marle lowered her head until her forehead touched the ground and struggled for another breath.
“Marle.”
Crono's voice.
He had come closer. With one knee raised, he looked from her to Lucca. Marle held out a hand. She meant for him to take it so they could stand together.
He held it briefly. His fingertips were warm. Then he moved her hand toward Lucca and withdrew his own.
“Stay with her.”
He rose without leaning on his sword. His knees would not straighten at first. He tried again and got to his feet. Marle reached for his clothes and missed. Crono looked back. He was still close enough for her to touch if she reached once more.
“Come back.”
He did not answer. Light was gathering inside Lavos again. Crono walked toward it. Marle's hand remained where he had been.
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