Tired and sore Grandis slumps down in the corner of the old monastery training room, the very same room in which he spent his entire youth.
“Damn, I hate this fucking place. I wasted my life here, trying to make Dad like me and maybe get him to treat me as his son for once. Now he’s dead and he died like the lying snake that he is.”
Grandis draws his knees into his chest and leans forward looking at the enormous stone pillar he had been working on—the indents of where his fists made contact with the hard rock.
“I’ve come a long way in the time I’ve been gone; I could work on these rocks all day and never leave a scratch. (sigh) He’s really dead… Loghaine, you asshole. Sure, he deserved to die, but how dare you kill him so quickly. I’ve had too many years to foster my distaste and bitterness for you to pass you’re bullshit judgement on him. It isn’t enough for me. I’m glad he’s dead, but I can’t stop wishing he was alive. There are so many more answers I have left to find.”
Grandis, still restless, stands and walks to the wall his father showed him earlier. “Which one was it again? I think it was this one….” He touches one of the bricks on the wall. Nothing happens.
“Dammit.” He begins frantically smacking the various bricks with his palms. After a flurry of fists the wall slides back and opens the passage he had been looking for. “I’m gonna have to mark that thing.”
The stained glass mural sits in the wall in the end of a long gothic passage. The monk stands in its presence lit by the light of the moon and the stars. “So that’s suppose to be me—can this thing even be real? Or is it just some fake created by my father?”
Grandis gets closer and inspects the figures in the mural. “It almost has to be me, so does this mean my dad knew all along I was the one foretold? Not only that but the others… Trill, Loghaine and Durtha are clearly up there, so where’s this new one Quinn? Does that mean he’s going to die, or was he never suppose to be here in the first place?” He shakes his head and rubs his eyes, “There’s so much going on here I don’t know what to think, Durtha lost the book that can doom all the realms as we know it, and the man who stole it knew we going to be here. But how?” Grandis turns away and makes for the door. “Ether way, we have to get the Grimoire back and after that we make for the Sephiroths.” The door closes behind him as Grandis heads up to the abbot’s bedchamber.
“So what to do with this place…. Well, maybe that could work. It’s not like I know anything else.” Once in his father’s old room Grandis is still unable to sleep; he spends the rest of the night scrawling on a old piece of parchment. He manages to get some rest only after image on the parchment takes form.