All Buffy related things are owned by Joss Whedon, etc, etc. All things related to Final Fantasy are owned by SquareSoft, etc, etc. In short, I own nothing except the idea for this story.
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A collective intake of breath could be heard as the occupants of the Sunnydale High School Library got their first good look at the figure standing in the doorway. She was utterly radiant.
She stood perhaps 5 feet tall, but her stance and posture and the pure grace that radiated from her made her seem several inches taller. She was indeed an imposing figure. The woman was clothed in a dark robe, of the richest blue color, and she had atop her forehead a crescent moon, which seemed to shine in the dim lighting of the library. Her long, dark, hair came down in waves around her shoulders and she smiled a purely captivating smile.
"I've died and gone to heaven," Xander murmured underneath his breath. The woman looked in his direction and grinned slightly, saying, "Not quite yet, my child."
As she neared the residents of the library, it seemed to everyone that she was almost gliding on the air, her feet not touching the ground.
"I apologize for the sudden entrance," she continued, trying to put the Warriors at ease, "allow me to introduce myself. I am Morgan le Fay, High Priestess of the Holy Isle of Avalon."
"Moran le Fay?" Giles breathed in utter astonishment, "it's impossible…"
"Nothing is impossible, Rupert," Morgan spoke, "but we have not time for minor chatter. I came here for a reason, which must take precedence."
"The prophecy?" Willow asked, entranced by the sheer power that radiated off of this being.
"Yes," Morgan responded, turning her gaze to the young witch that stood before her, "I sent your friends their invitations just as the Paladin received his vision. It is time."
"Paladin? You mean Angel?" Buffy asked. Morgan nodded her head in confirmation, "And now the time has come to for you to assume your rightful roles, beginning with you, Janna."
Jenny's eyes widened in shock as the High Priestess turned to rest her gaze upon the tribeswoman. She had heard stories as a child about Morgan le Fay, none of which coincided with the current legends of King Arthur. She was a being of immense power, half mortal, half fae, but wholly servant to the Goddess.
"Your role in this is minor, yet pivotal," Morgan informed her, "you are to teach the Warriors the lessons they must know and understand in order to complete their mission."
"But…I've never…I mean--"
"I understand your confusion. You've heard many of these teachings as a child, many in lives past, and many lay residing in the depths of your mind. You must bring them to the surface, explore them, understand them, and help your charges. I am here only to direct to the Warriors the paths they must take. You must help them continue down the paths, and ensure they do not stray. It will not be easy, and there will be times when no interference will be allowed, as they must discover things on their own, but you are their guide."
"I understand," Jenny said, looking directly into the priestess' eyes, the ancient teachings already beginning their emergence. Knowledge that should not be known. But this was her destiny. She could feel it flowing within her veins--it called to her. It felt right. But she was afraid.
"Good," Morgan smiled, "and now I bless thee." She stepped forth and stood mere inches from Jenny, holding her arms open, as a mother beckoning her child, offering comfort. Jenny stepped into the warm embrace, feeling at once at peace. Morgan placed a soft kiss on the brow of the Guide, and stepped away to gaze at the crescent moon now shinning on Jenny's forehead. The Goddess had blessed her, and claimed her a Child. Morgan smiled.
Jenny stepped back, knowing her path had been laid, and waited in silence for Morgan to light the paths of the others. Suddenly, she could see things clearly, and knew as did Morgan, the paths that had been selected for the others. Jenny smiled, knowing they had been well chosen.
"Alexander," Morgan stated, stepping toward the youth. "Upon you has been bestowed the path of the Ninja."
"Ninja? As in black clothing, big swords, warrior of the night?" Xander wondered, liking this path.
"Two out of three isn't bad," Morgan smiled at him, "you have a child's heart, and the countenance of a fool, but I sense within you courage and bravery as has yet to be shown to the world."
"Um…thanks?" Xander said, not sure if her statement was a compliment or insult. She didn't clarify. She only placed her hand over his collarbone and spoke a few words of blessing. When she removed her hand, there remained in its place a crescent moon, glimmering, comforting. Another Child had been claimed.
Xander couldn't explain the feeling, but he liked it nonetheless. It was peaceful, strong, and almost childish in a way, and had such clarity. He looked up to see that Morgan had moved on to Giles, and knew, as did Jenny, what Giles' path was to be.
"Rupert," the Fae spoke to the astounded Watcher, "I assume a part of you already knows which path you were selected for. As a youngster, you dabbled, but were consumed by the darkness, the thirst for power."
"Ripper," Giles stated, once again feeling the flush of embarrassment. He would never forget who he was, nor what he had done.
"Do not be ashamed, Rupert," the kind voice spoke to him, "you were young, and foolhardy. But it was always for the best. Do you truly think that had you not been who you were, you would ever be who you are?"
Giles had never thought about it from that perspective. "So I am to be a Magick user?" he asked.
"Of sorts," Morgan replied, "you will follow the path of the Black Wizard and Caller."
Giles nodded his head in understanding. It did make sense. After all, he was already familiar with the art of Summoning. Had they not called forth Eyegon as children? He took a sharp intake of breath as the delicate hand of Arthur's sister rested itself upon his collarbone, leaving behind the famed crescent moon and a flood of new sensations. He finally felt the presence of the Entity for whom he and his Slayer had fought so hard for, and simply smiled. He had been blessed.
Buffy gulped in anticipation as the priestess came to stand in front of her. "Slayer," she spoke, her voice filled with a motherly softness, "I will never understand why the Fates choose them so young."
For the first time in Buffy's life, she was speechless. She had no witty comment to make to this all-knowing being. Morgan continued, "I can see you have suffered much. More than any child should. And you fear your death."
"You can see all of that?" Buffy asked, stunned at her accuracy.
"That and much more," Morgan responded, "but you have no reason to fear. You are one of the most powerful Slayers I have witnessed in my existence, and the Goddess knows this. She did well in selecting you. Know that when the time comes for you to leave this mortal plane, your mission will have been finished, and you will be free to rest in the arms of the Goddess…at least until you are called again."
"You mean I have to do this all over again?" Buffy asked, not sure if she was willing to spend another lifetime as a Slayer.
Morgan smiled at the look upon the Slayer's face and spoke, "Not necessarily as a Slayer. Every mortal is set upon this earth for a reason. They have a purpose. Sometimes it is completed in one lifetime, sometimes it takes more than one."
"Oh," was all Buffy could say.
"Your path is that of the Dragoon…a fearless warrior with the bravest of hearts and the purest of souls. I see that within you now. Your path will be clearer than most others, as you have walked it in darkness for the past four years. Now it is lighted, and has a more direct purpose."
Buffy wasn't sure exactly what she was talking about, but her words rang with the clarity of Truth. The path of the Dragoon and the path of the Slayer were not much different. She stepped into the outstretched arms of the High Priestess, and felt the gentle kiss on her forehead. She knew the crescent now shone in that very spot, and she felt comforted. She was being guarded and loved, and some of the ache and the suffering had finally been lifted off of her heart. She wasn't alone, and she never would be again.
"Willow," Morgan spoke next, her gaze turning to the young, yet powerful, witch, "your soul glows of innocence and purity. It is captivating and rich and will aid you throughout your life. You are a healer, natural born. Upon you lies the path of the White Wizard."
"A Healer?" Willow asked.
"Yes," Morgan replied, "suited well, perhaps, for your natural instinct to help people. It is strong in you." Willow just smiled. "You have within you a power rarely found in this plane," Morgan continued, "it is strong, and will need guidance. I sense within you the potential to become perhaps the strongest witch ever born. Maybe someday, you will join me in Avalon as my pupil."
"Avalon? Really?" Willow asked, her curiosity taking over, "it must be beautiful there."
"It is," Morgan replied, "and I have a feeling you will see it someday. But for now, you have a mission to complete." She enveloped Willow in her arms and the crescent moon took its place on the witch's forehead.
Willow couldn't help but feel excited. She felt the moon on her forehead, and was bombarded by the power it gave her. She could feel it in her blood, building. And she felt something else, too. It was glorious. It was as if she was still in the arms of the priestess, but she wasn't. She was in the arms of the Goddess. And she always would be. She was protected, blessed, and needed. She would not fail. The Goddess she had served for so long was with her now, and she was strong. Willow sighed.
"And you, Paladin," Morgan spoke, turning to the remaining person in the room, "you have known your path since you first read the Legend."
Angel nodded his head, saying nothing. How could he possibly become a Paladin, a warrior of the Light, with a demon residing in his body, constantly battling for power against his soul, at points almost winning?
Morgan sensed the direction of his thoughts and ached to comfort him as she had the others, but the Paladin must achieve peace on his own. He must confront and defeat his Darkness on his own if he is to truly become a servant of the Light.
"You have within you," Morgan began, choosing her words carefully, "both the Darkness and the Light. But the two are constantly struggling inside of you. Only one must be the victor. The Paladin can have no Darkness within his heart. He must be surrounded only by the Light, or he will fail. If even a hint of the Dark creeps into his heart and influences his actions, he will fall into eternal Darkness. It is a difficult path."
Angel knew what was expected of him, but he didn't know if he could live up to it. "I can't fight the demon," he argued.
"You can," Morgan stated matter-of-factly, "and you will. The time for the last confrontation has arrived. You can delay it no longer. You can live in guilt no longer. The Light must win the battle within you. If it doesn't, all hope is lost, and the battle will end before it ever begins."
"How can you possibly ask me to fight a demon that has been a part of me so long? To kill and vanquish a part of me that has existed for over two centuries?" Angel asked, feeling the anger and hopelessness fill his voice.
"I never said you had to kill the demon," Morgan told the tortured vampire, "you can never kill the demon. If the demon dies, you die. It is a part of you, as Evil is a part of all mortals. But you must defeat it, you must bind it, and keep it from manifesting itself in your actions. You must not let it control your thoughts or feelings, either. You must suppress it and keep it from influencing you. The guilt you carry with you feeds the demon, makes him strong. If you carry guilt for its actions, the Darkness will continue to hold you. You must free yourself."
"How can I do that?" Angel asked, desperately wanting to rid himself of his guilt, bind the demon, become a warrior of the Light.
"You must confront him, face to face," Morgan spoke the words slowly, letting them sink in. She then raised her arms and, before the gazes of everyone in the library, conjured up a full-length mirror, which stood directly in front of Angel. Only this time, the mirror had a reflection. Not of Angel, but of Angelus, the demon, wearing his game face.
"What the…?!" Angel wondered, completely confused.
As everyone looked on, the figure in the mirror stepped out and stood face to face with Angel. The time had come for the final battle between Angel and Angelus, and the two forms, finally separated, squared off.
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