#the lightwardens have to die and for the moment he's the only one who can kill them

[warlordfelwinter]

cool things for fiver to overhear that won't make him more mentally ill

[kharia-adarkim]

Atop Mt. Gulg

significant Shadowbringers spoilers

Kharia narrowly dodged the rain of blades, shreds of her leather jacket being peeled away by razor thin misses. With a guttural cry, she dove forward with her gunblade, smashing through one of Innocence's glimmering wards. The sin eater raised its spear to catch her strike, and Kharia grinned wickedly, pulling the manatrigger twice in rapid succession, unleashing a torrent of aether straight into the monster's chest. It staggered, stunned, before beginning to dissolve into diamond motes. She knelt before it, struggling to slow her breathing. Her respite was interrupted by a rush of magic, and she forced yet more aether into her gunblade and whipped it around, taking aim at a bemused Emet Selch.

"Oh my, such hostility!," he said as he raised his hands in an exaggerrated gesture of surrender. "I was only here to congratulate your hard won victory!" As the wall of light surrounding the dais where Kharia and Vauthry fought dissolved, the other Scions rushed in to see what had happened. The fire in Kharia's eyes told them to stand back.

"He needs to die," Green hissed, willing Kharia's hand to pull the trigger. "He's too big a threat. And besides, what kind of hero would we be if we let an Ascian go?"

"We can't!" Red shot back, "We don't have the strength, not after that fight."

"There are people depending on us, Red." As Kharia's alters raged against each other, a golden mist rose from the cracked ground. "Not just Eorzea, or Norvrandt - half a dozen worlds need us!"

"Come on, pull yourself together Champion," Emet taunted. "Look, all your friends are here! Share with them your moment of triumph!"

"Kharia?" Y'shtola called, "Is she alright?" she asked the other Scions with alarm. Squinting towards the Auri woman, she frowned. "I can just scarcely make out Emet Selch's aether, but this light..."

"She's beaten, but alive," Ryne whispered, "Vauthry isn't here, and she's standing. It's a miracle."

"Yet something is amiss," Urianger warned. "When the other Lightwardens were slain, their aether joined together with that of the Warrior of Darkness. Yet here, the Light drifts, stagnant. I do believe our friend's task remaineth unfinished."

"What?! Why hasn't she absorbed it?" Alphinaud asked. Kharia's arms began to waver, and a knee buckled.

"Oh, but she has!" gloated the Ascian.

"And she's coming apart at the seams," Thancred stated grimly. He nodded at the Auri woman. "Look at her hands." The gunblade's hilt was cracking, and a golden light shown within. Other cracks ran along her fingers, and up her arms. Her eyes, normally crimson, glowed silver, and her hair began to lift and shine. With cold, mechanical motion, she rose back to her feet and steadied her weapon.

"We have all the power we need..." Kharia's voice was distant, tinged with desperation. "We can be the savior of this star - and all her sisters." Her weapon shone like the sun, surging with the gathering aether, crystal and steel growing along her trigger hand. "With the Lightwardens' power, we can bring an eternal peace." Emet Selch cackled.

"Do it, 'Hero!'" he mocked. "Show your friends, the world, the power you wield! After all, who alive can stop you?!" Power rolled off of Kharia in waves. Her legs collapsed in pain, and a bestial snarl rose to her lips. She reached forward, her blazing hand morphing into a claw.

"Kharia!" the Exarch roared against the growing winds. The gale flipped his hood from his shoulders, exposing his ruby feline ears. The Miqo'te gathered magics of his own and brought them to bear against the emerging Sin Eater. She glanced in his direction, too late, and immediately collapsed to her knees, her partially formed monstrous features fading back into golden dust. She doubled over in pain, then glanced up at the Exarch. He winced as crystal spread across his chest, ears drooping.

"...G'raha?" Kharia whispered. Her eyes widened a moment, then drifted shut as she collapsed.

"You've only delayed the inevitable, you know." Emet Selch shook his head.

"Take her back to the Crystarium," G'raha ordered the Scions. "I shall deal with Emet Selch."

"As much as I'd love to see what you're capable of, I really just don't have the time," the Ascian's voice dripped with fake pity. To the shock of all, he drew a pistol from his coat.

"Exarch!" Urianger cried, frantically weaving a shield spell. His magic manifested a moment too late, and a bullet pierced the Miqo'te's shoulder. Emet Selch blew the smoke from the revolver's barrel.

"Relax, it shouldn't kill him - at least, I hope it won't, because I'd rather like to learn the tower's secrets from one versed in it's ways." With a snap of his fingers, a rift of magic swallowed the Exarch. Another snap, and Emet Selch vanished as well.

"Ryne, can you do anything to stabilize Kharia's aether?" Y'shtola asked. There was a pause before she responded.

"I- yes, I think so," she stammered. She ran over to the unconscious Xaela and began to focus. After a few moments of concentration, she frowned. "Y'shtola, something's wrong with her aether." The Miqo'te frowned and knelt by Kharia's side. After a brief inspection, she sighed in relief.

"This is normal, for her at least. And may prove a boon. Her souls are connected, you see." She tapped her chin in thought. "Can you shift their aetherial balance? Make one more infused with light than the other?"

"I can try," Ryne nodded, and began to focus her magics again.

--------------------

Kharia awoke in her inn room with a groan. It was quiet. Too quiet. She began to panic as she rolled out of bed. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. She was... alone. Too alone. "...Green?" she whispered aloud. She nearly jumped from her skin when Ardbert's shade spoke up.

"That's the other one, right?" he said, tapping his temple. "The other 'you,' up in there?"

"How did you..?"

"Gut feeling. Instinct. Something like that. Maybe it's ghost magic." He grimaced. "Sorry, I crack jokes when I'm nervous."

"What happened? After we beat Vauthry?"

"Where to begin? Emet Selch showed up. Shot the Exarch and took him someplace. You started to, uh..." he trailed off.

"What did we do?"

"Change. Transform. The Light was too much. The Exarch managed to knock you out before he was abducted, and Ryne did something to suppress the light. But it won't hold forever."

"Did that make Green..?" Kharia's statement was interrupted when a knock came from the door. "Come in," she called to it.

"How are you feeling?" Y'shtola asked as she entered the room. Kharia glowered. Red hoped her displeasure was palpable in her aetherial signature.

"...I'm sorry. It was necessary. In order to keep your body from transforming, Ryne had to sift some light out of you and into your other."

"Tell me she's okay." Kharia's voice wavered.

"She's dormant for now. Ryne's magic won't hold her back forever though. And when she awakens, she may begin to transform you again." Kharia said nothing. "I apologize, but I have also informed Urianger of your... predicament. He believes that we should search for the Exarch, as it may be possible to use the Tower to seal her within the rift, where she cannot harm anyone."

"No. Out of the question. Green was right, we're making Emet Selch pay. This is all his fault. His, and the rest of the gods-damned Ascians!" She began to tear drawers from their dressers and overturn tables. "Where is our gunblade?!"

"It shattered atop Mt. Gulg," Y'shtola replied. Kharia let out a cry of frustration.

"I'll kill him with my bare hands then!"

"Kharia!" Y'shtola slapped her face. The Xaela sat in stunned silence. "You're in no condition to chase after him. And everyone is worried sick about you."

"They shouldn't be," she muttered. "This is my job. My duty. To save everyone. Including Green." Tears began to well up in her eyes. Y'shtola sighed.

"So much for the easy way. The twins have another theory. Readings from the Tower indicate a concentration of Aether submerged beneath the sea south of Eulmore. We believe Emet Selch has made his lair there."

"How will we-"

"Thancred's already gone to see if the Pixies can aid us with that."

"What about a weapon? I need one that can withstand the Light."

"Legends speak of a blacksmith who built a forge beneath the sea to isolate himself from any distractions. If anyone can craft you something like that, it's him."

--------------------

The Hume gentleman slid the whetstone along the blade one last time, then clicked the aetheric converter open and shut. "I tell you, this might be my greatest work yet. Course, you deserve some credit too miss. I never would've come up with running an aether channel along the back of the blade m'self." Kharia took the blade from his workbench and tested its weight. It felt perfect in her hands. Perfect, like the rest of Norvrandt soon will be, she thought to herself. She blinked, and shook her head. They'd come too far now. Too many people needed her to press ownard, into the darkest depths of the Tempest. And she would illuminate those depths with glorious Light. She bit her lip.

"Somethin' wrong?" the smith asked.

"No. It's good. Great. Thank you."

"Thank you for the inspiration ma'am," he said with a bow. The door to the forge flew open with a crash.

"Heartless! Cruel, crass, uncaring, heartless! That's what you are!" a shrill voice cried from the opening. Kharia spun to see Feo Ul's kingly form ducking through the door. "Our mean, heartless, spiteful sapling goes to the depths of the sea before she calls upon us! How rude! How ungrateful!"

"Feo Ul?"

"Hmph! At least she remembers our name! Not that it did her any good, no. She still doesn't call in her hour of need! Perhaps she doesn't need this new coat after all, she seems perfectly happy to prance about in that ragged thing!"

"A new coat?" she asked.

"Indeed. The finest leather it is! But heartless, ungrateful saplings like you deserve to wear tattered clothes, yes you do." Kharia sighed.

"I'm so sorry, your glorious illustriousness Feo Ul. I truly am unworthy of such a gift."

"Yes, exactly. But since I'm so benevolent and forgiving, I'll give it to you anyways. And you ought to be grateful!"

"Of course, thank you so much your Highness." The Fae knelt before her and frowned.

"Sapling, is something the matter? Your heart doesn't seem to be in it."

Kharia hesitated.

"I'm fine. Really. Just focused on my mission. Thank you for the coat."

"Take care of yourself sapling, you hear me?"

"We'll be fine." She took off the scorched remnant of her old jacket and put on the new one. It fit her snugly, and shielded her from the deep-sea chill. She gave Feo Ul a bow, and left the forge. The other Scions stood outside awkwardly.

"So... are we ready to head off?" Alisaie asked. Kharia nodded, and led her companions further into the abyss. Though nobody said a word, they all noted the faint radiance of her skin.

---------------------

Kharia gasped as she crested another dune. Before her lie a colossal, flickering city, with towers soaring towards the surface, their bases obscured yet further below.

"Gods..." Thancred murmured.

"He's in there. I know it," Kharia spat.

"We must needs exercise caution," Urianger warned. "Before us lieth the lair of our foe, and he be far more familiar with its streets than we."

"He's right," Alphinaud nodded, "We should proceed with caution."

--------------------

Kharia resisted the urge to draw her gunblade against the phantasm. Though these phantom Amaurotines were friendly, and were trying to be helpful, she'd been wandering the city for hours, being referred to this office or that secretary or told yet other form needed filing. The other Scions' efforts were similarly fruitless, having found no means of entering the central capital chamber beyond its front door, which required a writ to open. Kharia took a deep breath to center herself, when a voice called from behind her.

"Excuse me, miss. I cannot help but notice the others you bear with you. One, in particular, looks quite unwell." A curious shade loomed over Kharia. "Has she been exposed to foul aether by chance?"

"Y- you can see her? Green?"

"Yes, in a fashion. I have the gift to see the color of one's soul, you understand, and I can see your twinned souls clinging to each other." The Amaurotine pauses a moment. "A harmony incomplete, it would seem. Though another drifts about you, waiting to join the chorus." The figure turned to face the shocked specter of Ardbert.

"You can see me?" he asked, incredulous.

"Indeed. Her souls and yours. They resonate. It reminds me of a friend of mine, from long ago. Her soul was like a rainbow, several colors forming a beautiful tapestry." The shade shook its head. "That explains his hesitation, as well as his grief. He sees an unraveled quilt instead of a new work altogether."

"I don't understand," Kharia said. "Whose hesitation?"

"You are familiar with whom I speak of. One of my dear partners." Though his face was obscured by the mask, Kharia could hear the smile and adoration in the being's voice. She frowned.

"You know I plan to kill Emet Selch."

"I do. However, as a conjured memory of a time long past, there is little I can do to stop you. I cannot say that I wish you luck, but I pray you find your friend the cure she needs." Kharia glanced aside uncomfortably. The shade stood and left the building, and Kharia sat alone in silence.

--------------------

Kharia lifted her gunblade flat, deflecting a bolt of shadowy magic. Behind her, Urianger tended to Thancred's wounds. Emet Selch cackled as phantom meteors fell around them. "This is the end, hero! Now, at the last, you can feel but a sliver of the despair I felt that day!" Though the air was frigid on this distant, stony stage, her body burned just under the skin.

"Let. Me. Kill. Him." Green's voice strained in desperation. "Let. Me. Cleanse. This. Darkness."

"I can't," Red grimaced. "I let you out, we turn, and this was all for nothing."

"Nothing... Glorious nothing... Let us destroy him! Let us save the world! Save all worlds!" Red's focus shifted from her light-crazed alter to an incoming vortex of frost, far too late to dodge. She grimaced, and instinctively, Green's aether - tainted as it was - flared in a golden dome around her.

"We... won't... die..." Kharia's voice was warped with power as she marched forward, directly into Emet Selch's onslaught of magic. "We... have...... a duty........." The golden aura waned, and cracked. A bolt of flame pierced her shield and knocked her leg out from under her. Her vision began to fade into white, and she coughed blood. She felt her limbs, distantly, as they cracked and burned. Light engulfed her, and her senses dulled. She was vaguely aware of the Scions crying out behind her, and a barrage of magic from Emet Selch flying over ger head. Her senses continued to dull. The clasp of a hand on her shoulder shook her briefly from her stupor.

"Tell me...if you had the strength to take another step, could you do it? Could you save our worlds?"

"What?" Kharia coughed. "All by myself? Green is..."

"But I'm here." Ardbert lowered the haft of his waraxe in front of her. "Take it. We fight as one." Kharia nodded, wrapping her hand around it's handle. Slowly, she rose to her feet, the blinding light that poured from her skin fading.

"Emet Selch. We challenge you."

"How? How do you yet live?" he cried. "You... your aether..." He scowled. "You mock her memory. You're just a poor imitation. But if it's a fight you want, then it is a fight you shall have. Enough with these titles and pretenses. You will face none other than Hades." The Ascian gathered an immense quantity of aether into himself, transforming from a sardonic, middle aged man to a towering avatar of darkness. Kharia twirled the gunblade in her hand.

"It's no axe, but it will do," smiled Ardbert. Red hesitated, then relaxed, and a century of grief, mourning, hope, and desperation filled Kharia's limbs. She let out a deep, determined warcry, and charged the sorcerer head on. Arcs of lightning lashed towards her, deflected by charged blasts from her manatrigger. Hades took a phantom meteor from the sky and gave it form, hurtling it in her direction. Kharia lept into the air and, with a shout, slammed her blade against it. The resulting explosion shot her towards Hades like a bullet, and he raised a clawed arm in front of her, taking a deep gash to the arm to avoid a blow to the chest. Red masks manifested in the space around them.

"It is by my hand that the world shall be unsundered!" Hades' voice cried, echoing from all directions. "Millions of souls depend upon me for their deliverance!"

"We know that burden all too well, Hades," Kharia growled back. She dashed towards him.

"Lies!" he roared. "Your worlds are a mockery of life itself."

"Ardbert..!" Red cried, directing his attention towards a dark rift opening beneath them. Kharia skidded to a halt then lept back. She braced herself for an incoming gust of razor winds. Though her coat flapped wildly, it held fast, and spared her the brunt of the blow.

"This may have been harder than I expected," Ardbert panted. "And she isn't helping!" Green's righteous fury burned their souls, aching the be unleashed.

"Just give up and die already," Hades howled. "Your souls are a crude fascimile of hers, your very existence tarnishes her memory." He unleashed another volley of magics at the steadfast Xaela. The impact broke Ardbert's concentration, but somehow they remained upright.

"No, Hades," Kharia's body moved and spoke of its own accord. "Her memory is tarnished by none other than you."

"That's not you, is it?" Ardbert asked.

"Not Green either," Red replied worriedly.

"What is this? This... impurity?" Green's self righteousness wavered. Kharia tossed her gunblade aside and took a step towards Hades. The sound of creaking ice and tinkling glass began to echo around her. A cough came from behind Hades, and the Exarch struggled to lift his body.

"And how in blazes are you still standing?!" Hades demanded, turning about.

"Oh, I'm not standing," G'raha replied wryly, abandoning his attempt to lift himself with his staff. "But I got your attention, didn't I?" A shattering crash came from Kharia's direction, then another. Hades roared as he prepared for an assault, then froze. The space behind Kharia was broken, wounds torn across the interdimensional rift. An aurora of aether swam around a floating Xaela.

"No... You can't be her... you can't be!" Hades stammered.

"You're right," A voice rang from the maelstrom of aether gathered around Kharia. "She can't be. And never will be. You know this."

"But I have to do this," Hades voice betrayed his steady posture as he conjured globes of arcane might. "I have to! For those we sacrificed to Zodiark. For the Sundered. For Hythlodaeus. For Azem. For y-"

"Shut up," Kharia interrupted. "You did this for yourself. Your guilt." She paused, as if listening to an unheard speaker. "We won't let you disrespect their memories any longer." Hades moved to unleash his magics, but the rainbow of light around Kharia coalesced into a single brilliant, blinding point. Hades recoiled from its might, and from within, Kharia let out a cry, spinning and hurling an axe of pure aether at the Ascian. It tore through his chest, and Hades' spells fizzled out. He collapsed, and his body fizzled to dark mist. The Crystal Exarch stood to his feet and looked in horror as the holes to the dimensional rift grew.

"Not on my watch!" he yelled, casting a spell. Cerulean laces darted across the gashes in space, and G'raha strained as he willed them shut. Suddenly, the burden lightened, and he gasped and glanced beyond the fissure. Alphinaud and Alisaie willed their aether into his spell, and behind them, the other Scions began to stir with grunts and groans. Together, their magic closed the wounds made by Kharia's inexplicable display of might. Her safety now assured, the Exarch ran to Kharia's side. "Are you okay?" he whispered. The Xaela whimpered and struggled to lift a hand towards him. Her voice was barely audible.

"No."

--------------------

"...n't care that you're the Exarch, I told you, she's in quarantine for the safety of the Crystarium!" a man's voice echoed down the infirmary halls. Behind a door with a placard reading "Warning: light-poisoned patient", a Xaela regretted regaining consciousness.

"Did we die?" Red groaned.

"No," Green replied, "Ardbert would know how that feels"

"But gods, I'd almost prefer it," Ardbert moaned. "But look at you. Figuratively. Freed from the Light."

"I'm sorry." Green was quiet. "I failed us."

"Maybe so," said Ardbert. "But you tried." Kharia's brow twitched lightly in concentration as she laid on the infirmary cot.

"Who purged the Light, though?" Red muttered.

"Perhaps another of us? From yet another shard?" Ardbert offered.

"I felt a couple of unfamiliar presences when the Light left me," Green mused. "Granted, one I know now was Ardbert, but I'm certain there were others..." Her considerations were cut short as Kharia was ripped from her stupor by the feeling of cold crystal pressing gently onto her neck.

"...please have a pulse, please have a pulse, please have a-" the Exarch chanted. Kharia groaned and shrunk away from the chill of his hand, her own hands fumbling blindly for the blanket. "She's- you're alive!" Kharia's only reply was a more irate groan and to cover her head. "Tell Captain Lyna! And have her fetch the others. The Warrior of Darkness lives!" The shocked chirurgeon stood for a moment in shock, then took off towards the entrance of the clinic.

[motheatenscarf]

Okay, headache gone, can post thoughts now.

Man, Shadowbringers legit gettin me misty eyed.

Played through the Crown of the Immaculate, had fun getting there, the design on the dungeonand the trial was VERY cool. I'm living for this whole "light as corruption" thing, stark and stagnant, anathema to the churning chaos required for life to thrive. The visual implication that ugly as he was, Vauthry was human and fallible until his transformation into a full sineater, becoming beautiful and corrupted and beyond saving.

And Alphy continues to be my little proletariat pogchamp, I love him so much.

Sad about the Exarch, I get why he had to lie, cuz yeah, his plan to sacrifice himself to save the WoL is not something Talia would have gone along with. She's tired of people deciding she's more important than anyone just because she's the better murderer in a world full of things that need to die. (I'm aware people genuinely see the WoL as a hero, good and true, but from a character psychology standpoint, Talia Does Not see herself that way.) It was what happened with Haurchefant :(

Glad to have it confirmed that Emet Selch WAS sincere in his efforts to try and reach out and see if maybe 7 rejoinings was enough for him to consider us "worthy" again. NOT HAPPY he shot my cat, but the moment before that where you can call out to G'raha Tia directly was sweet.

Even if I'm like.... 85% certain that was a Cats reference.

Anyway, Talia had accepted as an innevitability that defeating the lightwardens would kill her, but was gonna count on the nerds or Ryne to send her to space or strike her with Hydalen's power and scatter her across time and space or something. Learning what G'raha Tia had been doing for the last like... three centuries worth of despair, clinging to hope and helping the people of the Crystarium, that was emotionally affective on its own.

Loved the beat where you're talking to Ardbert and your character starts balling their hand up into a fist and he tells them to take it easy, that if they lose control of their emotions they will DEFINITELY turn into a sineater at this point. It then lets them take a breath and ask what your character is gonna do.

LOVED the options there of either saying, "I"m going after Emet Selch," or, "I'm gonna go and have words with both Emet Selch and the Exarch," and then finally the one Talia chose. I grant you this is likely the one it EXPECTS you to choose/is the default, but I'm glad it was a choice and not the assumption.

Because Talia having to calm down in that moment and being told not to "lose control", i.e., letting her anger take the reigns, gave her that beat she needed to think back to why she was angry. Think back to something Alphinaud told her over hot chocolate about not letting people be sacrificed for a cause.

So she said she was gonna go save G'raha Tia.

And as if that wasn't a sweet enough moment, the fact that the Scions refuse to let you sneak off and do this alone, and then summon the people of the Crystarium who also want to save the Exarch after everything he did for them.

It's that Sam Rami Spiderman shit for me, man. Where the hero just gets their ass beat again and again and when shit looks its bleakest, is saved in turn by the people they've been protecting. The whole "People of Nordvandt coming together to build a kaiju, the world saving the world" bit was nice, I like it, it rewards you for putting in the effort.

But idk. I'm personally more about that whole, at the darkest hour, the hero didn't stand alone shit. Let them think this is the end or they're on their own or they have to hold out just long enough for the acceptance of the inevitable sink in only to offer that ray of light.

Also, goddamn, the voice acting is so good here. You can HEAR Alisaie's voice actor crying when Alisaie cries and tells you off for trying to refuse their help because you could turn into a sineater at any moment. You could HEAR Urianger's choked back tears as he begged for forgiveness, or at least being allowed to help, after having to deceive you.

And then the people of the Crystarium being like, whatever's happening, if it's to help you and the Exarch, we'll do it. We know who you are and what you've done for us and we won't let you face this alone.

Idk. It's nice to see the hero get to have people to lean on. To know that they aren't just saving people as a passing do-gooder but are building a community.

And I hate to say it, but it's made all the more meaningful after the miserable slog that is ARR's thankless hoop jumping where F'lamihn doesn't even save enough food to give your character a decent meal after a long and terrible day. Keeping most of the Scions at arms' length for most of the game only for them to realize and express how much your character actually means to them is good, actually.

And then clicking on the characters afterward, and having Alphinaud mention the exact moment and conversation I the player was remembering as I made the choice that this was a growth moment for my WoL, was like.... YAY, good writing, they know what they're doing and their themes and message are consistent! Him saying, "I wasn't gonna give up on Estinien and I'm NOT giving up on you now!" about my WoL after everything they've been through made me misty eyed, and yeah, Talia would be a sobbing wreck to realize there are People Who Love Her, maybe even as much as she loves them!

[uroborae]

viii. shed

And when the light returns;

when it bursts from the seams, splits flesh into gilded cracks and the ivory sludge she wretches onto the ground stains her lips, her skin;

it had expected this from the very start.

For an auspice should, juvenile though she is, understand the very fluctuations of its soul. Where her entire disposition could shift into cataclysm, a devastation upon which would threaten the safety of those it has come to consider as friends (fortunate though that its lifestyle was enough to keep the Aramitama at bay), Astraia had not left Hell's Kier until the very nature of that precarious balance was sufficiently understood.

So upon the first inception of light, where it had taken that blinding white into its soul, she had noticed the way it had bent to contain it. Noticed as it distorted when each Lightwarden was slain, each region cleansed from their burning corruption, as she contained the miasma within. That when Y'shtola could no longer see the truth of her, when they had raised arms against what should have been seen as an ally, Astraia knew this would be a fate from which it did not expect to return.

It does not say it knows what will be.

It pretends it does not see the way Y'shtola grows to worry.

So when Innocence falls, and it knows it has taken too much, for it was after Storge when it began to crack and splinter, it makes sure it is far enough from the others when it soul begins to break.

When it fails, and it collapses beneath the strain, and wonders if dying has always felt this painful.

Or if it has taunted and denied death so much that, now caught up with her, it has condemned it to punishment.

Its avatar tries to offer mercy, dams the corruption by way of darkness, but even as the aether that swathes it becomes a checkerboard of whites and blacks, Astraia does not think it can do much against the weight. For it is a poison that stretches into each crevice, tearing her apart from within.

She is unravelling. A sinner damned. This infernal light burns its blood, burns the flesh, and there is a point where it struggles to breathe. As though its lungs have hardened into marble and its veins turned to ash.

It must look a hallow horror.

Gaze blinded by the light that erupts from it, drowning the world in a violent pallid hue, it does not, cannot, look upon the faces of its friends. Can barely hear them as they speak. It wonders, hopes, they are prepared to deal with the aftermath of her. Clever that they are, the would find a solution to the light if they had not already.

There were worse ways to be a sacrifice.

Much less when the desire to die was so very strong.

She offers again a single soul to save a world, and hopes this time it might be the last. Where it would end their torment as the final of abominations, where they might finally be free

and the agony of its soul, this loss and anquish, might cease.

"The combined power of every Lightwarden is too terrible a burden for any one soul to bear." When the Exarch steps forward (having waited, no doubt, until this very moment) when no when else will, the sigh that leaves it is one of relief. To finally know end, even if he had used her to achieve salvation, before the light takes hold

"And so I shall relieve you of it."

only for him to claim its place when it is unable to do otherwise.

To deny this sacrifice it would make for them, for his name to join the many who had given up their lives for its sake already, those it had not been enough to save

And it is like he conspires to make it hate him, but he offers such poor deception. A resolution that betrays his lies, his attempts to become their villain fractures with every word, that its feeble attempts to stop him only embolden him further. A determination for a stranger that borders on irrational, a dedication when it would be so much easier to let her go —

The wind howls and rips the hood from his head

and it all makes sense

in the worst of ways it does,

for the words it speaks next are only of a hollow, haunted understanding.

"G'raha Tia."

SHED (verb.) cast or give off (light)

[tcmpestes]

WARRIOR / WARDEN.

details events of final fantasy 14: shadowbringers. (act i and act ii)

when you wake up, the sky is blinding. the trees are purple, as is the meadows around you. your hair, longer now, is streaked with black. you remember swimming through...something. memories? souls? aether.

this is not your world.

your first friend laments over the state of the world. how darkness has been vanquished, and everything has been swallowed by light. there are angels here, but they are monsters. to be forgiven is to be eaten. you sit in his presence for a while, before wandering to a familiar landmark nearby.

you are nearly killed by one of these monsters before you even make it to sanctuary. as you are scolded by the viera guard, you note the familiar ring that stumbles from the remains of the beast. your first friend here has perished. to be forgiven is to be eaten, and this world is hungry.

you are saved by a hooded figure -- part man, part crystal -- who invites you inside. you know him as the crystal exarch. piece by piece, he will soon explain everything about this broken world that he dragged you into to save. he is familiar but different, and you agree to travel this new world to gather your friends in an attempt to cull the encroaching calamity.

you find the twins first. more specifically, you find alisae first, having vowed to never leave her alone again. you learn of how people can turn into these monsters, you see how painful it is. you comfort her as best you can.

you find alphinaud next, and somehow talk your way into the nicest city of the world. no one wants for anything here, instead choosing to live the rest of their days in hedonistic bliss. you stand beside him as he discovers the enigma of the lord of this city. how the monsters of this world stilled in his presence. how they were peaceful, and lounged alongside him. you end up following him as he walks out, moments before he is banished.

when you've returned back to the crystarium, you are once again asked to slay a beast. it is not a primal this time, but instead a lightwarden -- a strong sin eater in the area that controls the rest of the monsters. the sea of light above splits, revealing darkness in the sky as you land the finishing blow. stars twinkle against the dark, and you feel...different. perhaps a little bit. but it seems you've absorbed this light fine enough that the plan can continue.

the next friend you find...well, he finds you. thancred speaks a name you haven't heard in ages: minfilia. the leader of the scions who brought you into the fold, who taught you about the echo and how to walk in the light of hydaelin. she had since become the voice of hydaelin, unable to return with you to the source. according to legend, she'd come to the first and had stopped the apocalypse from swallowing the star entirely. in those early days, young girls would be found, who possessed the blond hair and blue eyes of your friend, who could not be overtaken by the light. they were named minfilia, the oracle of light, after the woman who had stopped the flood. these girls would join the fight against the sin eaters, only to die prematurely in battle.

when thancred tells you that this most current oracle of light has been captured by the army of eulmore, you're hardly surprised by how invested he is in her safety. you are, however, surprised to see how he treats her. as your group absconds to the land of the fairies, you note how irritated he seems to be with her recklessness, how resistant he is to her pleas to help and fight alongside them. urianger helps smooth some of this conflict, calm and somber as he is. he tells you, in that calm way of his, of a vision he'd had upon arrival to the first. you hear of the world ending, of everyone laying dead. of you, laying dead. this is what would happen if you didn't help the first.

you find titania and confront them with this omen still in the back of your mind.

when you return, you meet...someone new. or is he old? emet-selch is the third of the ascians unsundered, the one you've yet to meet. he claims he is interested in you and your abilities. while you two are enemies, he offers you the chance to collaborate. work together, for the time being. there are few who offer him their trust, but you, at least, listen when he speaks of the world unsundered. when he speaks of zodiark, and hydaelin.

when you find y'shtola, you find yourself drawn to art upon the cave walls of ruins depicting these two beings. zodiark, emet-selch says, was the first ever primal to be summoned. the second, he says, was hydaelin. you think about this often, and hardly notice the way y'shtola looks at you now.

the lightwarden of ahm areng is harder to locate. in the wake of an attack on the crystarium, it seems minfilia is insistent upon helping. she wants to go back to where thancred found her, where he'd once spoken with her namesake for the last time. if minfilia were to give herself up, then the oracle of light would return, and her power would be strong enough to help in their plight. and it would be better if she were gone, wouldn't it? thancred hated her for existing, and she wasn't really doing enough as it was to help everyone else.

you wish you could hug her, but it seems urianger knows how to comfort her when she runs off. you envy him, and how he always seems to say the right things...even in his own flowery way.

the journey to take minfilia to where she needs to be is a harrowing one. eventually, thancred stays behind to face off with ran'jit, and you wonder if it's his last battle. you have little time to linger on such thoughts. you watch minfilia disappear into light...and when she returns, she is different. ginger hair, blue eyes that lack that unsettling shine of hydaelin. she's chosen her own path, and she is stronger for it. when they finally find thancred again, she is given the name ryne. you think it suits her.

when you defeat the fourth lightwarden of the first, you falter. something inside of you is different, and it alarms you beyond no end. if being disconnected from hydaelin was feeling numb, it seemed you felt everything now. you swallow it down, keep it from consuming you. there was still one more lightwarden to find and fell. you were so close to resting. if only you could just...

eulmore falls apart when you find it. lord vauthry has the citizens of his fair city under his thrall, using a tactic that you can't think about for too long. clawing your way to the top of the city, you defeat ran'jit and watch the kind ruler of this land sprout wings and retreat to the top of mt. gulg.

getting to the top of that mountain takes help from everyone on the first. emet-selch reminisces with you, but you aren't really paying attention. you do pay attention, however, to the way the crystal exarch's strength wanes being so far from the crystal tower. you sit with him in a rare quiet moment, and he speaks wistfully of all the adventures he wishes he could've had with you. as if he knew you. who...was this man, anyways?

you would soon find out.

as you finally slay innocence, that feeling within you becomes unbearable. you are hyperaware of everything, you are full to bursting with light. you feel just...two steps away from being consumed. as the light surrounds you, you see the crystal exarch step in front of you. a betrayal, at the very last moment. he means to take this power from you and travel to another world...but this would mean death for him within the aetherial sea. as his hood falls, you see...

g'raha tia. your dear friend, who had been sealed within the crystal tower until a solution could be found. he's here, with greying hair, half-man, half-crystal. he's sacrificing himself for the world. for you --

a gunshot.

emet-selch's monologue rings in your ear, his visage doubling, tripling in your pain. how disappointed he is in you. how weak you are. but, you may still be of use to him yet. once you are on the brink of transformation into a hideous monster, you are invited to reside with the ascian under the tempest, where no one may come to slay you. there, you may peacefully bring about the end of this star.

he leaves, and takes the exarch with him, and you fall to the floor.

to be forgiven is to be eaten. the light threatens to swallow you whole, rendering you unrecognizable. you have not the energy to anything other than lay on the marble floor, feverishly begging --

forgive me, forgive me, forgive me. someone. anyone.

>continue? >return

[snowflowers-ffxiv]

FFxivWrite2024 - #9: Lend an Ear

idiom

— to listen to someone with sympathy

“So there's a light sealed inside you, is there? You wouldn't know it from the outside. You look the same as you ever did to me.”

“‘I must stay the course. For the others.”

“True enough. Packing up and going home isn't really an option, is it. If you don't face the music here, it'll only come and find you there.”

Estrild closed her eyes, counted to five, and exhaled. The little situation she found herself in with the first Warrior of Darkness was one that had taken quite some time to become accustomed to, but despite her initial misgivings, Ardbert had proven himself nothing short of respectful of her privacy. If anything, she’d come to appreciate it. It was odd, having a confidant instead of being one, but in moments such as these, she was grateful for it.

More than once, she’d wondered what it was about him that made it so… easy for her to talk to him, to let him see her vulnerable, especially considering how, when they first met, he and his friends had been trying to kill her. Perhaps it was just that she could be certain that there was nothing he could do anything about her moments of weakness as, as far as she knew, he was the only person who could see and hear him.

Perhaps it was simply because she knew he understood having weight of the world upon one’s shoulders.

“Ardbert…”

“Hm?”

“Y’shtola told me my… aether appears tainted to her. No different from that of a sin eater. When I defeated that last Lightwarden, the light was did not vanish, but was absorbed into me. I still look the same now, but what if that changes? What if… it overwhelms me?” She sighed. “There are two Lightwardens left. ‘Tis not as though I can stop now.”

“Damned if I know.” A blunt admission, but true. “It's not as if I can lift a finger to help myself, much less you. Have faith in your friends. Look out for them, and hope that they look out for you. What more can you do?”

Friends looking out for each other… She had worked with many an adventurer throughout her career, but there were none she trusted more in the heat of battle than those of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. They were her friends, weren’t they? So why didn’t she think they would reciprocate. “Was that how it was with you and yours?”

Ardbert let out a laugh, a sound that conveyed equal parts joy and grief. “It certainly was. We all looked out for each other and took care of one another. Wouldn’t have made it without them. Any of them.” His voice then became somber as he asked, “It was different for you, wasn’t it?”

Estrild nodded. “Of those brought here to the First, I am the only one who bears the Echo.”

“That’s right. You fought those primals alone.” He snorted. “Thank the heavens you were on an entirely different world when my friends and I set out. We never would have made a name for ourselves if we had been in competition with you. Though I suppose if we never made a name for ourselves, we wouldn’t be in this mess now, would we?”

Ah… Estrild could still clearly remember the words that had won them her sympathy even when they had been fighting just moments before. We did everything right, everything that was asked of us, and still—still it came to this!

Perhaps that was what she was afraid of as well.

Ardbert did not seem eager to linger on his past mistakes. “...Think he was telling the truth? Emet, I mean. All that rot about Hydaelyn being no different from any other primal... If so, what would that make Her ‘blessing’? Are we just slaves to Her will?”

Another matter swirling with her mind. She supposed this one only pertained to her as the other Scions did not bear Her blessing. “I remember my first encounter with a Primal,” she whispered. Burned into her memory forever. She would never forget the heat, the scent of ash in her lungs. The flames that demanded she kill a god or die. “When the Lord of the Inferno failed to Temper me, one of the Amalj’aa said my soul already belonged to another, but…” She remembered the members of the Immortal Flames that had been captured alongside her. How the sergeant, so ready to die an honorable death in defiance of the beastmen, had knelt in reverence to Ifrit once he had been bathed in those infernal flames had instead been put to the sword.

Estrild did not know if she could fairly judge herself or her actions on this matter, but… she could judge Ardbert’s. “You were turned against Her for a time and allied with Her enemies. Surely you would not have been able to had you been but slaves to Her will?”

“Hmm… That is a fair point…” He remained in thought for a while longer before he evidently decided to shrug it off. “Ahh─let's pay him no mind. Lies are the Ascians' stock-in-trade.”

He would know that, wouldn’t he? Estrild did not fault him for believing those lies once upon a time. When all hope seemed lost, did it not make sense for one to search for some glimmer no matter how untrustworthy the hand offering it seemed to be?

“It certainly would not be wise to take his word at face value,” she agreed for Ardbert himself had warned her to not repeat his mistakes. “I just wonder if there is some truth to it is all. It is always easy to point out hero and villain in our children’s tales, but ‘tis never that simple in reality, is it?”

“Villains, heroes─all a matter of perspective, they'd have you believe. One man's fond memory another's waking nightmare...” Ardbert’s gaze turned to her open window. “Me, I'm no saint or savior─just another sinner. And I know damn well I'm in no position to judge... When I saw the people of Slitherbough look up at the sky and celebrate the return of the dark...felt good. It was moments like that that I cherished─much more than the thrill of adventure. The quiet after the storm.” He turned back to her, smiling. “I always took comfort in that.”

She smiled back. “As do I.”

The storm will always return, eventually, but those quiet moments were why she will always brave it when it did.

And this was no different.

[toadeyes-miqote]

Post Mt Glug short

Post Mt Glug short from Alisaie’s point of view

The moment they had the privacy of the Crystarium suite of rooms Alisaie broke and screamed at Urianger. Accusations and even a rain of small futile punches that the stubborn Elezen took. He won’t answer a single thing if Thancred was not able to argue for or against him.

As though using Thancred’s sense of priorities to buy himself time. Time for what? More words of empty promises and oath? For what? The next threat? How do you even bargain with a Sin Eater?! Who else will die? Who else will get hurt because of his schemes?

And what good would that amount to if one has to sacrifice a friend to achieve such a lofty goal? Dark thoughts, darks thoughts wonder if he even sees them as friends or much less allies when it comes to his visions and prophecies. Greater good be dammed

Even while Y’shtola and Alphinaud questioned him, his stubborn silence on the matter and the empty words that distract only frustrate the half grown Elezan maid to the point of breaking off to join Thancred and Ryne in caring for Hylnyan.

A wet towel covered the Miqo’te eyes. Cold light crackling, seeking to escape from her left eye. There was a strange quality to her much paler hair and skin. She had worked with those who were touched by Sin Eaters and yet this seems different somehow. Belated realizing that the dark hair Miqo'te was losing colour since her arrival.

So many questions and yet she hoped that Hylnyan’s closeness to Thancred and his soothing voice would draw the Miqo’te back into their fold. Hopefully as herself. However much time Ryne had bought and whatever good it might do.

The thought of Ryne having to fight a Lightwarden Hylnyan was terrifying. Do they even have what it takes to take on her? Ryne having to absorb all that light and become another Lightwarden or face another possible Oracle rebirth.

Was this what the line of nameless girls were subjected to as Oracles of Light in their final fight? Was Urianger preparing Ryne for this fate as well? Its scares her to wonder if the only reason he hides in Il Mheg was to avoid getting too attached to people.

So many question that had no answers to their immediate problem. What can they do? What can she do?

[marjiandco]

4. Baleful

This is a companion piece to the third prompt, a prequel to how Raiku managed to get invaded by a voidsent. This prompt was super helpful in fleshing out the direction I want. You can read the first (second?) part here!

Raiku crashed into the ground, the skin on his back scrapping painfully against the rocks as he slid back. He had no time to think of the pain, as he rolled back and leapt away from a giant porcelain foot stomping on the little indent his body left. He shot an arrow at her heart, but the winged sin eater blocked it with her marbled sword, and swooped closer to him.

“Get back you wretched thing.”

It swiped at him, and as he tried to flip out of the way it caught on a corner of his bow and wrenched his arm, near cracking his body like a whip as she followed through with her slice and then reversed direction. He was once again flung, this time into one of the caves dotting the landscape. 

The hollow forever light slipped away from him, and he was enveloped in the blessed dark of a hole in a mountain. It was a small opening he managed to fit inside, the sin eater too big to stand its full height as it floated to the ground and walked towards the mouth of the opening. He clutched his arm to his chest, sure his wrist was broken. He tried to move it and sucked through his teeth.

“Gods damned world with its gods damned light demons!” He shouted, his chest shuddering at the volume. He tossed his bow to the side and grasped one of his chakram’s in his good hand.

He spat pink spittle onto the ground and dug the edge of his new weapon into the dirt to hoist himself to his feet. The things hand grasped the top of the cave’s mouth and bent low, its empty eyes locking with him.

“C’mon.”

It sounded like stone scraped against stone as it started to move inside. Raiku crouched low, holding the weapon in front of his face. A halo of orange-tinged whiteness glows around her body. He’s been chased by this thing for nigh on a summer, near destroying a town that had sheltered him a day before. Even Vauthry’s thralls were easy to slip even when they had tasted his aether, but this thing was adamant to consume him.

“C’mon,”

It pointed the sword down at him, and Raiku knew if this thing died there was no escape from the sickness it’d spread. He had to at the very least escape, and continue to keep it away from the townspeople in the valley.

The sin eater paused, and turned its head like a dog. It stopped moving, and Raiku stared at it, unsure.

“Well what’re you waiting for? The rocks in your head quit working? Let’s go!” He jumped forward, but his feet never touched the ground.

Black tendrils rushed forward from behind him, five of them wrapping around his ankles, wrists, and neck as a mass of blackness rolled forward.

“I think it’s looking at me.” It said, and it shot forward and knocked the light warden out of the mouth of the cave before creating a giant square with its body and blocked all light from entering the cave.

Raiku couldn’t see anything, and moaned as the tendrils tightened on him, his broken wrist pulsating with inflammation. He looked wildly around, but there was no light reaching inside. The tendril holding his weapon’s hand tightened until he dropped the chakram, and from the darkness he heard footsteps scuff along the ground.

“Who’s there?” His eyes start to droop, the dark simulating closed eyes and he hadn’t slept for more than a few hours combined the last few days.

“I bet you’re surprised to find me here, I certainly am.”

The tendril on his bad wrist slowly unfolded itself and slipped underneath his arm, as if providing a place for it to rest.

“Sorry about the restraints, couldn’t let you get in the way while I kick out an unwanted guest. They make me sick, you see.”

“I’m not asking again, who are you?” Raiku said in false bravado.

The voice chuckled, a sound similar to branches creaking in the wind. “I think the question you should be asking isn’t who am I.”

The hairs on the back of Raiku’s head stood on end.

“Its what am I.” The voice whispered behind his ear.

The lalafell yelped and tried to turn but the tendril on his neck held him in place. He grit his teeth, his eyes popping open as a realization dawned on him. The dark mass, lurking in a cave, sick from light.

“A…a voidsent?”

“Ding ding ding!” the voice was in front of him again.

“But how?”

“Oh, how did I manage to survive in this starved world? I don’t think that matters. What matters  is that I need to get out of here, and I know you do too. Your aether doesn’t match this world, and I think I could help you out there. If you let me hitch a ride, I’ll do whatever you ask of me.”

Raiku could feel the tendrils lower him to the ground, gingerly letting him find his footing before slipping away. He fell to his knees and felt around, but of course his Chakram was nowhere to be felt. He could feel his heart beat in his throat, any tiredness he was feeling was being erased by anxiety sending his senses into overdrive. He, Raiku Honaku, was somehow caught in a voidsent’s trap in a light blighted world. He somehow managed to follow a path that ripped his aetheric soul from his body, and land right here, in this moment, in the clutches of some demon. Painful laughter welled in him and burst forth like a spicket, lasting so long he was tearing up and clutched his chest as he tried to calm down.

“Let ahaha- me guess.” He bit his lip but it couldn’t stop the flow of hysterical laughter. “You’ll kill me if I don’t-ehehehehaha-agree?”

The voidsent waited patiently until Raiku’s laughs turned to pants.

“You’re kind of the only real chance I’ve found, why do you think I sent for you.”

Raiku’s head shot up. “Sent? How would that even be possible? Aren’t you all on opposite ends?”

Raiku couldn’t tell if his brain was making up a body to talk to or if light was slipping in, but he swore he saw something shrug.

“My influence doesn’t reach far but I can get the weak willed denizens to follow an order well enough. I couldn’t tell the light warden but I could give it bait to find you. And yes before you say anything It was I who had those people stand in front of the thing so it could feed and stay on path. Boo hoo sad days ANYWAYS.” the cave rumbled and for a moment Raiku worried about the ceiling coming down. “Yes, as boring as it sounds I’m out of options my friend. I will kill you. I may not be as strong as I’d like to be but I have enough to snap that little neck of yours. I know that if someone like you is running around, there’s hope there’s more out there.”

Raiku worked his mouth. His plan, voidsent or lightwarden was to get out of the cave. From the little he’s read on the creatures this must be a high level void creature to be able to speak to him and thrall the smallfolk, which begs the question.

“What would your host provide?”

“I don’t require drinking the blood of babes, if that’s what you’re worried about. My ask is all it is; I want to hide in your body. I won’t leech more than what I need to stay alive from you. You may feel tired at first, but I’ll keep you running. I’ll be your ace until you get me out of this forsaken landscape. Or die. Your choice.”

A full minute passed. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” the voice sounded surprised, excited. “You have to agree. Say the contract.”

It might be best to play along for now, and get Y’shtola to rip the parasite out of him. Maybe he won’t even leave the first at all, and the thing will just be a power boost until Raiku’s end. “I will be your host, you help me, and I’ll let you travel with me out of this world.”

“Who will?” It sang. “Say your name.”

“Raiku Honaku.”

It laughed that dead branch laugh. “Excellent. You’re word is my contract, burned into my skin.” There was a faint sizzling. “Now...open your mouth.”

“Wha-” Raiku’s jaw was forced wide and a choking smog dove down his throat. The darkness fell from the cave, the light blinding and burned his eyes, tears streaking down his dirtied face as he squeezed them shut. When he thought he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, the smog was full inside of him. He fell to the floor shaking and sputtering, what little energy he had drained from him rapidly. His eyes fluttered, a haze forming over his mind.

“Don’t worry.” The voice said in his mind. “This part is temporary, I’ll make sure your safe while you sleep. After this, I’ll only come when called, promised by the devil.”

[whispersafterdusk]

Prompt #28: Bow

((Note: A completely "what if" bonkers AU story based on the idea of, what if Il Mheg had gone very, terribly wrong?))

One always seemed to have an innate sense of their own doom -- it was a unique aspect to those who were mortal.  No matter how intact you seemed, how little pain you were in, or how much you were assured it would all be fine...sometimes, you just knew.

Sylnan knew.

He and Titania had dealt final, devastating blows to one another, and as the fae king had faded and the rush of Light filled him Sylnan felt as though he was...overfilled.  Splitting at the seams.  Dissolving and about to burst, like a shoddy dam.  And were he to burst, everyone here with him would be bathed in the deluge of released Light aether, and turned into sin eaters.

Urianger and Y'shtola, and Minfilia too -- they all knew immediately something was wrong beyond his visible wounds.  It wasn't often that Sylnan saw Y'shtola using the healing arts but she and Urianger rushed over to lend their strength to Alphinaud as the younger man desperately tried to close the deathly deep gash across his chest; Sylnan wasn't able to speak but even if he could he wasn't sure if he'd tried to soothe the boy (it wasn't his fault, after all) or begin screaming for them all to run, but then he wasn't certain if he'd be heard over Alphinaud's sobs and pleas, and cursing at the wound that just would not close and stay closed. ((Continued below cut))

A flutter of red in his peripheral and there was Feo Ul, alighting on his shoulder and placing a tiny hand against his brow.

"Oh, my poor sapling...my most darling, my little mortal..."

He tried to purse his lips, to gently shush them, but it seemed all he was capable of at the moment was just breathing (for however much longer he could manage that).

"There is a way..." Feo Ul whispered.  "You've defeated our king... The one who strikes the king down takes their place.  It could save you - that which isn't mortal can't die, after all."

If he fell here...not only would the Scions fall with him, and compound the problem of the First a hundredfold, but everyone Sylnan had ever known back home would fall as well; Urianger's horrific prophecy, that terrible vision of a world dead to Black Rose, would come to pass.  ...what was one mortal soul, weighed against the lives of hundreds of thousands?

He nodded to Feo Ul.

They disappeared from his line of sight and then came back with the crown in hand; the sudden eruption of argument from his friends was fading into so much background noise, and he wasn't certain whose hand it was that reached out to seize his wrist as he weakly tried to lift his hand to take the crown.  A different arm swatted at Feo Ul and drove them again from his sight but they were back just as quickly as they'd disappeared, and now their voice joined the jumbled argument taking place over Sylnan's head.

"Do it."

There - he'd managed speech.  Not the worst final words, but...enough.

He closed his eyes and waited, and felt the weight of something settle upon his brow.

At its touch he felt the sudden rush of power filling him, and in an instant he knew:

Something is wrong.

With the searing energy filling him and beginning to alter his body Sylnan surged up and shoved away those on either side - who had he shoved?  He couldn't tell - his vision was blinded by a blank white nothingness.  He was filled to the brim with conflicting powers that waged a war over who would claim what the elezen would become.

Again, Sylnan knew.  Deep in his soul, he knew.  And he was about to become more dangerous than ever.

Away.  I have to get away. Before I lose control.

He staggered to his feet and began to run blindly but only made it a handful of steps before he was seized from behind and halted.

"No - get away!  GET AWAY!"

GET AWAY-

"I would counsel you to listen."

He kicked out and connected with something, or someone, and then couldn't hold back the energies anymore; the nothingness of white gave way to a nothingness of black and moments before losing all senses Sylnan wondered why, of all people, it had to be Emet-Selch's voice he heard last.

----------------------------------------

"I'm FINE, Alisaie, but I really should return to-"

"NO!  Stop it! DON'T mention him, not again!"

"Stop it, BOTH of you!"

Y'shtola could only just tune out the twins and Thancred behind her; her attention was on the castle looming in the distance, and for once she was at a loss as to what to do.

Sylnan had leapt up as though the crown had burned him, and she'd been able to watch with growing horror as whatever power the crown possessed reacted with the Light aether he'd been carrying from the slain Lightwardens.  It wasn't a stretch of the imagination to say it had immediately been too much for the man to hold, and in his final moments he'd tried to run away -- to spare them.  A noble, and desperate, sacrifice...and for nothing.

While she couldn't say what had happened, exactly, to cause the magicks to react as they had, one thing was for certain:

Sylnan was now Titania...king, and primal, of the fae folk.

Frantic to escape Sylnan had kicked Alphinaud away and yet the boy had still ended up tempered -- he was still sound of mind, but all he wanted was to return to his king's side.

And Urianger...being as he'd been holding Sylnan at the time...

"Quite a fine mess... Not even I could have predicted that."

Y'shtola didn't turn but could sense Emet-Selch's sudden arrival before he ambled into her view.  "Does it not serve your purpose?" she hissed.

She could hear the smile in his tone.  "Is that any way to thank me-"

"-does it not serve your purpose?" she repeated, louder.  "Have you come to gloat?"

He shrugged.  "Gloat?  No...no, for this does NOT serve any purpose that I can immediately see.  This may in fact have dire consequences for our plans going forward...as I'm sure you're pleased to hear."

"How?"   Minfilia came to stand at Y'shtola's elbow, eying the ascian warily.  "Didn't...you want Sylnan dead?"

"Dead?  Yes.  But that?" Emet-Selch gestured at the castle, chuckling.  "That...is something truly remarkable."

"What happened?  Do you know...?"

"Dear girl," the ascian sighed.  "Do you not know how primals are made?"

"She may not but WE do," Thancred snapped.  He came to stand on Y'shtola's other side, staring the ascian down.  "That was unlike anything we've encountered before.  That should NOT have happened."

"No, it shouldn't have...were it not for the minor detail that as the crown touched your dear friend's brow, it alerted every fae within the First.  In one instant, they all knew their old king's suffering was at an end and a new one was ascending to the throne.  All their delight, their sorrow, their relief, their faith...  It all came rushing as one for your friend, and with all that excess aether he carries..."  

Emet-Selch trailed off with another shrug, and Y'shtola closed her eyes for a moment before glancing to her companions.

"...why did you save us?" Minfilia asked then.  She looked between Emet-Selch and the castle, and then glanced back to where Alisaie had a tight grip on Alphinaud's arm.  "Why didn't you let him temper us too?"

"And let you all share in the sudden power he holds?  I'd really rather not contend with that particular outcome...it shall be interesting enough to plan around THIS one," came the reply, along with a smile.  

Share in the...  Y'shtola felt her stomach twist; it was a known fact that heavily tempered individuals -- their forms began to change, to take on aspects of the primal that had enthralled them.  Urianger had been so close to Sylnan...

She turned to eye Alphinaud as Emet-Selch sauntered away; at the very least her eyes couldn't detect anything drastic, though she could see that now he too carried a Light tint to his soul's aether.

Alisaie turned to Y'shtola.  "What do we do now?"

------------------------------------------------

It had been nearly a month since...

It had been nearly a month.  They'd resorted to keeping Alphinaud locked in a room even though, lately, he'd been insisting that Sylnan wanted him to stay with the Scions; the boy had never sounded happy when he told them that, but so far he'd not tried to sneak away as he'd been doing in the earlier days.

The fae were willing to let them travel within Il Mheg but every time they'd tried to approach the castle they found themselves staring down a wall of stubborn pixies who refused to let them pass.

The King's orders, they'd insist. No mortal was welcome within the castle.

They weren't interested in telling them WHY they weren't welcome, only that they weren't.

Minfilia knew if Thancred caught her she'd be lectured and dragged away but...there didn't seem to be any other way of getting a straight answer to the pixies' behavior by asking THEM, so...

The lock on the door to Alphinaud's room was simple to pick so it'd be just as simple to secure again when she left; when she carefully cracked the door open with a small knock she found Alphinaud standing in the middle of the room staring at her, his hands clasped behind his back and an expectant smile on his face.

"I wondered how long before someone came to check on me again.  Am I allowed to leave this room yet?"

Minfilia shook her head and shut the door behind her, leaning back against it. "No...  I wanted to ask you something."

"Of course - ask me anything you care to."

"...the pixies won't allow us into the castle, and say the King has denied us entry.  Do you know why?"

Alphinaud nodded.  "He's afraid."

"...he?  The- Sylnan is...afraid?"

He nodded again.  "He's afraid he might temper someone else.  I can hear him, you know, here-" Alphinaud touched a finger to his temple.  "He didn't mean to do this...there was no safe answer that day.  Had he died there-"

"-we would have all...y-yes, I know," Minfilia interrupted with a shudder.  

"And yet, no one - not even Feo Ul - knew he'd become a primal either.  He just...didn't want his death to cause so many other deaths.  It's not a simple thing, to suddenly become a god...he's actually quite cross about it," he laughed.  "But!  Given time to learn and gain control over his newfound powers, he'll be back to saving the First in no time at all!"

"He still thinks he can help?"

Once more Alphinaud nodded.  "He does.  And I know he can -- with my king's help, we WILL save this world still.  You'll see."

His earnest tone unnerved her in a way she couldn't quite explain, and she quickly left the room and re-locked the door behind her.

It seemed, then, that there was still some part of Sylnan within...whatever he'd become, if his first cohesive thoughts had been to keep them away so he didn't accidentally temper them all.  She needed to tell the others -- she would have to tell them how she'd learned this which would mean enduring Thancred's silent disappointment but this was too important not to share.

---------------------------------------------------

The crown sat upon his head and in one hand he held Titania's staff; rather than a gown he wore a long tunic of gossamer white that hung open to show his chest and the matching pants he wore beneath it.  He had opted to remain barefoot; his hair was long and flowing (still white but more radiant), his wings a black and white ombre with stark black lines in the pattern of a butterfly's markings, and as he lounged on his throne with Urianger sitting at his feet it was easy to see how large his form had grown as well -- at least twice as large as he'd been as a mortal man.

Urianger too had been changed; when they'd first taken in his appearance they'd feared that he'd been changed into a sin eater as he now bore a pair of glittering gold wings and a deathly pale complexion.  But, Minfilia and Y'shtola were quick to notice that while his aether matched the same Light that Sylnan's did it wasn't the exact same that twisted a person into an eater.  It was a small comfort.

Another small comfort was, comparably?  Alphinaud's tempering hardly registered next to Urianger's.

"Ah, my friends..." was Sylnan's greeting. "I...I beg your forgiveness."

His voice rolled over them like a gentle breeze - Titania had also had an otherworldly voice but Sylnan's bore an extra weight to it that settled in one's chest; you could feel as well as hear the sorrow in it.

"...whether you earn it remains to be seen," Thancred spat into the silence.  "How do things stand, as they are?"

Sylnan unfolded himself from the throne and with the flickering of his wings echoing in the chamber, glided down to stand before them; Thancred's hand went to his gunblade but Sylnan made no other moves.

"I am...not myself.  Not anymore.  But I remember the man I was, and the promises I've made.  I will not shirk my duties."

"How can we possibly trust you?"

Sylnan smiled sadly.  "What choice have we?"

--------------------------------------------------------

Tataru knew she didn't need to whisper - the Scions weren't there to hear her - but it felt too unnatural to speak normally around people she perceived as sleeping.

"How are they?"

Krile looked as exhausted as ever and could barely muster a smile.  "...I believe I have them stabilized again, for now.  But...if they aren't returned soon..."

Tataru nodded, sighing and looking over the still forms of the Scions.  "We have to-"

Trust in them, was what she was about to say, when the door to the room was thrown open and a figure clothed in white was revealed.  

Whoever it was didn't walk, they glided, accompanied with a soft fluttering sound; once they were out of the doorway and no longer silhouetted Tataru gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth.

Sylnan.

What...?  How...?  

"Excuse me, dear Krile, darling Tataru," the elezen said - no...no, not an elezen.  No elezen was that radiant, no elezen had wings.  "I will not linger long."

"Who are you?" Krile asked, narrowing her eyes at him.  "You wear the face of a friend but you are NOT him."

Sylnan stopped at the foot of the bed that held Alisaie and removed something from within his tunic, leaning - he was so impossibly TALL - to place it near the woman's head.  "I come to restore our Scions, and to right a few wrongs while I am here."

Krile and Tataru moved together to huddle out of Sylnan's way as he moved to the next bed that bore Y'shtola; Tataru noticed a glint of white and red, and as his hand moved away she could spy a strange crystal resting on the pillow beside the miqo'te's head.  He placed one at Thancred's head and then lingered at the foot of Urianger's.

"What...are those?"

"The vessels with which I return our friends to their bodies...save for...well, them.  At least, for now,"  Sylnan sighed, gesturing first to Urianger and then to Alphinaud.  

"What?  Why?"

Sylnan bent, nearly standing on his head, to place himself at the same level as the two women.  "The others can explain far better than I can...  Now!"  With that he straightened, his head scraping against the ceiling.  "Tell me...has there been any movement around the Crystal Tower?"

---------------------------------------------------------

While he hadn't been expecting a hero's welcome it still stung to have every hand extended to him be holding a weapon.

Sylnan had become exactly what he'd struck down before without a second thought, and Eorzea had no kindness to offer for that sort of enemy.  No one cared that he had saved two worlds with his sacrifice, and no one cared that he'd brought a host of fae with him to the Source to assist the Grand Alliance in driving out the remaining pockets of imperial resistance.  No one cared that he still felt he was who he said he was.

Sylnan was a primal, therefore he was an enemy.  There was no nuance or understanding or forgiveness.

While his little fae army wrecked havoc with the imperials he had awakened the Scions, and G'raha Tia -- everyone save for Alphinaud and Urianger; Alisaie was needed to attempt the tempering cure so he had to wait until she was awake and recovered before he restored her brother's soul - Beq Lugg had tried explaining something about a possible disconnect or issue between body and soul since Alphinaud hadn't been tempered when he'd been called away but for the life of him Sylan couldn't recall the reasonings...all he knew is, the less time Alphinaud was within his body, tempered, the better it would be.  Thankfully, with Sylnan's assistance, Alphinaud was freed quickly and while he wasn't immediately hostile toward the fae king it was clear he was traumatized by his presence so Sylnan continued to withdraw to solitude as often as possible.

Urianger was... Too far gone.  Upon returning his soul to his body his form had instantly reverted to the white-skinned, golden winged figure he'd transformed into on the First, and no outpouring of aether even from Sylnan could make enough of a difference to cure his tempering.  Sylnan had been forced to whisk the man away before Thancred convinced the others to put him down, and was careful to keep him always within arm's reach -- his presence brought more scorn, fear, and calls for violence, and Sylnan knew his time on the Source was reaching its end and thankfully of those things Sylnan had hoped to accomplish while he was here there was just one thing left.

Zenos had once asked Sylnan to accept him; now it was Sylnan who offered the question to Zenos, and lured in with a promise of an eternal hunting ground the man had accepted.  Beq Lugg had assisted in repurposing a soul vessel so Sylnan could carry the madman back to the First with him.

He had absolutely no intention of ever setting Zenos free but a willing victim was easier to manage.

And now...all he'd intended to do, was done.

There were no goodbyes to make, because there were no more friends here.

There was nothing to collect, nothing to enjoy one last thing of - even if there were it wasn't likely he'd have been allowed to.

There was just...this.  A sunset, the rays reflecting off the Crystal Tower, the gentle glow of the portal that stood open but would soon close forever behind him.  His people gathered 'round him, loud and rowdy and feisty with the excitement of having been set loose, fully and ferociously, on new "playmates" and he had Urianger's hand clasped tightly within his own.

This was it.

Sylnan looked around one more time, and then deeply bowed toward the setting sun.

"Farewell, Eorzea... My final song has been sung, even if the audience found it a sour one."

Immediately there was a rise in the chatter of the fae - what song did he mean?  How could anyone not like HIS songs?  HE was the King!  He'd know the BEST songs!

Sylnan smiled into the sunset and flew through the portal.

[zacolyn]

Footprints In Sand: Ch. 1

(Also on AO3)

It had been fine!

Ardbert had known something was wrong with the Warrior of Darkness of the Source, named Albert of all things, since he had made his final choice when Albert was succumbing to the primordial light, but he had thought that joining with him would fix it, or at least help. Certainly it had seemed to, and he had been glad to have found his purpose, to finally be able to rest.

Finding himself waking up in the bed Albert had gone to sleep in several days after returning to the Source put a lie to that notion, however. He patted his chest and sat up, disoriented. Stumbling to the mirror showed him a face much like his own but with longer hair and more of a beard. Albert's face.

“Wh-What’s going on?” He said, voice breathy from fear. “This...this isn’t right at all.” He stumbled back until he encountered the bed again, sat down hard and sat there for several long minutes just breathing while his mind spun in frantic, useless circles.

“It’s okay. It’s fine.” He said finally. “Albert’s just tired. He’s….he’s resting. I....I just need to caretake his body while he recovers. The Lightwardens took a lot out of him. He deserves time to recoup. I’ll handle things until he’s ready to wake up again. It’ll be fine. It’s just a little longer and then I can rest.”

The relief he had talked himself into was short-lived however as his own words uttered so so long ago, over a century by his own telling but so much more recent by compare in Albert's memory, came bubbling up to taunt him.

“Aye,” The Ardbert of memory had stated with so much damnable smugness. “like the Ascians, we too are beyond death! You cannot defeat that which is eternal!”

“Oh gods, don’t tell me I was right.” He whispered, horror washing away the last of the calm he had begun to gather. Had he absorbed Albert into himself instead of the other way around? Had he truly become like the monsters who stole bodies for their own uses?

He stared at Albert's hands--his hands--and witnessed their shaking. “Oh gods, please don’t let me be right....” But he had been, hadn't he? Why hadn't he gone to the Lifestream after Minfillia had rejected his sacrifice? Why had he wandered for a hundred years? Why was he here now in a body that had no business being his?

He uttered a manic laugh and put his hands to his face, then laughed again, not sure whether he really wanted to scream or sob.

“I’m never going to get to rest, am I?” He asked no one, anguish straining his voice. “I’m just going to....to inhabit this body, and then it will die and I’ll just be wandering again. Like a damnable Ascian!” A hand swung down to hit the mattress and he grit his teeth. “This wasn’t supposed to happen! I was supposed to join Albert and become a part of him! He was the hero, not me! He was supposed to survive! This is his story! Mine’s told already!”

He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled a shuddery breath. “Albert’s just tired.” He said with forced evenness. “He’ll be back in no time at all. I just need to take care of his body until then.” Maybe if he said it enough, he could even make it true.

------

He had thought to steal away before anyone would have a chance to notice something was wrong, but he had underestimated Tataru, who ambushed him as soon as he exited the room Albert had been given at Revenant’s Toll.

“Good morning Albert!” She greeted him cheerfully. “You’re just in time for breakfast!” She motioned to the table the Scions sans Urianger were seated at.

Well there was no getting around it now. Ardbert made himself smile and nod before heading over to take an empty chair, hoping they wouldn’t try to engage him in much conversation, since Albert’s memories felt rather spotty.

Still, he started to smile at Albert’s comrades until his gaze met Y’shtola’s and the expression died. In spite of, or possibly because of her blindness, her gaze seemed to sear through him and he abruptly remembered that she navigated the world through the viewing of aether. Clearly she could see that something wasn’t right.

His gaze traveled to the others, and found that Thancred and Alisaie were also staring at him with hostile expressions. Indeed, Alisaie looked about ready to vault the table. G’raha and Alphinaud were the only ones who hadn’t fixated on him, both nose deep in books as they were.

“Is something the matter?” Tataru asked, looking up at them while holding the plate of food meant for Albert.

“That remains to be seen.” Thancred said before reaching over to take the plate. “Thank you, Tataru.” He set it down in front of Ardbert, not having even once broken eye contact. “Go on. Eat. You must be starving.”

What else could Ardbert do? It was true he did feel ravenous, or at least he thought that’s what the sensation in the pit of his belly was. Forcing himself to look away from Thancred’s unnerving stare, he focused on the meal set before him. He had thought the food would merely provide fuel in his current state of mind, but Tataru was simply too good a cook and he found himself enjoying it in spite of the hostility.

“Is aught amiss?” Alphinaud came out of his book fixation and looked around at the others, prompting G’raha to also pull himself out of his book. “Why are you all glaring at Albert?”

“C-Can I finish eating first?” Ardbert asked plaintively before anyone had a chance to answer. “It’s really good.”

Y’shtola sat back and crossed her arms. “Certainly. It would be a shame to waste Tataru’s cooking.”

Alphinaud and G’raha looked at one another with matched puzzled expressions, clearly not seeing what the others were.

Ardbert wanted to dwell over the meal and delay the coming conversation, but one side glance at Alisaie told him she definitely would be vaulting the table if he dallied, so he forced the rest of the meal down as quickly as he could, not really tasting it.

“So,” Thancred said as soon as he’d swallowed his last bite. “Just who the hell are you really?”

“Elidibus?” Y’shtola guessed.

Ardbert’s shoulders had been slumped in guilt, though that accusation had him straightening up. Before he could speak in his defense however, Alisaie finally gave in to her desire for action and hopped up onto her chair, a foot slamming onto the table and her crystal rapier pointing at his throat.

Ardbert’s hands flew up. “Now wait! Hold on! I’m not an Ascian!”

“Then who?!” Alisaie snarled, ignoring Alphinaud’s efforts to get her to get off the table.

“Ardbert!” Gods she was truly terrifying, a fact he’d never properly appreciated so long ago facing her and some of the others as Elidibus’s pawn. “I’m Ardbert!”

For a moment no one moved, then Y’shtola raised her hand and motioned for Alisaie to stand down. Still glaring she stepped back and dropped off the chair, though she didn’t put her weapon away.

“Explain yourself.” Y’shtola said, staring at Ardbert.

“.....Albert went to sleep, and I’m the one who woke up.” He offered lamely, slowly lowering his arms. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why. I’m not supposed to be here….I don’t…” His voice broke. “This was never supposed to happen. This is Albert’s story, not mine.”

Everyone looked at Y’shtola while she pondered this.

“We need to speak to Urianger.” She said at last.

“Before we do that, I may be able to offer an explanation.” G’raha spoke up. “Our dear friend was much stressed by the end of his time in the First, soul and body both.” He extended a hand toward Ardbert. “Ardbert joined with Albert as a conscious choice, and not having absorbed the essences of several Lightwardens, was not so weakened as Albert was by having held host to so much primordial light. So it may well be that Albert has fallen into a coma of sorts, and that left Ardbert to reawaken and take over.”

“So you think this is only temporary then?” Alphinaud asked.

“I think it’s possible, though Urianger may have his own ideas. Krile as well, for that matter.”

“Right then. Let’s not waste any time.” Thancred got to his feet. “The sooner we can set this to rights, the better.”

------

They’d left him in the Solar while discussing him elsewhere. He hardly blamed them for it. He wore their friend’s face but was a stranger. In their position he’d be doing the same. Not that it made the fact any easier to swallow.

Ardbert paced at first, but quickly realized the movement was only worsening his agitation, so he forced himself to sit on the floor and lean back against the desk instead.

After a few moments, he let his head fall back to thunk against the back and stared at the ceiling. The universe truly hated him. Every time he tried to do the right thing it seemed everyone else was punished for it. All of this was his fault. The Flood, his friends sacrificing themselves for his mistake only to later become Sin Eaters, and now Albert might be gone forever. He’d apparently used up all his good deed luck after rescuing Seto from his abusive owner.

I miss you, Seto.

He squeezed his eyes shut against the sting of tears and let out a shuddery breath. “Gods.”

“Which ones?”

Ardbert raised his head to see that Krile had somehow entered without him hearing the door.

“Which ones?” She repeated when he didn’t respond. “Yours or ours?”

Ardbert exhaled heavily and shook his head. “Does it matter? None of them are listening.”

She gave him a crooked smile as she approached. “This hasn’t been a good day for you so far, has it?” She chuckled softly at his incredulous look. “Yes, I suppose the answer is rather obvious but I thought I’d ask.”

Ardbert let his head fall back again and thought sardonically that at least she wasn’t treating him like the others had, though he jerked upright when she prodded him.

“So, Arbert is it?” She asked. “The Warrior of Darkness who was terrorizing the Beastmen and provoking them to summon ever stronger Primals?”

Ardbert put a hand to his face and exhaled heavily. “Ar d bert.” He corrected. “Arbert was just a daft alias. But yes, that was me.” He really didn’t want to talk about that, the least reason being it being a century removed from his memory. His next exhalation was a lot more shuddery. “What’s going to happen to me?”

“The others are discussing that.” Krile admitted. “Y’shtola still isn’t quite convinced you aren’t an Ascian, and the fact Albert was fine when he bid us goodnight yesterday isn’t working in your favor, but I thought I’d come and see for myself.”

Ardbert closed his eyes. “I didn’t ask for this, I didn’t want this, but I might as well be. That snake Elidibus made us like them, and my friends had to give up their souls because of my mistake anyway. What did we accomplish? Very bloody little! They stopped the Flood, but it didn’t fix anything! Albert was the one who fixed it! He deserves to have his life! He deserves to carry on! Why am I here?! Why do I keep--!” He broke off with a sob.

The next thing he knew, Krile was hugging his head. “Here now.” She soothed. “It will be alright.”

If only that was so, but the hug broke something in him and his hand dropped from his face as he began to cry in earnest. When was the last time he’d felt touch, let alone a gesture offered in kindness?

He resisted the urge to hug her, Lamitt at least would have found it insulting to be grabbed that way, and kept his hands on his lap while his body was wracked with sobs and Krile murmured soothing words he heard the tone of more than the words. He couldn’t have said how long it went on, but she held his head and petted his hair until he was spent and only then let go.

She offered him a watery smile when he looked at her before wiping her own eyes. “I know.” She said softly. “Or rather, I can imagine. I don’t know what you have of Albert’s memories, but he spoke of you as a dear friend while G’raha and I were working on sealing up the Crystal Tower.”

Ardbert wiped his face. “So saying those things was a test?” In spite of her comfort he felt a bit resentful of that.

Krile offered an apologetic smile. “Of a sort. I had to be sure you were who you said you were, but I can’t imagine any Ascian taking the act so far as to cry in my arms like that.”

Ardbert’s lips twisted bitterly, but he supposed in the end he couldn’t blame her for being suspicious.

She patted his arm. “I won’t tell the others about this private moment.” She assured him. “Only that I believe you. Wait just a bit longer.” She turned to go.

Ardbert watched her leave and waited for the door to shut before he hit the floor with the flat of his fist, just hard enough to smart. “Damn me.” He muttered miserably. Why was this his lot in life?

------

Y’shtola came striding in about half a bell later, followed by Krile, Urianger, and G’raha. Ardbert had actually begun to doze off from stress-induced exhaustion, but this time he heard the doors and jarred himself awake before scrambling to his feet, unwilling to face his fate on the floor.

“While we’ve determined you’re not an Ascian--the fact you’re still here being pretty clear evidence on its own, mind you--that still doesn’t answer the question of how this happened.” Y’shtola said, crossing her arms. “So do you remember anything amiss?”

Ardbert sighed softly and closed his eyes, obligingly trying to recall anything out of the ordinary from the night before. Finally he shook his head. “No. Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Y’shtola repeated. “Come now, this couldn’t have happened without any signs at all!”

He opened his eyes to look at her. “No. I mean there’s nothing. I couldn’t tell you what he had for dinner, or anything. There’s just a blank.”

Y’shtola’s arms came uncrossed as her expression shifted to alarmed. “What do you mean, ‘a blank’?”

“Just what I said. There’s nothing.” Ardbert spread his arms. “In fact, the last clear memory of Albert’s I have is just after G’raha--I mean the Exarch turned to crystal.”

G’raha’s ears twitched. “....Forgot my former title for a second there, did you?” He asked with dry humor.

“Maybe? It’s not as if you were fooling him when you didn’t do anything to disguise your voice.” Ardbert shrugged. “He knew who you were the whole time and was just humoring you, so he thought of you by your name.”

“Ahh….” G’raha’s ears sagged before he cleared his throat hastily. “Beyond the point! Are you sure that’s the last memory of his you have?”

“Everything after that feels….fragmented.” Ardbert brought a hand up to rub his temple gently. “I don’t know if he noticed, or if it happened suddenly or anything of that sort. I wasn’t….there to take note of anything recent until this morning.”

“What about your last memory then?” Krile asked. “Not counting today.”

“Saying my final goodbye to Seto.” Ardbert answered without any hesitation. “After that I….slept, I guess. Albert let me say goodbye, and that was the end of it. I didn’t have anything else to wish for.” He drew a breath in sharply and clenched his fist. “ I’m not supposed to be here, after all.”

“If memories alone whilst not suffice to solve this most perplexing of mysteries, I propose we adjourn to a more comfortable locale and conduct some tests.” Urianger spoke up.

“Heh. Succinct as always.” Ardbert murmured, and received an arched brow in reply. He just shook his head. “Right then. Lead on.”

------

The ‘comfortable locale’ in question turned out to be Albert’s room, which made sense from a familiarity standpoint. They even let Ardbert sit while they consulted with one another over who should be the one to try first.

“I’m at least somewhat familiar with souls from working with Beq Lugg.” G’raha finally pointed out.

“Hmm…” Y’shtola crossed her arms and frowned in thought before she tilted her head and gave him a smile. “Alright. I can’t deny it’s thanks to you and Beq Lugg that we got home safely, so you might just be the best one to call Albert back too.”

“Ahh, well I don’t know if we should go quite that far….” G’raha rubbed the back of his head. “But either way we might get some answers. With your permission, Ardbert?”

“Of course. I want to know how this happened just as much as you do.” His gaze however turned to Urianger before he closed his eyes and bowed his head. Was it Albert’s older memories that made his own so sharp? Or was it a body of flesh after a century of being unable to touch, to feel, to experience anything other than crushing loneliness?

“Urianger, you were there.” He murmured as he felt G’raha’s magics flowing over him. “I and the others. Our crystals, our cause….did we damn ourselves? Did I...am I really like an Ascian? Could I have….done this to Albert?”

Urianger didn’t speak at first, and Ardbert almost didn’t think he would. “Thine’s own concern speakth volumes.” He said at last. “As for thy soul’s similarity to that of an Ascian’s….for all its resilience, as we have ascertained, our souls are naught but a sliver of a greater whole. However this cameth to pass, I do not believe your small sliver of self could subsume the larger portion of Albert’s even so.”

“Heh...well I did ask.” It was comforting though, in a way.

No more words were exchanged then as G’raha continued to work, and Ardbert’s head only came up when he felt the magics cease.

“Damn….” G’raha shook his head, ears and tail drooped.

“What did you find?” Y’shtola asked.

“I’m not sure….but I don’t think I like it.” G’raha shook his head again. “It was like….wind whipped tatters, or frayed edges. Like a carpet or tapestry coming undone.”

“Gods be good.” Krile murmured. “What are we supposed to make of that ?!”

“Nothing good, I imagine.” Y’shtola scowled and glanced toward Ardbert. “But I bet his part of the tapestry is doing just fine.”

“......I’d venture to guess his presence is the only reason it all hasn’t come apart entirely.” G’raha murmured. “If I had known absorbing the Lightwarden’s power would do this, I would have found another way!”

“Would you have when you planned to sacrifice yourself to take it from him anyway?” Ardbert moved to stand, before he shook his head. “No, it wouldn’t have mattered. It needed to be done, and he did it. Like he always had, like he always did.” He huffed a sardonic laugh. “Because that’s what we do. Warriors of Light, Warriors of Darkness. Just titles people like you slap onto us, along with all your hopes and dreams. Look at where it gets us. Giving up our lives, giving up our souls ! Albert deserved better. But he didn’t care about himself. He didn’t do any of this for himself! He did it for everyone else. Everyone who was counting on him, be they here or on the First. He did what I couldn’t. He did what needed to be done.” His mouth twisted bitterly. ”One life for one world. Fair bargain, isn’t it?”

“If you’re quite done preaching to us, mayhaps you’d like to offer a solution instead.” Y’shtola snapped.

Ardbert shook his head. “If I had one, Id’ve said so. But I’m not the hero here. I’m just holding him together, apparently.”

“Beq Lugg.” G’raha said. “They may have some ideas.”

“True as that may be, we can’t exactly go to consult with them.” Y’shtola pointed out.

“Ardbert can.” G’raha replied. “Not only is the First his soul’s native home, but Albert’s soul still holds the key to the lock between our worlds.”

“And what’s to stop him from just running off?”

“I’m right here!” Ardbert growled.

Y’shtola turned to glare at him. “Well?”

His lip twitched in an aborted sneer, abruptly deciding he’d had quite enough of the distrust even if a very loud part of himself insisted he deserved it.

“Starting to think you’d deserve it if I did.” He said. “But no, because this isn’t about me. This is about Albert.” He shifted half a step forward, glaring fully at Y’shtola. “You can think ill of me all you want, but you don’t know me. I gave up everything to try and save my home, and it accomplished nothing. Albert’s the one who saved it, who….did everything right. I’ll do this for him, so he can continue his story.”

“Well! That settles that!” G’raha said with forced cheer. “I’ll just go pen the letter to Beq Lugg.” He swung on his heel to leave. Apparently deciding this was a wise course of action, Urianger and Krile also retreated, leaving Y’shtola and Ardbert to their glaring.

It was Y’shtola who looked away first, wrapping her arms around herself. “......I apologize.” She said softly. “I know I’m being unfair to you. Albert spoke of you as a friend, and to treat you as the enemy now does his faith in you a disservice.”

“....But you don’t know me.” Ardbert lowered his own voice in response to hers. “I know all of you so much better than any of you could ever know me. He’s not the only one who thought the other a friend.” He flexed his fingers. “He lent me his ear when he was the only one who could hear my voice. He gave me his faith and trust, his friendship. Even when he was scared, and dying to the light tearing him apart from the inside, he wouldn’t give up and rest. So when he finally fell. When he finally couldn’t do it anymore, I said we’d do it together….and we did. All I did was put him back together so he could finish the fight, and now he’s coming apart anyway. Don’t you see? I have to save him. If I don’t, what good am I? I’ve failed at everything else. I have to succeed at this!”

Y’shtola looked sidelong at him. “Of course I want Albert to be saved.” She said. “But if all you see yourself as is the sacrifice, then what was the point of your friendship? Albert clearly treasured you more than that, so to regard yourself as less you spit in the face of all that faith and trust he put in you. You insult him by saying you have no worth.”

Ardbert pursed his lips, but before he could think of a reply, Y’shtola swept from the room and left him alone.

------

Ardbert had made himself comfortable on the bed and was dozing when G’raha let himself in. He waited for Ardbert to rouse and sit up before holding not one, but two folded letters out to him. One was signed for Beq Lugg, but the other seemed to be for Lyna. Ardbert took them, then flapped the letter for Lyna back at him. “Am I the mail service now, kupo?”

G’raha chuckled softly, but then became serious. “I can only imagine how my--which is to say the Exarch’s entombment in crystal affected her. I’d like for her to have some closure, and some answers to questions she never asked but I’m sure she always wanted answers to. Would you deliver it to her?”

“It’s the least I can do, I suppose.” Ardbert agreed. “It’s nice to know someone around here doesn’t think I want to make off with Albert’s body.”

G’raha’s ears twitched. “Well he spoke of you with great fondness while Krile and I were sealing up the Tower. I almost felt like you were one of our own dear friends by the end of it, myself. He trusted you absolutely, so I couldn’t possibly do any less.”

Ardbert nodded slightly. “Hopefully Beq Lugg can help.”

“Well if anyone will know what to do, it’ll be them.” G’raha replied confidently.

“Yes, I know.” Ardbert stood and tucked the letters away. His expression was regretful as he moved to walk past. “I convinced them to help me and my companions remove ourselves from our bodies and fuel our souls from our Crystals of Light, after all.”

“Wh--Beq Lugg did talk as if they’d known you, but they’re the one who--”

“Yes.” Ardbert hastened himself out the door before being forced to elaborate, but was stopped short by a glowering Alisaie.

“So I’m told you’re making for the First are you?” She asked, arms crossed.

“Yes, but unless you have a letter you want me to deliver to someone I don’t think I’m interested.” Ardbert said wearily. It didn’t surprise him that Alisaie would be the other most hostile Scion, given both his own brief encounters with her and Albert’s memories to show him just how hot-headed she was, but he was getting so tired of all of it.

Alisaie responded by closing the distance, snapping her hand up to grab him by the ear and yank his head down, a motion which so startled him he just let her do it.

“Now listen here.” She snarled, but before she could continue he kicked her legs out from under her, which nearly took him down with her before she let go.

He put a hand over the injured ear and stepped back before she could catch her breath and launch any counterattacks. “I said not interested.” He pulled out Albert’s Warrior job crystal and slotted it in as if he’d done it a million times before even though job crystals hadn’t been a thing when he had been alive and he wasn’t even sure existed on the First. The armor changed automatically to a green version of Ardbert’s old armor and even a copy of Ardbert's old axe, because clearly Albert had good taste. With that, he turned to walk away.

“Get back here!” Alisaie pushed herself to her feet. “I’m talking to you!”

“Work on your definition of ‘talk’, then.” He heard the scuff of a boot, but then an exclamation of anger and a scuffle. He just kept walking. Once outside he took a few moments to figure out how to summon Albert’s chocobo, and soon set off for the way to the First. To hell with the naysayers. He wasn’t doing any of this for them.

Ch. 2

[kunstpause-archive]

FFXIV Write Prompt #3: Muster

“Mustering the troops?”

The slightly patronizing sounding voice of the Ascian tore Cassia out of her thoughts. She didn’t need to turn around to know that Emet-Selch was standing not too far behind her. Just like she didn’t need to look at him to know that his face helt the usual peculiar mix of disinterest and amusement as he spoke. His tone gave it away freely already. As did the small sigh of exasperation he let out when she didn’t immediately answer.

“Oh come on Hero, why the long face? You’ve rallied the masses and they are ready for whatever you need them to be. Cause for celebration one might think.”

Vanquishing two lightwardens in a row had indeed put a new spring into the step of nearly every person in the Crystarium. The city had been bustling with activity before, but it was nothing compared to the past few days. A palpable feeling of careful excitement seemed to hover over the place now, visible in every aspect of the city life. From the crafters, who worked with a smile on their face, to the looks of hope in each pair of eyes she had seen at the markets. But nowhere was the change as visible as with the guard. They trained more rigorously than ever before, full of enthusiasm. Of conviction, Cassia realized. A deep seated hope burying itself to the surface, speaking of grand feats and the possibility of defeating the sin eaters. All those faces filled with hope, and Cassia couldn’t help but worry. “They are not ready,” was all that she could mumble. 

“Pardon?” came Emet-Selch’s reply, a hint of curiosity swinging in his voice as Cassia shook her head.

“We never wanted to rally the masses, as you put it. We wanted to help and now…” she let out a deep sigh. “They are going to die.” 

Cassia kept looking ahead, her eyes following a group of guards engrossed in a late evening training exercise before she turned around to look at her uninvited conversational partner. “Not all of them of course, but I’ve seen this before, back in Ala Mhigo.” Her voice was quiet as the memories of fallen soldiers, comrades, friends, felt almost overwhelming for a moment. “They are going to march into battle, fighting for their future - and some of them won’t ever get to see it.”

The look Emet-Selch gave her was one she hadn’t seen before. It was far less disinterested than before and Cassia didn’t know just what to do with it as he suddenly said, “Those who survive will, though.”

She couldn’t help but let out a scoff at his words. “Oh, that makes it all better of course. That some survive…”

But the Ascian didn’t seem offended at all. “Doesn’t it?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in question as he held her gaze. “All of them want to fight. For their lives. They know the risks, know they might not see it all the way through but they are willing to die for what they deem worth fighting for.”

Cassia knew his words held some truth to it, but she couldn’t help but feel tired. Tired of watching people around her die. Tired of seeing the loss in every corner of the world. Tired of watching people make sacrifices over and over again. 

“What good is fighting for a future to every single one of them, if they have to give up their own?” The question sounded almost helpless. She knew all too well that sacrifice was often necessary. But the futility behind it all had never been so obvious, so overly present as it was here in the First where, with every piece of knowledge they gained, it seemed like there were less and less good options for going forward left.

“And what would you have them do,” Emet-Selch argued in that moment, the questioning look on his face an obvious challenge to her. “Should they just sit around and wait for the inevitable end?”

“Isn’t that what you had originally hoped for?” Cassia shot back before shaking her head. “We don’t even know when that end would actually be, and they would be alive in the meantime!” 

“Maybe dying for what you believe in is preferable to living on in uncertainty, waiting endlessly for it all to be over.” Whatever Cassia had expected him to say next, it certainly had not been this, and as Emet-Selch spoke something in his voice gave her pause. A new cadence, that did not quite fit the way he had sounded so far. Not entirely at least.

“Is that what you’re doing then?” Cassia asked on a sudden whim, following the feeling in her gut. “Waiting for something to finally be over?”

For a moment he looked almost startled, before the patronizing look he sported so often was set firmly back on his face. “I believe we were talking about the soldiers, do try to keep up my dear.”

But the sudden change could not fool Cassia, no matter how quickly he had fallen back into his act. And an act it was, Cassia realized by now. She had suspected it before, but this moment, however small it had been, drove home like nothing else just how much of everything he did and said felt like one big stage-play. She had tried to take her measure of him before, but she had been looking at him through the eyes of a warrior. Now that she saw something intimately familiar in his whole demeanour, her entire perception subtly shifted. Through the eyes of an actress, he showed a decidedly different picture. 

“Soldiers tend to be the same in every war,” Cassia said, a telling look in her eyes. “No matter where or when they come from.”

A scoff and a frown were his answer as he gave her a scathing look. “You'd think to compare me to those people?”

“You were the one sounding all wistful about dying for a cause,” Cassia said with a shrug. Her casual answer only seemed to spark more of his disdain, yet he made no effort to leave. Instead he scoffed once more before narrowing his eyes at her.

“Dying is the easy part.” Emet-Selch’s voice sounded slightly more raw than before. “Everyone can die for their cause, living on, fighting on, is the true challenge.”

She thought she could sense a hint of anger in his tone, if only for the briefest of moments. It wasn’t like what he said felt wrong. On the contrary. It felt all too familiar and Cassia let out a quiet sigh. “What if you get tired of fighting?”

To her surprise it was her quiet, honest question that had Emet-Selch almost recoil for a moment. But like before, he was back to being his usual, condescending self in a heartbeat. 

“I tire of this conversation,” he said, looking past her with a distant look in his eyes. “Why do you insist on being this boring…”

Cassia couldn't help but let out a dry laugh at the almost childish sounding insult. “I don’t think I am boring you at all,” she said, watching the corners of his mouth twitch ever so slightly at her words. “I think I am making you uncomfortable.”

Emet-Selch’s lips curled up into a mocking smile. “My dear, more impressive people than you have tried and failed at that.” He sounded surprisingly less sharp than Cassia would have anticipated before he added, “I shall take my leave now.”

“Comfortably, I assume,” Cassia said with a small huff. “But by all means, don’t let little old unimpressive me stop you.”

It seemed like he wouldn’t, as Emet-Selch gave her one last long look before turning around in silence, slowly walking away. Before him, the familiar purple glow of a portal opening appeared when he suddenly stopped. 

“You lose.”

His back still toward her, Emet-Selch’s words hung heavy in the air as Cassia frowned.

“What?” she asked confused, and at that he turned his head, looking at her over his shoulder with an intensity that nearly took her breath away.

“When you get tired of fighting, that’s when you lose,” he said softly before disappearing into the portal, leaving behind only silence.

[party-of-rpg-muses]

Bringers of Light and Shadow (FFXIV Story)

@loona-cee @chronochronicler

With a grand roar, the beast known as Therion breathed it’s last breath, falling to the purple ground before erupting in a buff of smoke. The party put their weapons away as the rest of the Scions managed to catch up to them. At the same time, Emet-Selch approached the group of heroes, his footsteps breaking through the dense silence.

The Warriors of Light turned Warriors of Darkness kept their gaze fixed on the Ascian before them, but their vision repeatedly faded before they refocused once again; they managed to hold back the Warden’s Light more or less, but each passing moment proved harder and harder.

“Well, well. It seems you have prevailed...” Emet-Selch finally spoke. But rather this a light-hearted tone of congratulations, his words dripped with spite, as if he wasn’t happy S’bera and his team survived. “However...” With a wave of his arm, a powerful blast of darkness spewed forth, knocking the Scions off their feet. S”bera and his team stood firm, but were left winded, kneeling between Emet-Selch and the Scions, hardly any energy to stand from such a blast.

“Your performance was appalling and I remain unconvinced of your worth. Doubtless, you and yours stand leagues above the rabble you surround yourself. But you are very much a beetle amongst a group of ants, standing before a lion. If I had used my full strength, you would be nothing more than dust in the wind.” His words matched his gaze, looking down upon the Warriors and Scions with contempt, offended that they dare to exist within the same plane of existence as him. “Such is the truth between us; incomplete and broken reflections against the true article and your world, nothing compared to what it once was.”

Out of nowhere, Alisaie let out a grunt as she charged forward. “Alisaie, no!” S’bera called out, but it was too late. Alisaie’s blade met with a barrier protecting Emet-Selch. He made no physical reaction, as if a leaf was blowing towards him.

“So what if our worlds are nothing like yours?” Undeterred by the barrier, she struck and slashed at the magical wall protecting her opponent, trying in vain to make some sort of impact. “They are still our homes, still full of life and and beauty! And we’ll be damned if we let someone like you take away all we hold dear, just because you don’t like it!”“

Emet-Selch’s brow furrowed, hearing her talk about their “homes” as if they had any right to compare to his home. He brought a single hand up, firing a weaker blast of darkness, striking the young Elezen girl as her brother came rushing to her side. “You speak of beauty, but we of Amaurot know what true beauty-what true perfection-is. What you of the Source and the other reflections are but crude mockeries of that beauty. And the pathetic excuses of lives you lead are just as crude, lacking in meaning and purpose.”

Alphinaud’s arms wrapped around his sister’s form, holding her head to his chest as if protecting her from future harm. “Say what you will; though our lives are hardly a flicker compared to what you live, we will rise again and again and through our words and actions, we can achieve great things. We are the ones who define our own worth, not you!”

With a snap of his finger, several arrows of darkness appeared from the air and embedded themselves in the ground around the twins before exploding, each one dealing heavy damage. Once the dust had cleared, Alphinaud and Alisaie lay hunched over, no longer moving.

The Warriors of Darkness looked on at the sight before them, the twins left a crumpled mess as they struggled to their feet, their whole bodies shaking as they rose. “You... You lied to us...” S’bera spoke, practically leading his friends as they all slowly marched towards Emet-Selch. As he spoke, there was something different about him; the markings on his face had already turned a blank white.

“You said that... we could fight to... prove our worth...” Ishita spoke up next, the dark purple horns on her face the same pure white.

“But you had... no intention of letting us go... did you...?” Next was Omutu, eyes shined through his helmet of darkness, but rather than the usual green eyes, they were white as well.

Their visions were partially obscured in white; each of them could feel the Lightwarden’s essence slowly eating away at them. They had to hold on... for as long as possible.

“And what if I did? Does it matter? Your time is up anyway. And once I reclaim what is rightfully mine, the first thing I shall do is expunge your very existence from the memory of this star.” The Ascian held his hands out, a concentrated blast shooting out of each of his fingers, only to be blocked by a barrier. Y’shtola and Urianger have regained consciousness, ready to assist their friends.

“While it is true that all we love will one day fade to dust...” Y’shtola raised her staff, concentrating as much of her aether as possible.

“The actions we take shalt remain as a guide for those who wouldst come after, to continue upon our legacy.” Urianger said, as calm as ever as Y’shtola’s finished her preparation, letting go with a powerful Flare spell at their foe.

It didn’t take long for the dust to clear, leaving Emet-Selch with nary a scratch as he fired a pair of beams at the two, taking them out with one fell swoop.

“We’re... not done yet...” Frances spoke next, just barely trying to keep her usual detached exterior together. All the while, white patches started to appear on her light-tanned skin.

“So long... as we draw breath... we’ll continue to fight...” U’tala’s black hair, even the hair on her feline ears, had completely turned white with white spots appearing on her tail.

“Oh, poor wanderers.” Emet-Selch responded, speaking to them in a tone one could swear was openly insulting. “You wish to spend your last moments struggling against the inevitable. You’ve no fight left to fight; no life left to live.”

The group had only managed to take a few more steps before the corrupted aether within them flared up, causing each to groan and hold themselves in pain, once again falling to their knees in agony. Again and again, the light flared, desperately trying to push back against the Warriors’ attempts to contain it.

The Ascian could only look on and grin, seeming to enjoy what was happening before him. “Oh, come now~ You are Hydaelyn’s Chosen, are you not? Her Warriors of Light, correct?” He sounded like he was on the verge of laughing. “No sense trying to deny HER Light! Let the light consume you and purge our land of the vermin that infest it!”

As if on cue, Thancred charged forward, Gunblade at the ready as he brought it down towards Emet-Selch, only for the man to easily block the attack as well. “Now, Ryne! Hurry! They haven’t much time!”

The young girl quickly mustered her strength and ran towards the group, her gaze set on stemming the light within them.

However, the former Garlean Emperor saw what she was trying to do, effortlessly pushing Thancred back before preparing another attack. “No!” Thancred immediately rushed to where Emet-Selch was aiming, diving forward as he turned, hoping to cover as much area as possible to protect Ryne. But it was for naught as the darkness pierced through both him and Ryne at the same time.

Ryne only managed a few more steps before falling to her knees. “Fight it... You must... hang on...” That was all she was able to say before falling over.

The party could only look on, their eyes scanning around them and seeing the bodies of their comrades who tried to protect them. But suddenly, the corrupted light aether swelled up again, pushing back even harder than before. They tried to hold it back, but it was a losing battle as they each coughed up what’s would normally be blood, if it wasn’t completely white.

“This... can’t be... the end...” S’bera was the first to fall, his strength completely gone as he fell, his vision going white.

“I couldn’t... protect... anyone...” Omutu was next, his armor clanging against the ground, his vision going white as well.

“Tala...” Ishita could barely hold her hand out towards her Miqo’te girlfriend. “Ishi...” U’tala could barely do the same. Both had regrets in their eyes, being unable to help each other and that they would die like this. They fell forward, the tips of their fingers mere inches apart as their vsion went white.

“Mother... Father... My friends and home...” Frances’ thoughts were off the people she knew and loved; her parents, the friends of her parents, her home, and the friends she made. She’ll never see them again and even worse; she’ll be somewhat responsible for the deaths of the people from the Source. Those were her last thoughts as she fell over and all she could see was white.

S’bera awoke in a pure white void as he lifted his head up, only being strong enough to prop himself onto his elbow. He looked around, unable to see his friends. Is this... the end? The next world? Or perhaps, this is what awaited those who became corrupted by the essence of the Lightwardens. But he immediately noticed someone standing beside him; Ardbert.

“Is this truly it? The Warrior of Light who traveled to another world only to die. Is this truly how your story ends?” The Hume spoke, not even meeting the weakened Miqo’te eye-to-eye. “If you had the strength, would you continue to fight? Fight until your last breath? To die on your feet, fighting for what you believe in?”

“I would.” S’bera wasted no time in responding; the experiences of his travels having shaped him into someone more willing to fight for those he cares about. To fight to the bitter end in the name of all that is good. But... what can he do? This was the end of his journey, of their journey. A pitiful end to the Champions of Eorzea.

“Hmph.” Ardbert couldn’t help but smirk, seeming to be satisfied by the Dragoon’s response, but also sensing the despair in his soul. He reached onto his back and took a hold of his axe, holding the blade towards S’bera. “Take it. We are Warriors and together, we’ll fight for the fate of our worlds.”

Omutu awoke within an empty void planting his hands on... whatever served as a floor as he surveyed his location, nothing but white for miles. He looked to where he friends last were, but saw nothing.

“You gave it your all, but it still wasn’t enough.” The voice caught the Lalafell’s attention, causing him to turn his head and look up towards Branden, the  Galdjent Paladin standing tall, looking forward with his arms crossed. “I saw how you fight; to protect those you hold dear. If given the chance, would you do all in your power to protect them?”

“I would. With my very life.” His response was stern with no hesitation. Long had he resolved himself to protect others with no regard for his own life. But this time was different; he protects those he cares about because he cares about them, the people who made him feel like he truly belonged.

“Hm.” Branden smiled, reaching onto his waist and took a hold of his Paladin’s sword, holding the hilt towards Omutu. “Full glad am I to hear that. You truly are an honorable man, so allow me to assist you.”

Ishita gasped, immediately looking around the void before looking to her side, where U’tala laid, but no one was there. No one was anywhere. She was left all alone in the nothingness.

“So that’s it, then?” A voice broke the silence, causing Ishita to turn her head towards the source, spotting Nyelbert. “A great mage going down without a fight. I find it rather hard to believe you of all people managed to master black and white magicks.” The Elf couldn’t help but pause for a moment. “Tell me, if given a second chance, would you continue to hone your skills?”

“I will.” Her eyes furrowed. She took pride in her magic and she’s nowhere near done yet. But first... there’s an Ascian to take down and a world to save. Two worlds, rather. She’ll show him just how strong her “imperfect” magic is.

“Very well.” Nyelbert took a hold of his staff, holding the tip towards the Au Ra. “I’ll admit, your skills are rather impressive, even by my standards. I have faith in your growth.”

U’tala awoke amongst the nothingness, first looking to her side, only to find Ishita missing. Her gaze scanned the endless expanse, but there didn’t seem to be a soul around except her. But her sights came to rest on a Dwarven girl clad in white robes.

“How painfully tragic...” Lamitt’s tone was soft, almost sorrowful. “I saw how fiercely you made sure everyone was safe and healthy, especially your beloved. I’m quite touched by your dedication. So I have to ask, if you had more energy, would you continue to assist those you love? Heal them, regardless of injury?”

“I will.” U’tala responded, her eyes burning with determination. Omutu may take the role of protecting the group, it’s U’tala’s job to make sure he’s standing. Not just him, but make sure everyone can continue to fight and even augment their strength if need be.

“I’m glad to hear.” Lamitt smiled as she looked at U’tala, removing her staff and holding the tip towards the Miqo’te. “Take it and we’ll help them together.”

Frances blinked her eyes, looking up before looking around, nothing but white as far as the eyes could see. She couldn’t find any hint of her friends; she was truly and utterly alone. At least, until she sensed someone else standing next to her. Craning her head, she noticed a Mystel girl standing right next to her.

“A shame, isn’t it?” Renda’s gaze fell forward, seeming to look directly into the endless expanse. “The hunter has become the hunted. But you’re not done yet, are you? Your skills are about as good as mine. If given the chance, would you be willing to fire another arrow?”

Frances gave a single nod. “Yes. I’ll hit him in his third eye.” A bold claim. And given how small that third eye is, it’d be nearly impossible to hit... for anyone else but her. While she’s confident in her skills, she’s most confident in her archery. But above all else, she has to help the people she calls her lifelong friends.

“Good.” Renda-Rae reached behind her to grab her bow, holding one of the sides to the Viera. “Take it and together, we’ll become the best hunters in the land, taking down this legendary prey.”

Each of the Warriors from the Source reached out to the weapons held out by the Warriors from the First. There was no fear or hesitation in their movements, ready for what may come. But the moment their fingers made contact with the weapon, they suddenly found themselves no longer along. As though the sheets had been pulled back, the group of friends saw each other.

“Omutu? Tala? Ishi? Frances?” S’bera’s eyes fell upon his friends, who looked back at him and each other with equal surprise.

“Ardbert...?” Lamitt’s eyes welled up with fresh tears as she saw the Hume, overcome with joy.

“My friends...” Ardbert stood stunned for but a moment before shaking his head, S’bera doing the same as they brought themselves to attention. “Now’s not the time. We have more important matters.” The other Warriors for the First nodded in agreement, the look of shock being replaced with one of steeled determination.

“Come now, everyone. We have a battle before us.” Arbdert and S’bera spoke in unison, looking forward, the others also looking forward, ready to stand up and fight once again.

“For the light of the Crystals!” Ardbert commanded, his voice booming, ready to fight.

“For the light of Hydaelyn!” The others responded, their voices ringing together, their tone showing how ready they were.

“For those we have lost...” S’bera started, waiting for his own party to follow up.

“For those we can save!” The others cried out, burning with determination from their rallying cry.

A sudden burst of light erupted, causing Emet-Selch to look away from the blinding light. As the light began to fade, a newly revitalized. Not only that, but their clothes had changed; S’bera with a new dark purple Dragoon armor, Omutu changing from Dark Knight back to Paladin, U’tala’s garb becoming a fancy astronomer robe, Ishita now wore red high-end clothes and a beautiful red hat, and Frances donned the garb of a well-versed traveler complete with a fine scarf.

“Know this...” Even though it was S’bera who was speaking, his voice was noticable different; as though two people were talking at the exact same time.

“This world is not yours to end.” Omutu stepped forward, standing side-by-side with S’bera. And just like the Miqo’te, he spoke with two voices.

“This is our future.” Ishita did the same, standing on the other side of S’bera. But not only did it sound like she also had two voices, one of the two was notably more masculine

“This is our story.” Next was U’tala, standing next to Omutu. But the one of the voices that came from her sounded softer.

“And it will continue on.” Finally, Frances took her place next to Ishita. Again, two distinct voices came from her mouth as she spoke.

Emet-Selch did his best to focus, looking towards the party. But rather than their actual appearace, he saw robed Ancients. But the one that stood in the middle drew most of his attention. “No... That’s impossible!” He glred back at the group, angry at the sight he saw. But with a blink of his eyes, his vision returned, laying eyes on the beings from the Source.

“Bah! A mere trick is what it is. You are both broken reflections, nothing more.” He stance straightened, seeming to calm down somewhat. “You are incomplete. Useless. What hope do you have of standing up to a true living being?”

“The hope of the future.” All five of them spoke, no longer with their dual-voices. “We challenge you, Emet-Selch. For the future of this star and the many others.”

The Ascian gritted his teeth, glaring daggers at them, equal parts enraged and offended that they would dare challenge him. “Very well.” His words seeped with spite. “One final test. I shall see your strength, your resolve, firsthand. The victor shall continue and become the hero of the story, while the other goes down in history as its villain.” Darkness swirled and gathered around him. He raised his hand up, balling it into a fist as he slowly brought it down, seeming to focus the power before looking back up at the party.

As he lifted his head, the red Ascian mask appear over his face. “I am Hades!” His voice was markedly different from before. it was deeper and more commanding. “I am he who shall awaken our brothers and sisters from their slumber and retake our home from these mockeries!” His power swelled outward, consuming all around him. Whenever light remained was snuffed out, leaving naught but a single platform to host the battle to decide the future.

[deathflares]

» ffxivwrite day #29 — paternal

lyna&exarch, wolexarch, 1.6k words, G.

[ao3 mirror]

Lyna does not remember her parents.

Lyna does not remember her parents.

The fact pains her less than she would like to admit.

*

Lyna is far too young when she loses them.

She doesn’t remember it, nor does she know the details, only bits and pieces she has heard from others in the Crystarium across the years. All she knows is that it happens because of the Sin Eaters, and that she’s far from the first. What she does remember is clinging to the Exarch’s robes as he talked to someone and they told him things about no one else is able to and far too many orphans and being young and small and terrified.

She remembers him tucking her into bed that night and she remembers asking him, tears in her eyes and a knot on her throat, if she would have to leave, if he was going to come back tomorrow.

He had smiled and told her she had nothing to worry about, then sang to her until she fell asleep.

*

She’s eleven the first time she says it.

The Exarch stops mid-sentence, mouth agape in a way that would be comical were she not so nervous. There’s a long moment of silence after, and she’s a second away from apologizing and playing it as a joke when he kneels in front of her.

“I’m glad you see me as such, Lyna,” he says, the gentle smile she’s so used to back in his face. “But perhaps ‘grandfather’ would be more appropriate, considering my years.”

She fidgets. “You don’t mind?”

“No,” he says, reaching to brush a lock of hair away from her face, “I don’t mind at all.”

*

Being a teenager was not easy for her and, in hindsight, it probably was even less so for him.

“I’m sorry, Lyna,” he says. She doesn’t look at him.

She hadn’t meant for him to find her.

It’s the second time a girl breaks up with her because she finds her grandfather too intimidating, and while the first time has been easy enough to brush off, this one hurt more than she could bear. I’m sorry, Lyna, this one, the one she had actually liked, had said. It’s just too much, being with someone like you. I’m sorry.

She had stayed silent and nodded and watched her walk away, then found a quiet corner where she could hide and let herself cry. But he found her, he always finds her, and though she had always been thankful for that, right now he’s the last person she wants to speak to.

He speaks again when he gets no answer from her. “I understand how you feel, and if there was anything I could—”

“You understand how I feel?” she spits, and already a part of her regrets doing so when she sees how he’s taken aback, lips parting in surprise, but she can’t stop. “How could you understand how I feel? You—you never—”

She stops, uncertain. Has he ever loved anyone? She certainly hasn’t seen him show that sort of affection towards anyone, but she knows he’s lived many times her years. Had there been someone, before she was born?

The fact that she doesn’t know brings another sort of pain to her heart. She calls him her grandfather, yet she knows close to nothing about him. Not even his face.

“Lyna—”

“You don’t tell me anything,” she says, quiet and shaky and hurt. His hand stops in the air where it was halfway to reaching for hers, and he’s silent for an unbearably long moment.

“I do know, Lyna,” he says at last, uncharacteristically quiet. “I had someone too. A very long time ago.”

Her ears perk up, the pain she feels almost buried under the shock. It’s almost laughable, how much this single, vague admission astounds her, but it is the most personal thing he’s ever told her.

She knows he won’t answer if she asks who or when, and she’s too afraid to ask does it ever stop hurting, so she asks the next thing that comes to mind. “Do you still love them?”

He goes so still she fears she’s given offense.

“I do,” he says, after many beats of silence. The smile on his face pains her to look at.

*

Something clicks the moment she lays her eyes on Shiori Minami.

She wants to ask almost immediately, but there’s no room for her selfish pursuit of tiny smidgens of information about her grandfather when their whole world is changing and her men die at the hands of Sin Eaters and the Eulmoran army at every turn. But the night returns, and so does the Exarch, face finally uncovered for all to see, and Lyna finds herself approaching the Warrior of Darkness when the first opportunity presents itself.

She finds her in the Mean, alone for once, looking down at the city below.

“Warrior of Darkness.”

Shiori jumps ever so slightly. It feels a bit comical that the warrior who laid low five Lightwardens is so easily startled.

“Lyna,” she smiles, turning around to face her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She’s been wanting this for so long, yet now that she must ask she feels terribly nervous. What will she do if the answers she finds make him even more of a stranger to her?

“I have noticed you and the Exarch seem acquainted,” she confesses before she can convince herself to back down. “I had hoped you could—” she feels like a child all over again, “you could… tell me about him.”

“Oh,” Shiori blinks, seeming equal parts surprised and confused. “He hasn’t—?”

The question fills her with an odd sort of shame. “No.”

“I see,” she says quietly, eyes falling somewhere on the floor. “What would you like to know?”

Anything. She joins her in leaning against the railings, looking down at the bustling city her grandfather built. “What was he like? When you two first met.”

Shiori’s smile returns at that, though her eyes seem to look towards something far beyond the sight in front of them. “Young. Brash. So cheeky it often irritated me beyond measure,” she answers, but there’s only fondness in her voice. “Bright. Knowledgeable beyond his years. Braver than I could have ever been.”

She pauses, an emotion Lyna can’t quite describe flashing through her eyes for the briefest of moments.

“He was a historian, I’m sure you’re aware.” I’m not, Lyna thinks, stomach twisting unpleasantly. “It was his work that led us to meet, when I found myself tasked with ridding that very tower of certain hostile forces. He introduced himself by making a show out of jumping down from this stupidly high place, had a fondness for mimicking the deeds of the heroes in the epics he liked to read.”

Lyna blinks. The thought of the Exarch doing something of the sort almost makes her want to laugh, were her shock not bigger than her amusement. She stands there and listens as Shiori tells her this tale of a boy and a tower, of secrets uncovered and sacrifices made, and her chest tightens with every word.

“You seem fond of him,” she says for lack of better words, when Shiori finishes.

The look in her eyes grows painfully wistful. Once again she fears she’s somehow given offense.

“I suppose I am,” she answers at last, and Lyna dares not decipher the emotion in her voice.

*

She is patrolling the Crystarium grounds when she sees the two of them, many weeks later.

The fact they are in a very public space does little to assuage the feeling that she’s somehow intruding, but she finds herself too curious to avert her eyes. They’re sitting on the grass on the Quadrivium, barely any space between them. She can only see their backs from where she stands, but it’s enough to see there’s a book open across both their laps, Shiori seeming to be the one reading it aloud, her fingers skimming over the pages.

The Exarch listens, or she assumes he does, in spite of the fact he looks at the woman’s face more often than at the pages, expression bearing an unspeakable fondness. He reaches to place his hand overs hers, and she stops mid-sentence. Lyna watches as he holds the Warrior’s hand and brings it up to his lips, then presses a kiss to her palm, eyes boring into hers with impossible gentleness.

Lyna looks away, and keeps walking.

*

She knows before Shiori says it.

Her eyes are vacant, and she clutches the vessel close to her chest like she would sooner die than let go of it.

“You were family to him,” Shiori tells her. “I hope you know that—”

“Please take care of him,” Lyna says before she can continue. She can’t bear it, not now. Shiori nods silently.

Neither of them cry. Neither remembers how.

*

Lyna does not remember her parents, but she does remember the Exarch.

She remembers being young, scared and alone; remembers clinging to his robes and his hand on her head, warm and gentle. She remembers him reading to her at night, the lullabies he used to sing. She remembers his clumsy attempts at styling her hair that he would apologize for even though she loved them desperately, and she remembers the terrible lump of a cake that he baked for her tenth nameday and how it was the best she’d ever had.

She remembers the last time they spoke, under a starshower that felt apocalyptic in its beauty. She remembers how holding her tears until he was out of her sight was the hardest thing she’s done her whole life.

She remembers seeing her grandfather, gleaming in azure, the gentle smile he’d shown her so many times now frozen in his features for eternity.

It pains her more than she can bear.

She wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[mirroralchemist]

Untitled FFXIV Trash pt.4

I think at this rate Imma forego my monthly writing update for this month since LOOK AT ALL THIS WRITING I’VE BEEN DOING

Notes: Still in ShB spoilers hell. This is after pt.3 and just after WoL and Ryne reunite with the others. That and the Thancred scene(tm) before it are my absolute favorites from the expansion (so far) so it was inevitable that I would write Ami’s feelings about him almost dying. This is just more me being wishy-washy on will they or won’t they.

Also more sad times.

“ ‘Filia, we have to go.” she said.

“But Thancred!” the Oracle of Light cried.

Blue eyes stared at his form. He was ready to fight the Eulmoran general, she could see that. This was a fight that he was adamant on having. His words earlier still ringing in her head. He was going to protect the resolve of this Minifilia with everything he had.

“He knows what he’s doing.” she finally said.

The Warrior of Darkness took a deep breath as she focused her energies into her speed. She nodded towards him before taking Minfilia’s hand and running towards their destination. She didn’t look back. Not even as the sounds of battle began. She couldn’t look back, lest the temptation to fight by his side win out.

He trusted her to protect this child.

That was the least she could do.

‘Don’t you dare die on me Thancred I swear to the Twelve.’

*   *   *

The Warrior of Darkness stopped. She and Minifilia were well on their way to their place. Minfilia stopped as well, seeing her pause. Blue crystalline eyes looked at her in worry.

“Ami? Is something the matter?”

Ami said nothing at first. She could only look down, her hand touching her chest. Something felt wrong. She soon felt a pair of hands reach up to her cheeks, wiping the tears strolling down her face.

‘Tears?’

“Ami, please speak to me.” Minifilia pleaded.

Something felt very very wrong.

She shook her head. It was just the worry coming through, she reasoned. She had every right to be worried. Ran’jit was a foe not to underestimate. The few skirmishes she had with the man well warranted her fears. She knew her Scion couldn’t die. He had cheated death so many times already. When this was all over, they would all meet up again and have a laugh over this.

The pang of emptiness gnawing at her chest didn’t go away.

“I’m fine? We’ve been running for a while, lets take a small break.”

*  *   *

“Your hair, it’s different.” Ami remarked.

Minfilia took a lock of her hair, blue eyes staring at shock. Not only did the Minfilia she had known changed this girl on the inside, to give her full reign over her abilities, but on the outside too. If no one had knew before hand, the girl standing before her now could never had easily figured out as the Oracle. Worry etched on Minfilia’s face.

“Thancred is pr-”

“He’ll be fine.” Ami assured her, “I’ll walk with you to meet him. He doesn’t stand a chance if we double up on him.”

That brought a smile to the young woman’s face.

“You care for him deeply, don’t you?”

Ami froze at that statement. She let out a small sigh. Whether some residual feeling from the Minfilia she knew or just the girl’s excellent observation skills, she couldn’t decipher how she knew. But Ami would not deny it. Not to this girl who shared so much with her.

“I do.” Ami admitted, “He most likely didn’t tell you this, but he was the one who recruited me to the Scions.”

She stared towards the sky, its unyielding light a reminder why they had set out here on this day. A feeling of nostalgia washed over the Warrior of Darkness. Back before all of the battles she would soon face, she was just a novice Pugilist sent to find a noble.

“It feels such a lifetime ago. We have changed in those times since we took down a voidsent together. As comrades and friends we have grown. I can scarcely imagine where I would be in this moment without him.”

She shook her head to will away those thoughts. She soon turned her gaze towards Minfilia, letting a small smile appear on her face.

“The others should be waiting. Let us go meet them.”

*   *   *

Words failed to express what I am seeing before me. We were all together again. But sitting at the steps of an abandoned station was Thancred; and he looked worse for the wear. His pristine white coat caked with dirt and tears at the tails. Dried blood and dirt smudged his skin as well.

I thought back to that moment earlier, where the emptiness had started to hit my chest as he recounted the tale of his encounter with Ran’jit.

He had nearly died.

If it wasn’t for the quick timing of our friends’ healing arts, he would not be standing here.

I took a deep breath as he reunited with Minfil-no, it’s Ryne now. We had said goodbye to a dear friend, one that brought us all together. But we welcomed a new one into our fold.

But it picked at my mind that I could have lost two friends this day.

My hands balled into fists as the realization set in. For the sake of not souring the relieved atmosphere, I kept my emotions hidden. We were so close to the possible location of the Lightwarden here, we couldn’t afford more delays than what we have already. 

I let myself fall back as we traveled through the trolley tracks towards Malikah's Well. Ryne was really taking to her new abilities. Regardless of other events, seeing her with this new found confidence made me proud.

“We’ll have to go deeper.” she said.

We all gathered at the opening to the mining area. It was expansive, so it was ideal that we took a small break to prepare ourselves before exploring its depths. I still couldn’t take my eyes off of Thancred’s current state. It was a harsh reminder of what could have happened.

I dug into my pack and pulled out a bolt of cotton cloth and a vial of filtered water; leftover material from my crafting ventures. I bit into the fabric, making a haphazard strip before pouring the water over it. It was an automatic process as I made my way towards him and began my attempts to clean him up a bit. My hands trembling as I wiped the soaked cloth against his cheek.

It must have took a full minute for him to realize what I was doing before he grabbed my wrists.

“Ami?”

“You look terrible.” I could only say, voice wavering.

There was that smirk that I had come to get used to over the time of knowing him. Any other time, however, I would just play along in a knowing smile too. But I was drained mentally. I dropped the items in my hands on the ground as I lowered my head and the tears pooled around my eyes. It didn’t take long before they soon fell. By some small grace, it wasn’t as obvious I had begun to cry.

It was reminiscent of watching Haurchefant die in front of me; the thoughts of regret and guilt ready to consume me.

Once again, you almost were too late.

How pitiful, you cannot even save those you hold dear.

The stoic mask I had carefully constructed had cracked. The silent tears gave way to muffled sobs, growing louder and louder. The hold on my wrists lessened only to move to my shoulders. Words were being said to the others but I couldn’t discern what was spoken. I was too wrapped up in my emotions to be fully aware of the situation.

“Come now, Warrior of Darkness, no more tears.” a whispered voice spoke.

“I know the others said you are fully healed.” I said, “I don’t trust my healing capabilities but I have some alchemic knowledge. Maybe some of my medicinal remedies could help?”

“Am-”

I shook my head. I was aware that Thancred was speaking to me, but his words seemed foreign in my mental state.

“Your coat is tattered,” I continued on, “I’m no armorer, but the tears should only need a basic stitching. I can do that at least.”

“Ami look at me. I am fine.”

I glanced up at him. The tears still running down my face. His hand gripped my shoulders just a little tighter.

“Please let me do something, anything.” I pleaded, “I can...I cannot-”

His gaze lowered. The concern on him was obvious for me. It would only feed my guilt more. He almost died, and was concerned for me? 

He picked up the cloth and pressed it into my hands.

“If you insist, my dear.”

I nodded before setting to work on cleaning his face with whatever clean cloth I had. The tears still didn’t stop as I wiped down on his skin. Normally I would assure him I was fine.

But I wasn’t.

Something was happening to me with each instance of primordial Light I had absorbed.

The battle at Lakeland still weighed on my mind.

Knowing definitively that Minfilia has passed; someone I felt a kinship to understand my Echo.

All that to top it all off with the realization that I could have lost Thancred too? It was too much. It must have been minutes before the tears eventually slowed. The transition of my guilt to anger coming in as fast as I shift my fighting forms in battle.

“If it wasn’t for the fact that you almost died and my weapons are my hands, I would hit you right now.” I admitted.

My hands balled up into fists as my eyes narrowed into a glare. Thancred was surprised at the sudden lowered tone of voice. I took a deep breath before poking his armored chest.

“I don’t know if I should be angry at the fact that you almost died or that you are so nonchalant about it. Godsdammit, this is the fourth bloody time and I don’t think my heart can take much more. I don’t want to keep worrying if the next time I see you is going to be my last. I lost too much to get where I am, I will not lose any more. I...cannot lose any more. If I did, then I-”

I put my arms around his waist as I hugged him. At the time I didn’t care that this was considered out of character for me. I wanted, no needed his presence. I needed to feel that he was here. I felt him stiffen, but eventually he arms circled around my waist too. There was only a head difference between our heights, but I still felt so small in his embrace. Even as the grime rubbed off on the bare parts of my skin, even as the buckles and the metals of his armor dug into me I was content.

If only for a moment.

Regrettably, the reality of the situation has sunken in thus we separated.

Now I couldn’t meet his face.

Sobered up from the crack of my emotional mask, I had come to realize what I had done. I felt myself flush in embarrassment. Whether he took the moment as a response to a friend in need or a different matter entirely, he didn’t comment on it.

I remain hopeful that he is blissfully unaware of what I had unintentionally revealed.

“Ready to rendezvous with the others?” he asked.

“Yes...and thank you.”

I stayed a comfortable distance from Thancred as we walked to the others. Belatedly, I realized that I had cracked in front of them too. I couldn’t meet their gazes as well. 

An apology was right on my lips, for slowing them down. For making them concerned over me and my feelings I should be better at controlling. For ruining a genuine heartfelt moment. 

Almost as if she knew what I wanted to say, Y’shtola put a hand to stop me from uttering a word.

“I take it you have had your fill of making maidens cry today Thancred?” she quipped.

I snapped my head up, shock clear on my face. She smiled at me while having that mischievous glint in her eyes. I didn’t think it was possible for me to blush even deeper. But somehow I was. If it wasn’t for the fact that we had a Lightwarden to slay, I would have hidden away by now. I felt Thancred’s hand on my shoulder, patting it lightly.

“You wound me Y’shtola. I have you know that I am quite used to making maidens cry. Albeit for a different reason.”

“Please, no.” came the dry response, “We need not to enrich the others with that kind of knowledge.”

I snorted at the conversation. The embarrassment giving way to a smile before I laughed. It was reminiscent of old times back home. How, regardless of what mission we went on or how far it would take us, this familial warmth would always be awaiting for us.

“There,” she said, “that’s the look I am used to.”

“Thank you.” I spoke in earnest, “Full glad am I that I am making this journey with you all.”

“Come now, the sentimentality can wait until after we bring the night back.”

“Alisaie is right.” I said, “Let us be off everyone.”

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #29: Names

Prompt: free write (identity) | Master Post | On AO3

WARNING: Spoilers for throughout Shadowbringers MSQ!

She wondered, sometimes, if her parents had had another name for her, one carefully considered and picked. Would she have been named after a relative? A grandmother, perhaps, or a great-aunt or even a close family friend. Perhaps a name from a story, one that caught her mother’s fancy, or maybe something her father heard in the marketplace. Was it a name they had always called her? Was it a name they had whispered to themselves in the dead of night after the soldiers of Eulmore came for her?

Or, from the moment of her birth, with a tuft of blonde hair on her head and fathomless cerulean blue eyes, had she only ever been Minfilia?

To General Ran’jit and the soldiers of Eulmore, she had only been Minfilia or Oracle of Light or, more simply, Oracle; perhaps, my lady to the nervous new recruits or the respectful veterans. Lady Minfilia, to the servants who came to her luxurious prison deep beneath the City of Final Pleasures with food or fresh laundry or a set of books (approved, and censored as necessary, by Ran’jit, or more likely by one of his lieutenants). Once, when she had been presented to Lord Vauthry when she had been…eight? Perhaps nine summers? She had been addressed as Lady Oracle and oh, she had hated it, the way it oozed off Vauthry’s tongue, condescending and triumphant. Something to call a pretty caged bird.

But it hadn’t been incorrect. She had been a pretty caged bird.

The superfluous titles had mostly fallen away after Thancred had stolen her away from Eulmore and Ran’jit possessive grip. Oracle of Light became, primarily, not a term of address, just a description of who and what she was. Minfilia, though…

That name suddenly acquired a new weight.

To Thancred, and Urianger, and Y’shtola and Alphinaud and Alisaie, Minfilia was someone else, first and foremost. They had known the first Minfilia, the original, the savior from another world who gave up her identity and her life to save Norvrandt from the Flood of Light.

When Ran’jit, and many other residents of Norvrandt, looked at her, they saw a legacy, an unbroken line of girl-children warriors against the sin-eaters, born to fight and die and do it all over again in the next life. When Thancred looked at her, he saw regrets and missed chances, the shadow of a woman for whom he had wished he had done more. Urianger looks at her with sorrow in his eyes, too, but that doesn’t stop him from speaking kindly to her, to throwing open his library to her voracious appraisal.

It’s not until the Crystal Exarch brings the Warriors of Light of the Source to the First that she began to feel…well, herself.

Rereha accompanies her for their share of the chores the pixies give them in Lydha Lran. After the third bit of ridiculous busywork, she was tired and frustrated, and ready to scream. As one of their pixie ‘hosts’ gave the pair their third task, however, she remembered a story she read in Urianger’s library, from a bookend of Lakeland fables.

“I’ve never done this before,” she said earnestly, making her eyes as big as possible, her expression as innocent. “Could you show us how to do it properly?”

Rereha took her cue from her, the dwar—lalafell smiling and nodding agreement. “Aye,” she said, “we don’t want to cause a mess!”

The pixie had narrowed their eyes at them, before slowly nodding. “Well, all right then,” they said, “you do it like this.”

And after the pixie had shown them how—

“Oh, I’m not sure I understood, I’m so sorry. Could you show us again?”

And again, and again, until the chore had been done. The pixie had sulked as their friends whooped and laughed and lauded her for a trick well played.

As they had gone to rejoin the others, Rereha had said, “That was brilliant, Minfilia!”

She had blushed and shrugged, suddenly shy and unsure once again. “I had read about something similar, once,” she said, “a story about a fox named Reynard outwitting his foes and tricking his friends and laughing the whole time.”

“Well, you might not have been laughing,” said Rereha, grinning, “but that was well done, little fox kit.”

Synnove had been the next to give her a nickname, on the journey back to the Crystarium. The older woman had been patiently answering her questions about the Source, about arcanima, about the carbuncles. How did she make them? What did they eat?

“Technically, anything,” Synnove had laughed. “As aether constructs, they don’t have the digestive system of a beastkin. But they do have preferences, and what I cook for myself, I feed to them, too.” She had gently stroked Galette’s tails, the emerald carbuncle draped around her neck. “Be careful with this one, duckling, she’s got a sweet tooth the size of a mountain and no shame in getting her next fix!”

She had tilted her head curiously at Synnove as they had walked. “Duckling?”

“It’s something I call the baby first year arcanists,” Synnove had said, a rueful smile on her lips. “The braver ones follow the senior assessors and professors around like ducklings, quacking questions and gobbling up the answers like bread crumbs, though their shier classmates trail along, too. If you don’t want to be called that—”

“No!” she said, then almost immediately ducked her head. “No, I don’t mind. I rather like it, actually. I like the idea of being a student.”

Synnove had smiled, warm and gentle. “Well, then, so long as you don’t mind, I’ll keep calling you that.”

Her third nickname had been straightforward. A few days of walking under true sunlight in Il Mheg, Lakeland, and then wandering the Crystarium had turned her pale skin bright red and achy. Dancing Heron had come across her in the market, taken one look at her miserable expression, and hustled her to Heron’s room in the Pendants.

“Oh, poor Sunshine,” the roegadyn had said ruefully, braiding her hair out of the way before helping to slather her face and shoulders in a thick, clear salve called aloe vera. “You aren’t the first person here in the Crystarium to get a sunburn.”

She hadn’t reacted to the name, mostly because like the others, she liked it. It was just about her. She had also had more important things on which to focus. “The sun can burn you?” she’d said, absolutely horrified.

Heron had laughed. “Aye, it can! Too much of a good thing can quickly turn bad, even the sun. Pale skin especially is more susceptible, but even someone as dark as I am needs to be careful; on you, at least, it’s easy to see when the damage occurs! Synnove and Rere have been showing the folks at the Mean how to create sunscreen—that’s a cream you put on your skin that helps prevent a burn from happening at all. In the meantime, we’ll get you a wide-brimmed hat, and you’ll need to keep putting on the aloe vera. That’ll soothe the burn and the itch when the skin starts healing, and keep your skin moisturized, too.”

Oh, the itch had been awful. And the peeling skin had just been…gross.

Alakhai, of course, had eventually given her a nickname, too. The Xaela was quiet, in the way of someone who just didn’t prefer to talk, at least not when it wasn’t necessary. In the shadows of the Rak’tika Greatwood, Alakhai had shown her a few more knife tricks, the proper way to bend and flick her wrists to get her knives to dance.

“Thancred’s good with his blades,” Alakhai had said quietly, demonstrating the movement in slow motion, “and he didn’t do half-bad training you. But he hasn’t been as short as you or I in a long time, günj, and there are just some things he can’t properly demonstrate.”

She heard ‘günj,’ but in her mind, thanks to the Blessing of Light, she knew the word meant princess. It had slipped out, the same way it had with Synnove and Heron, tinged with soft, genuine affection, and again, she decided not to draw attention to it.

Instead, she went through the move Alakhai had just shown her slowly, at first. When Alakhai nodded, she did it again at full speed, her knives driving into the target at neck height on an adult male hume with the right and at kidney height with the left.

Alakhai had grinned, proud and vicious at once. “Very good, günj. Now, again, and again, until it’s as second nature to you as all the rest.”

It had been those nicknames, bestowed on her without a second thought, for a girl they had barely known, that had helped sustain her through Amh Araeng, when the doubts began to eat at her and who she actually was. Those nicknames, that were just for her, that rang in her head when the first Oracle of Light, the first Minfilia, had asked her what her choice was. When she accepted the chance to be her own person.

Red hair and grey eyes. A surge of power, of Light that was gentle and warm. A purpose, and the determination to carry it out.

Thancred, after they had vanquished the Lightwarden of Amh Araeng, had taken her aside privately and said, “There are no words to express the depths of my sorrow for how I’ve treated you these last years. I will do better. I hope one day you can forgive me, but know that you don’t have to. Not know, not ever. That’s my burden to bear.”

She had thought he had hated her for so long, but he had been sincere. She knew she could trust him, and the forgiveness…the forgiveness would come one day.

After all, he had given her a name.

And as Ryne well knew, names were precious things indeed.

[twicebled]

✿

@leveilleurisms inquired !

FRIENDSHIP.     childhood friends  /  work buddies or coworkers  /  family friends  /  friends with benefits  /  smoking buddies  /  adventure buddies  /  fake friends  /  recently friends  /  party buddies  /  friendship of need  /  dying friendship  /  circumstantial friendship  /  partners in crime  /  old friendship  /  [ your muse ] is the good influence  /  [ your muse ] is the bad influence  /  [ my muse ] is the good influence  /  [ my muse ] is the bad influence  /  opposites attract  /  ride or die  /  frenemies  /  roommates or flatmates  /  penpals  /  exes to friends  /  enemies to friends  /  other.  

I’ve always seen these two as being a bit of a yin yang deal, balancing out the other’s flaws. Alphinaud has the calm sense to keep Johri’s impulsive temper in check, whereas Johri has the experience to know when action needs to be taken ( though sometimes they both get impulsive, lbr ). They help each other grow, always bringing out the best in one another and facing challenges together, but don’t need a reason to spend time together. They likely know a lot of each other’s quirks and such from spending a long time under the same roof in Ishgard. 

I also love the idea of them teaching each other a bit of their respective vocations. Johri would be particularly thrilled to compare the inherent magic of a bard to the more direct arts of an arcanist. They can drag alisaie and urianger into it. study group, let’s go.

FAMILIAL.     siblings [ half ]  /  siblings [ step ]  /  [ my muse ] is an older sibling figure to your younger sibling figure  /  [ my muse ] is a younger sibling figure to your older sibling figure muse  /  [ my muse ] is a parental figure to yours  /  [ my muse ] is a child figure to your muse  /  guardian figure  /  legal guardian  /  adoptive child  /  foster child  /  [ your muse ] is taken under mines wing  /  [ my muse ] is taken under yours wing  /  other : found family !! 

I always talk about how Alphinaud is like a younger sibling to Johri, but I don’t think that does it justice. On many occasions he has been an anchor to her the same way everyone else expects her to be for them, acting with a wisdom beyond his years. She would not have come this far without him and confides in him the doubts she never dares speak to the world. He may be younger, and she will dote on him as such, but they absolutely are equals and she acknowledges this. 

ANTAGONISTIC.     dangerous to each other  /  dangerous to others  /  unpredictable  /  rivals  /  petty  /  developing into sexual or romantic tension  /  based off family matters  /  based of off circumstance  /  based of professional matters  /  based off misunderstanding or lies  /  conflict of ideology  /  betrayal  /  hero - villain dynamic  /  enemies  /  fight club  /  friends turned enemies  /  lovers turned enemies  /  exes turned enemies  /  other : lightwarden / 14th au. coughs. 

Even the best of friends argue, and these two in particular have a strong clashing point between Johri being the Reluctant Hero trope & Alphinaud’s idealistic hopes. She does not care about people or the world as much as he does. She is kind, yes, but also somewhat apathetic outside her circle of friends. And particularly in SHB, with the things brought to light by Emet-Selch, she becomes quite bitter regarding the grand scheme of it all. 

This bitter apathy is something very few get a glimpse of and only Alphinaud knows of in detail from her own mouth. She trusts him enough to drop the carefree hero act around him.

𝙵𝙸𝙽𝙰𝙻 𝚃𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙶𝙷𝚃𝚂.     This turned into a bit of rambling, woops. It’s all very flexible if something doesn’t fit your portrayal or you prefer something different for them! I’m always up for plotting! Just figured I’d throw in some context as to why Johri cares so much for Alphinaud. 

Johri comes from a patchwork family with a lot of younger siblings. It’s become an instinct to watch over youths, and this is something she projected onto Alphinaud from the start, but it took the events of Heavensward for her to genuinely care beyond a sense of duty to keep those younger than her safe.

This is also where Johri significantly diverges from the WoL’s canon behaviour. 

After Ul’dah, all they really had was each other, a solidarity between them from their experiences and predicament. For Johri, this was a huge “you don’t know what you have until it’s gone” moment, and her grief manifests as anger. Unfortunately, she took it out on Alphinaud. She used his guilt to keep herself grounded, taking an already bad atmosphere and making it worse. Their beginnings in Ishgard were incredibly tense as a result of it.

There was a lot of damage control from Haurchefant. But in the end they came out stronger for it because I very much believe they sat down and talked it out at some point, likely after Haurchefant’s death. It sobered her up quite a bit. She only just realized what friends are worth, and she did not want to loose Alphinaud to her own folly or something worse. She was determined to make up for it.

Heavensward was the first time Johri truly felt the personal consequences of the path she was thrown onto, both good and bad, and Alphinaud is the one who walked with her through it all. They always call her a beacon of hope, but for her, that was Alphinaud. He kept it together when she could not. This was a defining point in her journey, and she won’t forget the people who walked besides her. It is why she considers Ishgard her home.

Ever since, she has gone to great efforts to make sure Alphinaud does not dwell on any failures or blames himself for them, like some meager sentiment to make up for the things she said, taking whatever burden she can to make it easier for him. She still thinks of it sometimes, to keep herself honest. It reminds her of what is at stake. 

The Scions’ disappearance prior to SHB absolutely broke her. Thancred had to hold her back from throttling Gaius when she saw him carrying Alphinaud’s unconscious form. She carried him back herself and no one can tell me otherwise, thanks. There was a lot of hugging when they reunited on the first. 

ANYWAY. johri stans alphinaud, thanks for coming to my ted talk. 

RELATIONSHIP MEME 2.0 / ACCEPTING !